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linos-luna · 11 months ago

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Toxic ❣️🥀

Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Jealous, Oral, Fingering

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As tough as you may act, you weren’t exactly the most confident. You’ve had boys reject you and an ex cheat on you. You were sure that your current boyfriend wouldn’t cheat or leave but at the same time, you worried. What if he found someone prettier? Someone better?

Your boyfriend is cute and it’s no wonder that other girls would like him. You tried to not let it get to you…

It was something small. Perhaps not even a big deal but I bugged you.

You had gone with Felix to get his hair cut. It was a mundane every other monthly occurrence, but today was different. Today it was a woman cutting his hair. Normally it wouldn’t bother you but this was different. She was definitely being flirty.

As she cut his hair, she would do little things like rub his back and shoulders. She would laugh a little too much at his jokes and openly called him cute! You’d be glaring at her from the waiting area but it seemed that she didn’t care. Felix was just as nice to her. Yeah it’s his personality to be friendly but what if… what if he liked her?

She’s small and cutesy. She’s pretty and giggly. You felt she was everything you weren’t. You felt like she’s a solid 9/10 while in this moment you’re a 2. Of course he’d like her more!

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Felix suddenly appeared in front of you. He startled you actually.

“Sorry noona.” Felix laughed nervously. “Do you like my hair? It’s a little shorter than I wanted but it’s okay right?”

“Looks great, baby.” You said with a smile while standing. “Let’s go home so I can make dinner.”

Felix nodded and went back to pay at the counter. As the woman who cut his hair rung him up, you noticed that she slipped him a piece of paper. This annoyed you and you followed your boyfriend to the car.

The ride was silent. You said nothing and while driving, Felix could sense something was off. He just wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it. It wasn’t until you were parked that you broke the silence.

“Baby…” you spoke up quietly. “What did she give you when we left…?”

Your boyfriend turned off the car before looking at you a bit worried. He reached into his pocket and handed it to you. Exactly as you thought, it was her number.

“I guess she gave me her number.” He chuckled awkwardly.

You weren’t sure what to say, only ripping the small paper in pieces before shoving them in your pocket and getting out of the car, slamming the door behind you.

“Noona?” Felix got out and followed after you as you stomped inside to the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t like her talking to you like that…”

“Noona—” He sighed.

“And you let her!”

“It’s not like that…” Felix frowned, confused by your sudden outburst.

“I know, I know!” You groaned while rubbing your forehead, realizing how toxic you sounded. It’s just—… I don’t—… you’re my baby boy! Not hers!”

“Of course I’m yours.” Felix said with a smile as you were hugging yourself. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You felt like shit. Sitting on the edge of the bed and continued hugging yourself uncomfortably, unable to believe how toxic you sounded.

Felix pouted and got on his knees in front of you, putting his arms on your lap and looking at you with those adorable eyes. “Don’t be sad.”

Smiling a bit, you brushed your fingers through his hair. As innocent as he looked, you could feel his hand feeling up your thigh. He didn’t even break eye contact as he rubbed your inner thighs, ever so light brushing over your clothed crotch.

“Y-You want something, baby?” You voice broke as he palmed over the area.

“Mmhm.” He nodded. “I wanna show noona how much I love her.”

The more he touched your clothed area, the more wet and uncomfortable your underwear was getting. Normally, you were the one giving and taking care of him, so this was a little different.

After giving him the okay, Felix got right to removing your pants and leaning in to kiss you over your cute pink panties. You leaned back a little, leaning on your arms while holding back some whimpers.

“You think I’d ever leave you?” He giggled while slipping your underwear off and rubbing his fingers along your folds. “I would never…”

You covered your mouth to hold back the moans as he rubbed at your sensitive clit. Your boyfriend moved your legs on his shoulders, having you lay back on your elbows.

He didn’t give you much time to adjust before kissing your sensitive cunt. You threw your head back and let out your suppressed moans.

“I’d never leave you, noona—” he said briefly before going back to eating you out.

“Fuck—! Agh—! F—fu—” There was no volume control. Felix knew just how sensitive your cunt was, this had your eyes rolled back and back arched.

“Oh wow noona…” He added, his mouth still pressed against your cunt. “What filthy sounds you make.”

With your eyes shut, breathy moans escaped your lips as you bucked your hips slightly, only for Felix to grip them tight.

Your boyfriend replaced his mouth by inserting two fingers, making you cry out as he kissed along your hips and waist.

“B-baby~” you moaned while laying on your back. “A-agh! L-Lixie—”

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Felix smirked as thrusted his fingers slowly in and out. He went deep to hear your whimpers. He then lifted your shirt to kiss your stomach.

You couldn’t really think straight as you were lost in pleasure and pushed your bra up for him. He wasted no time in kissing and nipping at your soft skin. It drove you nuts and it was clear that you were close to releasing.

“Cum on my fingers, noona.”

You came as he curled his fingers and hit the spot one more time. You practically went cross eyed as you panted, trying to catch your breath.

Felix was pretty satisfied and put his fingers in your mouth. “Clean my fingers, noona.”

Almost mindlessly, you sucked your essence off of them. He pet your hair and sighed.

“I would never leave you, y/n.”

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids felix #skz felix x poc reader #skz smut #felix x reader #skz felix x reader #skz felix smut #felix smut #felix angst

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soliloquent-stark · 4 months ago

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everyone, stop what you're doing — it's my writing anniversary!

it's been a whole year since i posted my first fic. since then, i've written a total of 100,285 words across several ships (mostly stevetony) and have been very lucky to receive wonderful feedback and make some lovely friends ❣️

thank you to everyone for your support! i have many fics in the works and you'll be hearing from me for a long while, i hope 💗✨

for now, please enjoy this recap of my fics (for moodboards and excerpts, check out this tag)

stevetony:

🧺 we'll live in spaces between walls (mcu, t, 6,9k)

In the heat of a tense discussion in a cramped utility room at the Avengers Tower, Steve's deep-seated insecurities come to the surface. Tony witnesses a new and vulnerable side of him and realizes they have more in common than he thought.

💌 ctrl-alt-deceit (au, t, 17,1k)

A corporate espionage story told solely through excerpts from CEO Tony Stark's inbox. Featuring romantic pining, delightful office lunches, sarcastic super-geniuses, intense investigations, revolutionary nanotechnology research, unhinged arch-nemeses, haunting ghosts from the past, and an endearing emoji overload by a witty Peter Parker.

🦔 the hedgehog (and one million blue whales) (mcu, t, 8,2k)

Steve and Tony's love story unfolding through a series of everyday moments in the span of two years, pieced together to paint the canvas of their intertwined lives — a precious portrait woven with quirky whale-themed endearments, meaningful acts of service, soothing showers, cherished gifts, and one adorable hedgehog.

💛 honey whiskey (au, e, 27,7k—wip)

Tony Stark, a twice-divorced recovering alcoholic battling depression, unexpectedly spends a night with Steve, a mesmerizing and kind Brooklyn teacher who settles deep in his heart, despite Tony's strict no romantic feelings policy. Unbeknownst to him, Tony made the other man feel alive again, too — and Steve is nothing if not stubborn.

🍹 i’m fine all alone (but it’s nice to be here with you) (mcu, t, 9,4k)

Two months after the Battle of Earth, Tony, grappling with post-retirement uncertainty and an identity crisis, invites Steve on a Christmas trip to Jamaica.

📄 annex 11 (mcu, g, 1,3k)

Trapped together during a snowstorm in the middle of a mission, Steve attempts to soothe Tony’s growing anxiety, only to discover that Tony had the solution all along.

🫀 may the angels bow down for you (mcu, t, 2k)

Tony pleads for help from his Angel; Steve pleads for forgiveness from Tony.

🥀 i give you, as you see, a ready argument (mcu, t, 1,5k)

Two things Tony cannot shake — his mortality and a secret love for Steve that lingers on, eleven years and counting.

💗 i live in a city that lives in a different age (mcu, t, 10.8k)

Steve Rogers has fourteen days to complete fourteen therapy homework assignments.

buckytony:

❤️ love is a tower where all of us can live (mcu, t, 2,1k)

Five times Bucky takes care of Tony and one time Tony realizes why.

stevetonybucky:

🎶 you are the sweetest melody i never sung (mcu, t, 5,6k)

Bucky struggles with insomnia, Tony plays the piano, and Steve just wants the two most important men in his life to get along.

sambucky:

🍀 maybe love was always near (mcu, t, 4,6k)

Five times Sam and Bucky’s friends wrongly assume they’re dating and one time they get it right.

samtony:

🥂 the only bad you’ve ever done is see the good in me (mcu, t, 2,7k)

The script for a missing scene in which fugitive Sam Wilson risks it all to deliver a birthday gift to Tony Stark.

#soliloquent's year-in-review #fic rec #stevetony #stony #stony fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson

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papaver-decervicatus · 1 year ago

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Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 4, Mus Urbanus

Fatal attraction is one thing but stuck on a stakeout, a certain little mouse decides to push her luck with the cat who's been chasing her... just how far is too far, and how much more can they take?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Hahaha, remember how I said I was going to do shorter updates? Yeah well, I felt really bad for missing the previous week but I did have a lot of terrible IRL shit happen, so working through that was a priority. That being said, going back through all the amazing comments and everything everyone has written has been absolutely keeping me afloat! Thank you all so so so so so much, you will never know how much it all means to me.

There are a couple of Hannibal references in this part that, hopefully, will start to make sense by the last part of the story (which was, coincidentally, the first part written!) Not going to lie, I am just glad to publish this so I never have to think about this damned part again as I have been stuck on in for literal months. Also sorry if Soap's accent sucks, the only experience I have with anything remotely Scottish in the way of language tendency is my grandmother whose father was a Scottish immigrant and that's it.

Anyways, I hope you like agnst and interrogation scenes, because next week, König loses his faith in god and in mouse while tied to a chair! See you there!

❣️Cura ut Veleas ~ Caedis 🥀

PREV | Pt. 4 Mus Urbanus | 4.2k words | Mouse POV | NEXT

“Mouse?” A voice from in front of her calls out, but only after she deliberately drags her feet into the threshold of the neutral ground, alerting him of her presence.

“Quiet as a.” She utters her usual response, stepping into the little flat in Buenos Aries, Argentina. She hears the smile as Soap sucks in a breath at her little joke. Her callback should be old by now, shouldn’t make him smile anymore, but he does anyway. He’s easy to get along with, something hard to come by in war. She crosses the minimal space between the two and takes stock of his little setup.

For a mission, it’s luxurious. He’s sitting, in a chair might she add, with a scope poking barely out of an antique window on the 7th floor of an apartment building, looking into a busy market square. His arms rest on a table littered with little signs of life, a map of the area adorned with notes and coordinates in inexpensive ink, no less than 7 pens whose caps are chewed through (everyone’s got bad habits but this little sin of his drives poor Price up and down the goddamn wall), two disposable cups with sediment rings denoting how much instant coffee was drunk from them at a time before they returned to their places besides their drinker. Most notably, however, are two radios in a strange moment of near fornication– backs ripped open and wires crossed in an almost pornographic display of field ingenuity.

Damn demolition specialists, she hears the echo of Gaz say in her head and she absentmindedly rubs the scabbed over cut on her left hand where the shrapnel of a certain someone’s frag grenade got her two weeks ago. She wants to be mad but-

“Hear any good ones, lately?” Soap turns to her, he’s disengaging from his post, changing his guard for her to take his spot, just as command ordered. He’s been in this little nest for about 6 hours and she can feel his desire to scuttle and tinker about radiating off of him. As he takes apart his gun, already aware and familiar that she refuses to use anyone’s but her own, his eyes shine to life. The color of sky blue permafrost, yet they radiate a certain lived-in warmth impossible to distance yourself from. Eyes almost like-

She bites her tongue at the thought. Bad time to be thinking about König… she mourns. But, speaking of the man.

“Yes, but it’s bad,” she offers, in fake warning as she sheds her outer jacket before moving to unhook the case that stands between her and the assembly of her gun. She knows the warning will only intrigue the poor pyrotechnic more.

His smile is nothing short of sadistic as he raises an eyebrow.

“No, like, really bad,” she emphasizes, throwing a pleading look his way. His grin gets even more shit-eating-er if that sort of thing were even possible. “I mean it, MacTavish. Pass it along to your long-suffering Lieutenant, and you will be picking teeth out of your shit.” “I’m sure I’ve done worse to Ghost,” he supplies, rolling his shoulders. Yeah, I’m sure you have, she thinks but is much too self-preserving to say, especially aware that the Frankenstien’s monster of a radio he’s resurrected from two dead circuit boards is likely not secure enough to promise any real privacy. She would rather not alert Simon Riley that she’s become a dealer in his and Soap’s arm’s race of terrible jokes. He does not take prisoners, after all…

“Alright, alright, just don’t tell him it’s from me,” she smiles, putting her hands up defensively in a quick jest. “Okay, play along with me now,” he nods along as he steps away from the perch and lets her take his spot at the table.

“So, what's the difference between a piano, a fish, and a gluestick?”

“I know about two-thirds o’ this one.”

Mouse trap baited. She smiles.

“Give it a go, then.” She wiggles in the chair, pressing her cheek to the crux of the sight and its metal holder. She sighs into the familiar feeling of control that settles into her bones as she hunches over.

“Can tuna piano but’cha can’t tuna fish?” He supplies, half teasing her already.

“Yep, but you’re forgetting something.” She sighs and goes to fiddle with the red-light optics extension, Command is confident enough in her abilities that she was specifically told to take it off for this one. She hears Soap whisper a quiet ‘oh shite’ behind her when he realizes he probably forgot to himself and she laughs a little.

“What about the glue?”

Mouse trap set. Poor Soap, always getting himself into ambushes…

She smiles wide and hums remembering how excited her kitty-cat was to tell her this part.

“See, I knew you’d get stuck on that one.”

Mouse trap sprung. A moment of silence.

“Oh fuck me, that one is bad.” Soap chokes out a hearty laugh as he collects his discarded coffee cups from her side.

“No thanks,” she purrs as she finally sets herself into position. “Use it at your discretion, soldier.”

“Aye, that I will.”

Soap goes to rummage through the kitchenette to her right and she takes the moment she lacks supervision to indulge herself. She does not move her sights to alert the man with her of the wandering of her eyes, instead, she scans windows and alleys without visual aid. The stale air threatens to choke her as she rakes over the golden-hued morning scene with desperate efficiency.

After what feels like an eternity of stolen glances switching between her targeted area and anywhere he may be, she sees him.

Technically, she has no way to know for certain that it’s König, she doesn’t have his usual wave or cheeky grin (affectionately referred to as a Cheshire Cat Smile in her own belabored heart) to alert her to his presence. That being considered, there is a masculine figure barely peeking out of a window into an alleyway who is just shy of 7 feet tall and his face is covered. Yeah, probably König. She smiles despite herself and her company. She wonders if he has radio access to her little hideout.

(She remembers the seemingly endless weeks of his arrival to her perch. The early morning light hits the streets the same way it had hit the forest ground that day. Like a fairy tale prince, beseeching a princess on hand and knee, he would always somehow appear in her sights, nearly as though it was just meant to be!

His form stands out tall and proud from its surroundings and she recounts every single reason he should not be here. By the third time their eyes caught she’d decided he was doing it on purpose, but she never let him get away with it without some acknowledgment on her side. She can only imagine that if she’s getting hunted for sport, her calling out his position will, at least temporarily, halt his advance.

But by this rate, she’ll be in his mouth by the end of the year.

His eyes are cold and bloodshot red. Painted tears lick their way down the hood she’s never seen him without, possibly a feeble attempt at impersonality? Maybe if he looks enough like a monster people will just trust their first assumption and leave him alone. But she’s never been one to judge a book by its cover…

“I see you, König.” She warns out to him. He stills among the foliage, bathed in sweet-honey-like warmth from the rising sun. He does not shy away from his imminent death on the business end of her rifle, of course not! Instead, he raises his chest proudly, seemingly aware that the loneliness in her yields to whatever greater magnetism the loneliness in him commands. He’s an enigma, it bothers her that of all the people to put the effort into finding her, it has to be him. Mostly she curses herself for promising him a next time all those encounters ago, if she’d known what sort of a game it would inspire in the predator stalking her like prey despite her flipping sniper rifle, she never would have said a thing.

He may be in her scope, but he’s got her under a finer microscope to seek her out so faithfully. She wishes she got this sort of dizzying devotion from someone, anyone else. It is the third day this week he has found her.

What she expects to happen is what has happened for weeks now, 1) he hears her transmission, 2) he smiles at her as a predator smiles at pray, his eyes find hers and her hackles rise in utter terror, and 3) he hums to himself and turns away, self-satisfied enough to have won hide-and-seek for the time being.

That does not happen.

Instead, König sits down, right where he is, and pulls out that monster of a knife he keeps strapped to himself. He throws it up and catches it without looking at it, instead his eyes are laser-focused on Mouse. This is, of course, despite the fact he should have no earthly idea where she is. He plays with his knife idly for what must be an hour, but she does not- no, can not- look away from him.

She remembers her trigger finger twitching with sinful power, she remembers choking back the insistence at killing another lonely person, devoid of their autonomy on a basic level when they signed up for a mercenary-issued ticket to hell.

She remembers hopelessness. She remembers refusal. She remembers the smile reaching his eyes when she played along with his joke.

“Why don’t rats like cats?” Her radio labors out.

She half forgot what his voice sounded like, surprisingly excitable and shrill for a man of his stature. Her brain stutters around the implication of the only words she’s heard him say to her since the fateful ravine that gained Mouse her own personal 6’10” shadow.

She blinks a few times in surprise, genuinely pondering if her long hours hiking through the woods have made her susceptible to hallucination and general hysteria. She is not thinking when she timidly responds-

“Why?”

“Because they are weapons of maus-destruction.” Konig replies like it’s not the stupidest thing she’s ever heard in her goddamn life. Perhaps it's pity at the memory of his discomfort around his comrades. Of the thought of the way he tries to make his body so small when around others (truly an impossible task he routinely fails.) Maybe it’s irrational fear, twofold and buried in her instinct to shoot despite the clear disadvantage on his behalf and her insistence that she does not do her damn job, or fear of the inhuman man in front of her stalking her through the woods. Or it could be discomfort, no one ever prepared her for dealing with whatever the fuck this is in basic training or field school. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what it is.

In the sparkling, decadent light of a sunrise, her heart hammers in her throat at the first joke he’d told her, in some strange and desperate attempt to fill the meters of silence between them.

She laughs.

And he hears it.

And with his wide stance, his ghastly executioner’s hood in the place of a crown, and his knife back in its holster- his beautiful eyes seem to smile. Suddenly, his eyes look lived in, like someone has just put up new curtains in an abandoned house. His whole affect changes hinging on what was an irresponsible outburst on her behalf at best.

And for the first time, she does not fear a monster hunting her through the woods, silent and purposeful in his pursuit of prey. Instead, she wants to understand a man, whose eyes have lit up like a princess has just laughed when he kissed her hand.)

Soap wanders back into her small perch with two cups of coffee and sets one down next to her. She takes a quick glance and hums with appreciation. He takes another sip out of his and she remembers that they’re supposed to share shift for about an hour before his rotation ends.

“You treat all your girls to coffee in the morning?” She quips.

“Only the pretty ones,” he returns with an effortless charisma and her breath catches.

Not because of Soap, but because in that alleyway, where she really shouldn’t be looking, she sees the uneasy rise of two massive shoulders and-

Oh my god, did König just… get jealous?

The next idea she has is downright evil, really this is not the place or the time or any of that but-

Fuck it. She’s already flirting with the enemy, what more could this do? She’s already told the poor mountain of a man something dangerously adjacent to “God I really missed you when we didn’t talk to each other for three weeks like a horny teenager and by the way I love you desperately and think about you when I’ve got my hands down my pants,” and she probably imagined him tensing up, anyways. No harm, no foul.

Maybe, it's dangerous, to wave a steak in front of a mountain lion, but what if she wants to get mauled?

“Hey Soap, what page are you on?” She says, putting her terrible plan into action. She sees him look up from his report, or more likely an idle sketch, on her periphery.

“Ah, only the second chapter, did'ya move my bookmark?”

“Nope, the book’s in the leftmost pocket in my duffle.”

“Thank ya,” He says and moves from his spot to go fetch the book from it. She takes a quick sip of her coffee, delighted to realize he’s made it to her specifications as far as milk and sugar go, as he rummages around in her bag.

The impromptu book club started nearly eight months ago when Nova passed her copy of Emma by Jane Austen off to Gromsko to help him with his English. That turned into Mouse recommending the book Jane Eyre to Nova on the pure suspicion that she would hate it, which she did. Gromsko still needed to practice and enjoyed the spirited discussions so he joined the blossoming group with an English copy of The Doll by Aleksander Głowacki after he finished Jane Eyre. Never one to be left out, and surprisingly well-read when he wanted to be, Soap had pitched the idea of The Lord of the Flies (because to quote “Fucking Brits,” and he wanted to subject others to his high-school reading list.) If she remembered correctly, Farah and Reyes had also started sharing copies of books they enjoyed occasionally.

“Can’t believe it was Gromsko that put it in rotation.” Soap says, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Silence of the Lambs from the bag.

“He said he picked it up years ago in Polish thinking it was a cooking field guide.” She offers, as the man next to her idly thumbs through pages.

“Yer shitting me, yeah?”

She just shakes her head and smiles into her scope. Soap laughs and removes his homemade bookmark, a pencil sketch of a stake-out view somewhere in Mexico scribbled onto scrap paper. He keeps his thumb on the page and flips through to where hers is, much further along.

“Yer a right romantic, ain’cha Bonnie?” Soap laughs somewhere between the pages and somewhere behind her. “Hmm?”

“This part, that’ya highlighted,” she hears a well-meaning sneer in his words. “The one you put the hearts by and everything…”

Mouse’s mouth tethers itself into a terse line and she attempts her best noncommittal shrug.

Somewhere in her line of sight, a mountain shrugs himself chuckling lightly. She wonders what it would feel like, to lay on his broad, muscled chest as he laughs, how closely he would hold her, how she could rest entirely on top of his chest and not touch the ground beneath them and-

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She lies through her teeth. Soap’s laugh behind her is loud and proud. Suddenly, his casual sadism isn’t so amusing when turned around on her.

“Do you think it's because I like to look at you and think about eating you up—“ he reads from the book, voice dripping in mock chivalry and breathless romanticism. “About how you would taste?"

She feels her cheeks and ears heat up as Soap loudly proclaims her funeral to all those who may care, and she doesn’t miss the way König leans a little too close to his radio as he goes about mocking her. His stance shifts as if he hangs on the very words like he’s found a secret buried deep in her subconscious. Technically, she has no way of knowing, but Mouse knows in her heart that König is smiling. At least someone is having fun.

Once Soap comes down from his laughing fit he puts her bookmark back to its spot and talks at the back of her head.

“With your pressed flower bookmark and everything. Oh, it would be sweet if he wasn’t Hannibal the Cannibal.” Soap hisses out. “I always figured you were…” he pauses searching for the right word, “adventurous from how Gromsko talks bout ya, but seriously cannibalism?”

If she’s not mistaken, König’s hand grips ever so slightly tighter on the radio attached to the best. Maybe the battle plan has to change, but she’s still got some ideas.

Soap is completely oblivious to the electricity licking up the air between her perch and one man on the ground. He looks around frantically, seemingly desperate to find her, and look in her eyes. Mouse is a sniper, she really should hate the attention, but something fatalistic descends into her smile as she lets Soap continue his little outburst.

“I swear. You and him, yer sure there’s nothing there? He’s even given you special field medicine lessons, no one gets treatment like that from Gromsko.”

“His name is Sobieslaw.” Notably, it is not a denial. Technically, everything that’s just been said is the truth.

König’s shoulders rise.

He looks right down her site.

She smiles.

Come and get me, kitty-cat.

“See! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re the only person who calls him by his first name.”

“Because you never put in the effort to learn it.”

“That don’t mean a thing since I don’t have tits.”

“You do, just not as good as mine.”

“Aye, off it. Gromsko is into you.” She can hear from the way Soap’s voice carries haphazardly around the room that he is pacing and talking with his hands. She doesn’t turn her back, gaze still fixated on the looming shadow in her sights. Soap continues, entirely unaware of the exact type of beast he is tempting. “He swaggers around you, never even bothers to fucking ask to pick up your boxes, he just does it. His voice gets all soft around ya, too, like he’s cooing at a goddamn pet animal or something. He nearly got into an actual pissing contest with Ghost the other day when he bitched about you beating him in poker. Face the facts, Bonnie, he wants you.”

König’s eyes have focused with the ferocity of an apex predator and his chest labors out concentrated and sharp inhales and exhales. He resembles a recently sharpened knife, desperate for some carnage after a particular kind of attention. His body is crumpled in on itself not unlike a cat getting ready to pounce. His heels dig desperately into the cobblestones beneath his feet. His hand flicks out his beloved Glock field knife with all the reverence of a praying man.

In short, he looks every part like he does in immediate battle. He looks like he did the split second before he started sprinting for her in the snowy woods, the scene that occupies her lonely nights when she tries in complete vanity to recreate the feel of his hands cradling her sides.

Mouse should be scared of König.

Instead, she sees before her a scene of complete and hopeless adoration focused so intently on her alone that she should be afraid of. Realistically, she recognizes the clear and present danger of the moment. Is König upset at her? At Soap? At a potential adversarial suitor by way of Gromsko? She doesn’t quite know, but after a career of intentionally hiding like a coward, she basks infatuated by the calamitous captivation he exhibits.

He looks like he wants to maul something to death.

As keen as she is on getting him close enough to try to get over to her (and ideally, throw her under him,) in her infinite mercy, Mouse decides the teasing has gone on long enough.

“I like Gromsko just fine, but not like that.” Soap audibly scoffs and König’s entire form relaxes. Both men mutter something to themselves before an encore of gunfire breaks out. Mouse’s heart stutters to a stop when her radio comes in.

“Visual on Gaz, he’s hit!” Nova calls out, clearly alarmed. Soap grabs for the radio right next to Mouse and brings it to his face, holding onto a few loose wires as he does to ensure the amalgamation does not fall apart in his fingers.

“Where is he?”

“Two blocks from south from you, Gromsko is a click out.”

Soap looks at Mouse with his heart bobbing in his throat. The pain and worry on his face is palpable.

“Go.” She says. Soap looks around frantically at their supplies, seemingly taking a split second worth of inventory, making as many life-or-death decisions as he can in such little time.

“Soap, listen to me,” Mouse soothes. “I keep overwatch, you take my TAC vest and stabilize him until he can get a medic.”

“Mouse, I can’t just leave you-” “You can, and you will. Go.” She says with all the finality of a door slamming shut. Soap doesn’t look at her again as he gathers her supplies and nearly sprints downstairs.

Soap leaves. Quickly. Quietly. He never looks back.

Her stomach settles into discomfort and she looks through the door he closed with the same sad nostalgia she looked through falling snow and monumentous trees. She can’t help but think she would not get the same priority in Gaz’s situation. Like some terrible premonition, she imagines bleeding out on the ground as Soap turns away, never once looking back.

Would König come for me? She ponders, before she smothers the paranoia-induced delusion with the memory of his large hands on her sides. She looks down at her shoelace, where she carved a cylindrical hole through his effigy to attach it. The birchwood mouse carving that sleeps at her right toe gives a silent reassurance: he never really left you, did he?

By the time she looks back into her scope, in between the all-too-familiar white noise of war that’s broken out around her, she sees a shadow dart out from the alleyway one down from where König is. The figure is cloaked in the specific type of military fatigue denoting his affiliation, one that is unluckily for him, kill on sight. It ducks behind the building to the right, where König is. It stalks out, lining itself up behind the hooded man, brandishing a drawn pistol.

König doesn’t have the time to react to the blood spray that litters across his back from the other man’s head once Mouse pulls the trigger on her gun, silently thankful (as awful as it is,) that Gaz getting hurt allowed her to take the shot without Soap inquiring into her actions. (But maybe it’s her fault in the first place that König was distracted enough to allow someone to get the drop on him…)

König looks back towards her and his head lulls to the side like a heavy flower bloom weighed down by morning dew. His eyes, somehow the softest she’s ever seen, are also carving a large chunk of her soul like a knife cuts through soft wood. When he lifts his hood to blow a kiss to her, she knows she will never get her traitorous heart back.

“Danke, mein Engel,” the radio on her table whispers in his voice.

“It’s only fair. I did owe you, after all.” She responds, all together unconcerned with whether or not he can hear her. She smiles, thankful she can see those bright eyes another day.

When he turns away, she feels her entire heart walk away with him. With every step of his fleeting form, she feels less and less herself, as though someone had separated her shadow from where it meets her feet. Something has changed in the air between them, a sad resignation settles into her trigger finger when she releases it.

For the first time, she does not feel as though she wouldn’t run if he took her, but rather that some integral part of her is with him as he leaves.

All is fair in love and war, but she’s not sure just how much longer she can stand to play cat and mouse.

taglist!

@kneelingshadowsalome @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar @berryjuicyy @haisebo @crowbird

And special thanks to @bucca2 and @ivymarquis for finally kicking my ass into gear to write this. Can't wait to read yall's WIPs!

#Navigation -> Cat/Mouse/Den #König #König x reader #König x OC #König MWii #König COD #Char: Mouse

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neonlight2 · 2 years ago

Note

Please can you write about the boys not wanting jaehaera to marry prompt

Thank you ❣️

Sure babe, thanks for the request, hope you like it. 🥀

Warning: incest?? (Not actually related but… adoption??), implied vulgarity/smut

Jaehaera Targaryen (OC) x House Targaryen, Hightower, and Velaryons

Masterlist:

The boys don’t want Jaehaera to get married just as much as she doesn’t…

To preface, there is no doubt every Lord AND Lady would have their eye on Jaehaera. More so when she comes of age, because as you do— and you will come to see, she does things that surpasses beliefs by then.

Along with the strife for power and wealth, many will simply be enticed by the princess. She is a striking sight to be held. Differing greatly from her family, yes. However the opposition within her beauty only makes her all the more mesmerizing… to everyone.

Her hair, longer and thicker than even the lion on the crest of the house of Lannister— whom would try and fail in humiliating rejection. It was black as obsidian and would sway when not put up. Sometimes, even when it was up, strands would fall, effortlessly finding the middle of her back.

That of which was her biggest controversy.

Her back.

Great lines, mimicking that of lighting within a raging storm, ran across her back. From nape to the bottom of her spine it spiraled and branched to vast whatever left on the sides. It contrasted her skin in every season. Turning a deep red in winter as her skin grew fair from the frosty air and decaying leafs, and white as bone as the sun’s rays caused the air to go hazy in one’s eyes, whilst sinking into flesh— making her a glowing bronze.

Many nobles found her lack of shame for them to be obscene. She seemed to like flaunting them, purposely wearing backless dresses, or ripping her tunics as to “feel the breeze against her skin”. That was the excuse that put Viserys at ease, for at least she was not simply laced by binding leather or cloth, which covered only as much as deemed necessary by Jaehaera. The decision always came down to her mood really.

Yet, as it became normal to people of court, those whom admire her couldn’t help becoming enticed by the scars. Later enticement lead to lust, and the princess was no stranger to things of that nature.

If anyone was lucky enough to even touch the princess, one would live in content for the rest of their life. To bed her was another, far too good to be described by any that had anyway… or maybe too dangerous. (We’ll find that out later.)

As Jaehaera became one with her body, controlling her limbs to her advantage in strategy of battle and manipulation, as well as the curves she had grown fond of, more took notice.

And those that had loved her before it all, well… it wasn’t long until they could no longer idly stand by.

Daemon felt as if he had been struck…

the moment he arrived on king landing soil he had at least expected his brother to welcome him home, being as that he was the one to send him to the wall in the first place. But when his feet hit the ground, and all he was comforted by was the sound of singing not too far away. Was there to be a celebration he knew not of? Daemon refused the idea of being left out of a party, and a part of him was eager to know that this mascaraed was for his victory.

News flash… it wasn’t.

He walked in, already stripped of armor, which he disposed of on the way there, and his eye grew wide. The magical purple of his iris had diminished into the blackness of his pupil. The sight in front of him was something he’d remember always; a cherished memory he wished to relive, yet was only satisfied whilst dreaming.

There she was, at least two feet taller than when he had left, spinning in circles. Her hair was let free, spiraling around with her, making those within her circle have to duck in cover or allow distance in between themselves and the Princess. She was a sight to behold, flush that traveled down all the way to her collar bone, skin glistened in a thin line of sweat from the activity. Daemon would bet that she had been like this for hours. And that was the only thing that irked him; he’d been too late to see the beginning.

While Daemon’s eyes took in all he could, the prince couldn’t help but noticed how her attire changed. How it caressed the curve of her breast, more full than before, whilst gripping her waist tight— as if to tease him. She had always been dangerous, but as Daemon felt his heart skip, he knew that she was now lethal.

“Brother! Finally you’ve joined us!”

His brother had never seemed more irritable.

Viserys was quick to beckon his brother, pulling him into a hug when able. He was definitely more drunk than sober. And it would seem he had his niece to thank for that.

“I thought it best to have a celebration for your return uncle.” Said a familiar voice, one he’d also missed and brought him great warmth.

Oh his princess.

“So this was your doing then, Rhaenyra?” He smiles, cocking his head at her coyly.

Laughing, a small blush creeping onto her face at his attention, she shook her head. “I thought to have a celebration, but Issa qēlos demanded it be done right here.” My star.

Glancing back onto the dance floor he noticed his raven haired beauty was no longer there. “Well she is a force to be reckoned with, that much I know hasn’t changed.” He stated, brows scrunched as he searched.

“Oh a lot has changed while you’ve been away Dae.”

Zipping around, he’s faced with shadow like girl. “Jaehaera.”

Raising a brow teasingly, she tilted her head to look past his shoulder at Rhaenyra. “I suppose he forgot his promise.”

Dawning on him as quick as an arrow, Daemon laughs. “Then allow me to apologize with a dance, Issa jaesa.” My goddess.

She took his hand without hesitation this time, only stopping his lead to whisper into Rhaenyra’s ear— making the pair giggle.

It would seem he’d have to catch up on inside jokes.

And he was right. Daemon’s chin rested comfortably against the crook of her neck, her head now too much of a stretch for him to place it there. As sad as he found the loss, secretly, the Prince couldn’t help but love the fact his nose was nestled close to her jaw. If he were to croon he’d feel her pulse. But he knew better than to do that in front of his brother. Especially since he’d only just returned.

“I’ve been a bit bored without you.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Daemon practically purred.

She hummed in confirmation, “Rhaenyra and Alicent have been the only people to keep me sane around here, and poor Queenie already has to deal with her own pestering suitors—,”

Jaehaera’s almost tripped due to Daemon’s feet halting at an obnoxious speed. She was just about to snip at his behavior when she met his eyes, which were anything but playful. Backing her head slightly to get a better grasp of his expression, she noticed a vein twitching at the side of his head.

“What?”

The word was harsh, force through gritted teeth as his hold on her grew more secure. His arm now wrapped around her middle, whilst his other intertwined with her own.

He was intimidating, no one could say otherwise, but Jaehaera knew better. He’d never actually hurt her, on purpose anyway.

“Don’t ‘what’ me Daemon, and don’t look at me like that. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Jaehaera remarked, pushing her body against his to make him move once again. She didn’t need her father being suspicious of their sudden stop of festivities.

“And it’s not like you’re the one being bothered by a bunch of pompous pricks.”

Shifting his tight jaw, Daemon exhaled deeply through his nose and ease back as much as he could. But his eyes had a mind of their own, jumping to every lord around, marking each one that even dared to glance at the princess as a target.

“What has Viserys said—?”

“He told me that I could do as I wish.”

Daemon’s shoulders loosened at that.

“I’m guessing you put them all in there place then?”

“All the arrogant ones,” she stated with a small smile. “Some were quite polite actually.”

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Daemon twirled her ferociously before picking her up to tower above all others.

“Is that what pleases you? Politeness?”

Biting her lip to surprise a giggle, Jaehaera stared down at Daemon— those amber eyes lit aflame. “Respect is nice, but I do enjoy good groveling.”

Nodding, Daemon lowered the princess slowly till they were face level. He was going to whisper sweet, nasty things to her, wanting to see her blush desperately, but she beat him to the punch.

“I do like my lovers on their knees.”

A guttural moan found itself lodged in the rogue Prince’s throat. “I’ve made you insatiable haven’t I, Issa jaesa.” My goddess.

“You and Rhaenyra alway insist to feed my ego,” she shrugged playfully, slowing as the dance came to an end.

“I’d gladly take the blame. Something divine as you should be worshipped. Settle for no less.”

“I think you just don’t want me to get married.”

“No lord nor lady here deserves you.”

And he meant every word. From then on Daemon was a menace. If anyone approached her and Jaehaera didn’t seem the least bit amused— they were done for. Even in some events where they did please her, Daemon could not help but for jealous by the loss of attention. Sure, he could share with Rhaenyra and his brother, perhaps even lady Alicent at times, but he refused to let anyone outside the tiny circle Jaehaera had made up for herself have her. He was never one to cage her in manner of physicality. It would be hypocritical of him. But he always made it known when it did displease him.

Then he was either scolded or given the attention he had been begging for. Both made his blood hot and his head fuzzy. As long as he kept those addictive eyes on him, and her hand free.

Aegon was a passive aggressive little fucker…

He would shamelessly throw himself onto Jaehaera, being the clingy bitch he is. It didn’t matter if they were at a huge gathering or in their own company— Aegon was touching her in some way or lingering in her vicinity. It had been that way since he was young. She was the only person he ever longed to be with always. And if he wasn’t it was one of two reasons:

1. Jaehaera was traveling, which much to his disappointment was more often than not.

Or,

2. He was compensating for the lack of attention she was giving him by drinking his weight in wine or surrounding himself with women who kept his mind fuzzy enough to imagine that Jaehaera was there with him.

Oh, and Aegon was by far more vulgar than his brother in his affections for her.

It shouldn’t be a shocker how dirty Aegon is. In most regard, Jaehaera was the only figure he ever looked up to and felt completely loved by.

His father thought him a waste of space, a disappointment to his mother, and he fell short completely to his siblings. Not to mention he had little to no relationship to his sister Rhaenyra nor her children— even though he did quite miss his friendship with Jace, whether he admitted or not.

The single bonding factor for his family was her. And in a way, he loved her more for it.

But then again, Jaehaera was there for most of his childhood. Which meant while he was going through puberty, she was the only woman beside his mother and his sister that was around him most of the time. And he found her glorious.

He found that the maids he haphazardly fooled around with to be nothing in comparison. Thankfully however, he did treat them respectfully in that regard. He was still a proud prick about his status, but there’s no way he’d be disrespectful to a woman— especially one he’d slept with, while Jaehaera was around.

She definitely covered for him in the beginning. After finding him balls deep in one of the older ladies of court, when Alicent had been searching for him at during a banquet, she could only laugh to herself and tease him about it later. Nonetheless, she told Alicent he was taking a piss and would be back soon enough.

He would for sure test his limits with her. At first he’d hang on her figure whilst she discussed formal business, totally unamused and making himself busy by playing with the long strands of hair falling to her back. His cheek would lay heavy on her shoulder, collecting sweat in between as time went on, and his fingers would trail. Once he let them glide delicately against her scars, liking the differing texture in skin. At first it could even be counted as innocent, which would only last for a few moments. Soon his hand would trail down, and Jaehaera would sway him hard enough to make him hiss and back off. He’d give her a “sweet” grin and speedily kiss her neck before running away.

Being that as it may, he didn’t take it to kindly when Lords would approach her. Ladies he didn’t mind, and he would admit that it was because he was rather fond of Jaehaera’s ambiguity within sexuality. He just didn’t like when there could be a legal tie involved. And if any lord was to be with her, there was a higher chance to push marriage.

Not to mention, if we’re being completely honest, he just doesn’t like when she pays attention to any man other than him. This included his brother to an extent. But most of the time he needn’t worry, because his family always seemed overly protective and possessive of Jaehaera. So he wasn’t alone in his efforts.

Although, there was an infamous spectacle involving him and Lord Lannister…

“Have you lost your mind boy?!”

Aegon blinked slowly at his father, waiting for this to all blow over, as if dismembering the son of a high lord were a small mishap.

“Father, the only one who’s lost anything is Lord Lannister—,”

“What in the seven hells were you thinking?!” Viserys bellowed

Aemond could help but scoff out a laugh, surprisingly proud of his older brother. To be fair, if Aegon hadn’t done it, he would be the one being scolded.

“Lord Lannister crossed a line—,” Aegon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was pounded something fierce, and he couldn’t decide whether to blame the alcohol he had a few hours before or this whole conundrum.

“What? Did he harm your ego so far that it gave you the means to cut off his finger?”

“My king,” Jaehaera stepped forward, brushing Aegon’s side with a gentle hand to his shoulder— a gesture of comfort— without looking at him. “I will speak for him.”

Viserys let out an exasperated exhale, “You protect him too much. The boy has to learn to justify his actions.”

“Father, I only did what anyone else in this family would have.” The prince watched as his father scoffed, taking the hand Jaehaera offered instantly. His mother, Alicent stood by, inching her hand to grab the other in order to feel some relief.

Even she seemed to not believe him.

“Lannister put his filthy hand on Jaehaera.”

Everything went still. All that could be heard was a quick wince come from the tall princess.

She really wished to keep that a secret. Enough trouble had begun already.

“Father, it’s been taken care of.” Her words were meant to coo away any violent thoughts warping Viserys mind, but it hardly worked with so many around.

“You should have aimed for his whole hand.” Alicent stated, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Ali!” Jaehaera hissed, yanking away her hand.

She only received a flickering glance before Alicent shared a knowing look with her husband, then moving toward her son. Eventually kissing his cheek while muttering, “Well done.”

He smiled like an idiot for the rest of the day. Cause I’m his mind…

He still had a chance.

Aemond was possessive, and he wasn’t shy about it…

But he was far more strategic and regal in his affection or actions. Unlike his brother, he understood the importance of court.

Aemond’s touches were subtle and his words witty. He would take every opportunity to compliment Jaehaera. He would even go as far to put the thought of a ball, festival, or banquet into his mother’s head; it was all in hopes of seeing Jaehaera and spending numerous hours with her.

For most of his childhood, her presence was capricious. She came and went faster then the seasons changed. The kingdom would be lucky if she stayed for a month, for there was always work to be done across the sea. There was a rumor that if she and her dragon were to stay longer than a moon’s time then they’d turn to ash. Sadly, Aemond couldn’t prove them wrong.

But when she did come home, it was always when she was urged by her family. Of course, the request had to be occasional, or she’d discard every other one in the fire of Shykros breath or the salty mist below them. Most of the time they knew the chance of impending dance would lure her back.

One of his fondest memories with her was when she had come home two days before the timely hunt of the season, followed by a sleepless night of eating, dancing, and fucking. No one slept of their own free will; it was only until they could no longer stand or ached to move. By royal decree. Part of the few Jaehaera had set into motion.

As she spared with him, a exuberant smile etched into her face, Jaehaera practically twirled with every turn. Disarming him in few minutes, she always picked up his sword (which she gifted him) and spoke eagerly. “Again.”

Dare he say, he’d never seen her so elated during training. Sure, Aemond knew her to be playful and cunning. Perhaps a bit mischievous at time— wicked when provoked— but otherwise she was always calculated while sparring. She practiced like it was battle. As if she would die that very session. The only sign of humanity during the process was shown at the end, after her opponent laid on the floor beneath her. Sometimes if she was too far gone she’d even have them pinned, her foot on their chest and her blade hovering just above their neck.

Rare, but he’d seen it. She was ravenous and chaotic, yet so controlled. Aemond was enthralled by Jaehaera, and he made it known. (Much like Daemon in that regard.)

“Why are you so happy Fae?” A nickname he’d given her in his youth after she told him the tails of fairies and mythology. While magic flowed through his veins, he thought her the definition of magic.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” She quipped back, flipping her sword around her hand. “My whole family is to be under the same roof.” Jaehaera was beaming at the thought.

Aemond couldn’t help but feel torn. He loved that expression she was wearing, but what brought her happiness also meant he lost pieces of her. Parts of herself she would give away to his sister and uncle.

“Gods I haven’t seen Nyra in forever.” Jaehaera let out a proper giggle. Eyes shining bright. “Daemon will be there too no doubt. That is if his petty fit is over.”

“It’s diminish the moment he hears your attending.” Aemond said, his tone sharper than he meant. Their blades meeting briefly in the same second.

“Yes I suppose. I haven’t seen him in a month, and I know by the lack of responses to my letters of Dorne he and Nyra’s aren’t necessarily pleased.”

Furrowing his brow, he blocks her advance and lunges to the side. She pounced to the opposite. “Why is that?”

“I was propositioned five times. A valiant effort I’ll give them that.” Jaehaera laughed as her mind wandered far. “I almost said yes to one.”

Aemond couldn’t help but grind his teeth.

He knew she loved Dorne. Everyone knew she loved Dorne. She found their customs more comely than the pristine life at court. It was natural for her to fit in there.

That frightened her family to no end.

Locking his jaw, Aemond fueled his anger into his legs. And for a short time he even managed to back her close to the wall. But they never made it there.

It was quickly over after Jaehaera hit the hilt of his sword, making him stagger— she didn’t care if the sword grazed her skin. Her eyes were always on the prize. Soon enough he was on the floor. Both could only hear each others heavy breathing and the thumping in their chests.

Except Aemond’s heart was fueled by adrenaline and worry.

“I cut you—,”

“It’s alright. My move was risky. You did very well.”

“No, I should have—,”

“Aemond,” she looked down at him, tone stern and hand reached out. “You did well. You’re improving.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Aemond nodded with a downcast expression. His hand finding hers.

“Would I lie to you?”

“No.”

“Then don’t look as if I have. It’s a happy day, and I expect you to have a glorious time. I can’t dance with moping feet.”

Sure enough, Aemond perked up. She danced with him for almost half the night. In the beginning of the banquet he had her all to himself. He would have accompanied her during the hunt, but Dameon had to fucking steal her the moment he arrived.

Aemond knew he’d have to be a fool not to count Daemon and Nyra as competitors. Seven hells, he felt jealousy creep up his spine when his own mother and siblings had her attention.

He knew about his mothers past with Jaehaera. It was the plot to most of his bestie stories as a child. The fondness of Alicent’s voice while talking about her seeped into his ears like wax on paper. Sealing a decree like a code of honor. Only as he grew older did he recognize the emotion he knew all too well within his mothers eyes. And his brother and sister were no better.

So he’d use the similarity in interests to his advantage.

If Jaehaera was on training grounds, so was he.

If she was in the library it was because he had ordered new books, told her of them, and awaited for her there. Where they would talk of philosophy, fantasy, politics, and morality. Often whilst sitting in close proximity— enough to be considered in each others laps (head, feet, hips, all were touched when in reach).

He’d ride beside as they flew through the sky. Their dragons kindred. Sometimes they’d race, sometimes Aemond watched as she do tricks— practically hanging from her saddle.

And if this weren’t enough…

He’d place his hand strategically wherever was closest to touching another person. If they were in a group, and someone’s shoulder was close enough to brush against Jaehaera’s— Aemond’s hand was there in seconds. No one but family deserved to touch her, and even then he felt limitations.

He’d see Aegon kiss her skin and cling to her “like a child”. The bastard was more cunning then he let on.

Most of the time he had the strength to let it go, but other times he simply walked over and kicked his brother in the shin.

Holding her hand was his predominant way for showing his affection. He wasn’t shameless like Aegon. He saved farther physicality for private. There he was more aggressive. Constantly grabbing what he was allowed, nudging the rules as him and Jaehaera talked by the fire in his or her room— hand creeping and molding into her thigh.

OH— and the level of obsession he has with her back is insane. Sure, before his own scar, he found them mesmerizing, but after the incident they took on an entirely different meaning for Aemond. He knew how it felt. To be marked. For all the world to see.

What people didn’t know was that her scars didn’t stop at the end of her spine. They went till the middle of her thighs, circling around them like snakes. And a few even made their way around her rib cage, just below her breasts.

Only few had seen them (cough cough– Daemon and Rhaenyra, and a few others you’ll meet), and he’d only got the chance because she needed help replacing her bandages one day after coming back from battle.

She’d never let the maesters treat them. She thought them imbeciles. And if she were to be open— as she was with anyone she allowed to see; they always asked the same question: “How did you get them?”

It was a sensitive topic for her. And the story only made Aemond feel even more encompassed by his love for her. (That’ll be a story for later.)

Let’s just say, he rubbed that in his brothers face— tastefully. No details of her tale, but enough to get back at Aegon for his vulgar comments.

Aemond always kept his eyepatch off when they were alone with each other. Simply because Jaehaera had picked out the very gem laying in his socket, and she said “You look beautiful.”

Let that sink in.

Jacaerys and Lucerys felt the same in this regard…

Both agreed that no one (lord, lady, or ruler) would be worthy of Jaehaera. It was simple as that. A shared idea amongst the whole family. She was the one thing that could unite the feuding sides.

However— unlike their cousins— they viewed Jaehaera like another mother. So while Aegon and Aemond had their own selfish ideals— along with their mother and Daemon— the boys just wanted Jaehaera to be happy.

Yes, they were Rhaenyra’s boys. But they were also her boys.

And from what they could see, and the way in which she spoke to them, she already was happy. Traveling was her passion, and they never wished to see that disappear. She was their idol, who they looked up too (other than Rhaenyra).

She taught Jace everything and anything to do with swordsmanship and whatever else he needed or wanted. The same with Luke. She treated them equally, distributing affection evenly through words of praise, tight hugs and loving pats atop their heads.

Luke never felt left out for his lack of experience in sword craft, nor was he shamed for not wanting his position. She praised him for his kindness and compassion, while others mocked it for weakness. Jaehaera urged his love of music and poetry, and often snuck him out of the palace (as well as Jace if he wished to come) to travel to foreign lands. It didn’t matter if he’d have to go to schooling with only an hour of rest. He’d do it every night if he could.

Jaehaera never once made Jace feel pressured in his title, being heir to the throne— when so many questioned his legitimacy. She would simply say, “if they call you illegitimate than I am a fraud.” For if he could defend her name with valiance and ferocity , then why could he not do the same for himself. She never denied that he was of Strong, but she never let him say that he was not Laenor’s son. Her dear friend doted more dutifully to those boys than most fathers in general. He was, in every sense she believed important, their father.

So… both were more supportive than the rest in the notion of her getting married. Secretly, they may hope she’d marry someone close to them so they could see her more (a little bias towards some suitors). But as long as Jaehaera is happy, they are too.

(We’ll talk about Laenor later, just know he’d support whatever she’d want caused they’re each others emotional support people. Besties for life.)

Viserys hated the thought as well…

and was ever so delighted upon hearing her destain for the idea as well. Hypocritical of him, he’d admit. Pushing for one daughter to marry while pending the other for as long as able; it was chaos he had a hand in. But in his heart and mind he knew it must be that way. But his word always guaranteed the very known truth…

Jaehaera was not to be touched, unless she wished it so.

***

(Definitely gonna do the girls later, but I think it’s kinda obvious that they’re somewhat the same as the boys.)

163 notes · View notes

pinkberrytea · 2 months ago

Note

Cuz I saw this on Twitter somewhere and it never caught here, please give us beautiful lady Mav mascarade attire! who she’d be taking (and if they’d be matching)and what possible mission they could be up too for this lil excursion (if it’s a mission at all) 🥴💜 (only if you want too!)

Bless you for this ask nonnie, may both sides of your pillow always be nice and cool 🙏✨ I had a little too much fun with this one, ngl 😅 I can’t help it, masquerades are one of the most exciting settings for a fantasy story, the possibilities are nearly endless 😭 And the aesthetics too are very much my cup of tea❣️

Mav would be taking Astarion, of course! Here are some attire inspos I snatched from Pinterest. I love making them wear matching light and dark outfits, I think it fits them so well 🥰

As for what their mission would be, probably something to do with vampire society! Maybe some vampire overlord has heard of Cazador’s demise and Astarion’s ascension—they invite him and his consort to a masquerade attended exclusively by vampire elite, under the guise of welcoming the new fledging into their midst. However, by the end of the night, they’re both tricked and Mav is taken hostage by the overlord’s minions. She feeds exclusively on Astarion, which is how he imparts his ascended blessings on her—so by drinking her blood, her capturers may too become sunwalkers! Now Astarion must save his darling bride, lest she is lost to him forever 🩸🥀

#personal #oc: mavka #asks #i’d love to write a fic like that but i doubt anyone would be interested #still a lot of fun to think about though!#ty again for the ask nonnie! mwah! 😘❣️

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macolegacy · 9 months ago

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❣️💗🥀 for Rylen and Ataqo bc they make me cry already so whats some more tears :)))

even 2 years after u sent me this ask, you have unleashed the rylen/ataqo gates and brother i am drowning in feelings again !!!! 🏊‍♂️

💗— Do they noticeably change once they’re in love? Is it easy to notice or just something their partner would pick up on?

Rylen is very, very hard to pick up on regarding any changes. He’s an Imperial Agent after all — he has full control of his body, facial expressions and (to a degree) emotions. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them knoooooow. So from the outside, he would appear as always; quite stoic, distant and dry. And boring. So, so boring. (By design). So no, not even Ataqo would pick up on any changes on Rylen’s feelings unless Rylen lets his guard down on purpose. Ataqo is less in control. Naturally, as he has never formally received any agent training and grew up on Nar Shaddaa mainly working in kitchens & bars, there is no need for subtlety or subterfuge where your body could betray you. He only recently ‚joined‘ (questionable, really) the SIS and became their informant fairly recently, and occasionally acts as backup when fights break out. With other partners and crushes he has had, Ataqo had been way more open about his affection once he has really fallen in love with someone and it would be visible to anyone. Spring in his step, good mood, smiling all the time while sunk in his thoughts. But with Rylen? He is so, SO afraid of admitting it, both to him and to himself quite frankly. He’s afraid to tell or show Rylen because he doesn’t want to scare him away, due to the nature of their relationship, their backgrounds and affiliations. So he tries his best to appear ‚normal‘ as always, like nothing changed, however Rylen does pick up on it. And it scares Rylen as well.

Which is why…

🥀 — How well would they handle a breakup?

… Rylen then stops their relationship. Technically it’s not a breakup because they were never a couple to begin with, just an affair that got out of hand when feelings started to blossom (for both of them), but it very much feels like one. and BOTH of them cope with it so badly. so very very bad. Rylen immediately shoves all of his feelings into a corner of his mind and then never thinks about it again, and usually, that does the job for him, but not this time. His own mind betrays him, and he’s quite literally haunted by Ataqo and what they had, and how it changed Rylen’s perspective on life and his desires for life in general. Letting go of those memories and feelings is not as easy as he wants and needs it to be. On the outside, he seems relatively normal to the untrained eye. But he is distracted enough that Vrupet & her apprentices notice something is off about him and that he is less focused when not working than usual.

⚠️ warning for mentions of alcohol overuse ⚠️

Ataqo is doing bad as well, and again, it’s more visible to outsiders than Rylen. He’s been smoking and drinking more, to the point where he had several blackouts after too many nights of partying in a row to distract himself, his insomnia is at an all time high, and as a result he is super unfocused and just tired all the time. During this time he befriends Kronos, who also goes through the same thing as him (break up) so they lift each other up, but also let each other indulge in way too much than they should. It takes Xiame and Daro to get both of them to snap out of this phase, and eventually they do. Ataqo does eventually try to get over it in a ‚fake it till you make it‘ way trying to convince himself that it never could have worked out between Rylen and him, and it is working. somewhat. so in that aspect, ataqo is doing better than rylen.

and then they stumble into each other again and we are SO back at where we started <3

❣️— When do they first say ‚I love you‘?

When they get back together again, it’s actually Rylen that says it first. It’s a conscious decision and full on confession and declaration of love on his part — in a 20-minute speech about his life and ‚how he never even considered this was a possibility for someone like him to desire and experience and that he was so so incredibly stupid to ever deny himself and ataqo this relationship and that he wants to be with him forever‘ kind of way. <3 its one of my favorite scenes to think about, because it would happen in such a seemingly random moment — ataqo would have just made them breakfast, nothing fancy or super hard to make, and everything seemed normal. but rylen, sitting at this small table in this super small apartment thats WAY too expensive than what it’s actually worth, being served breakfast that was made with such love and care, rylen would just explode in this moment from all he’s feeling and just rant his heart out until he’d come to an abrupt stop, breathless for a few seconds, before just saying ‚i love you‘ which is THE most agitated and emotional ataqo would have ever seen him. in his life.

i care them. thank u so much for asking. ❤️

#ur wifi gets cut out and here u are answering 2-4 yo asks. lol #hope you enjoy !!! and i hope its readable and understandable #ataqo #rylen #askbox #uldren-s0v #alcohol #drinking #to be safe

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cobiehaven · 2 years ago

Text

Stray Kids Masterlist

fluff (💖) // funny (🤡) // drama (💋) // angst (🌧️) // horror (🥀) // smut (🍷) // suggestive (❣️) // tw (‼️) // short story (☕️) // requested (💌)

Collaborations;

none :)

All // Series;

none :)

Bang Chan/Chris;

none :)

Lee Know/Minho;

none :)

Changbin;

Sore Muscles // workout buddies au // 0.5k // 💖🤡❣️☕️

changbin is a big softie and massages your aching muscles for you.

Hyunjin;

Venom // mafia au // 0.2k // ‼️☕️

hyunjin has crossed a line and you were willing to disobey direct orders to get your rightful revenge.

Hunted // hitman au, boxer au // 3.2k // 💋🌧️🤡

hyunjin might be a hired killer but for some reason he finds it really hard to kill you, but you could care less about him, you just want to know who killed your parents and why they’re coming after you next.

Han/Jisung;

none :)

Felix;

We See Stars // royalty au // 1.4k // 💖

felix wants to talk about the stars but you can’t help but want to trace his stars.

Seungmin;

Jinxed // rockstar au // 2.6k // 💖🤡💋❣️

you got the job to be seungmin’s personal stylist! this was your dream! only.. you keep embarrassing yourself in front of him.

I.N/Jeongin;

With You on Lonely St. // post-apocalypse au // 3.1k // 💖🌧️🥀‼️

great minds think alike, they say. maybe that’s why you and him have so much chemistry?

Timestamps;

HYUNJIN — [ 5:57 ] gn!reader // w: a joke about your weight, swearing // 1.1k // 💖🤡

in which both you and your boyfriend are exhausted and you attempt to move him to the bed, but he insists on cuddling in a hammock instead.

JISUNG — [ 3:27 ] gn!reader // w: second hand embarrassment, playful fighting // 0.4k // 🤡☕️

jisung loves to tease you by setting your wallpaper to embarrassing photos of yourself every other day. therefore, war has been declared.

MTL;

who’s most likely to date a chubby girl — 💖

Reactions/Headcons;

acts of intimacy — 💖💋🌧️❣️

none :)

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stylesloveclub · 2 years ago

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about me!

this blog contains explicit content, so please dni if you are under 18!!! larries also pls do not interact!!!

hi!!! welcome to my blog!! my name is ira and i love harry (obviously)!! i also love taylor, lorde, lana, etc etc :) im a huge twilight girl and u may have noticed that i have mentioned pride and prejudice (2005) in a lot of my writing bc it’s my favvvvv movie ever !!!! i read lots and lots of books and i love talking about them, i’m always eager to receive book recs!!!

u wanna be friends w me? YAY, i wanna be friends with u too!! i’m really not the best texting buddy (SORRY), so i don’t usually respond to any dms! if u want to talk to me the best way is through my ask box!! i promise i try my best to respond to asks daily and i really really really do love talking to everyone!!! i just ask that if u do become a regular anon/asker, pls don’t spam ! sometimes it takes me a while to respond just bc life gets busy and stuff, so if i still haven’t responded try keep it to like ... one or two asks a day LOL :)

also please think twice before you send something dark/heavy. i love talking to u guys and giving advice, but at the end of the day i’m not a therapist or a professional of any sorts. If you really are seeking someone to talk to, try one of these resources:

24/7 Crisis Hotline: 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. Veterans, press 1 when calling.

Crisis Text Line: Text TALK to 741-741 to text with a trained crisis counselor from the Crisis Text Line for free, 24/7

LASTLY, please do not send any invasive or uncomfortable asks. i will not respond to asks that i feel invade my privacy and you will most likely be blocked!

are u a writer??? YAY!!!! ppl often ask me if i can beta read/ edit their stories, and while i’d LOVE to help, unfortunately i genuinely barely have time to work on my own fics :( I PROMISE if we ever talk about ur writing and i have the time i will offer my help!!! but if i say no pls do not take it personal :(

I do not give permission for anyone to copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my writing on any social media platforms, apps, or third party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are Tumblr, Patreon, and Wattpad, under the username @stylesloveclub. Any other reposts of my writing will be reported as plagiarism and taken down. My blog is 18+, so minors pls dni!

taken anons: lover anon 💗, flower anon 🌷, acotar anon 🥀, baking anon ❣️, hospital anon, balloon anon 🎈, moon anon 🌙, pregnant anon, waitress anon! if u want to be an emoji anon just lmk! :)

#about me

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thedeadthree · 2 years ago

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-`. WHATS YOUR OCS ROLE IN A TRAGEDY?

TAGGED BY @nightbloodraelle, @detectivelokis, @chuckhansen, @gwynbleidd, @corvosattano, @shellibisshe, @leviiackrman, @minaharkers, @marivenah and @socially-awkward-skeleton to take this loveliest uquiz for a few dears! ty ty so much!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @risingsh0t, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @marivenah, @shadowglens, @queennymeria, @denerims, @jackiesarch, @unholymilf, @kingsroad, @gelvaan, @nokstella, @girlbosselrond, @rosebarsoap, @malefiicarum, @phillipsgraves, @aelyosos, @calenhads, @florbelles, @aartyom, @50sjello, @heroofpenamstan, @themysteriouslou, @noonfaerie, @jacobseed, @blissfulalchemist, @adelaidedrubman, @aceghosts, @loriane-elmuerto and you!

MISUNDERSTOOD VILLAIN

prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway.

DESPERATE NARRATOR

this story is a cycle, and you're spinning around it like a hamster in a ball being tormented by a cat. you know how this story ends. after all, you've told it a thousand times. but you try to change it every time. you love the people in this story more than anything. so watching them fall victim to the narrative breaks you in a way you can't begin to describe. but all you can do is tell the story── their story── with tears in your eyes. you're prone to anxiety and feelings of helplessness. you have so much love in your heart, and for once you wish it would change something. it didn't. it doesn't. it won't. but you refuse to stop telling the story. and you refuse to stop loving the people in it. in this way, no one is stronger than you. you just wish being strong hurt less.

UNASSUMING EXTRA

you had maybe 3 lines but you will forever own my heart. you play a very minor role, one often forgotten about (not by me tho bby, i'll love you forever). however, your significance in the story is pretty big. something about you propels the story forward in a way no one else can do. you tend to blend into the background, and you probably like it that way. you want a simple life, free from the drama of the main characters. unfortunately, your story is almost always cut short. your role is usually a death that kickstarts the plot. going unnoticed did not save you, but it probably did bring you some peace of mind.

TORTURED LOVE INTEREST

you're so hot. sorry about the horrors. you're the kind of person people immediately notice. whether you have a distinct style, are more outgoing, or are just plain beautiful, you make an impression. people usually feel the need to protect you, which probably frustrates you to no end. you're not weak! you're not fragile! you're not helpless! but the people in your life tend to disagree. maybe it's your lover, the protagonist, trying to keep you out of their own turmoil. maybe it's someone responsible for you in some way, keeping you away from your lover, while they head down an increasingly dark path. regardless, all you really want is a sense of autonomy! unfortunately, you're very likely to die before that happens. the audience will be so caught up in the grief your death causes the protagonist that they forget to grieve you as a person. you deserved better, but unfortunately this is not your story. maybe it should have been.

SWEET SUPPORTING CHARACTER

i wanna be your grandma so bad, please let me pinch your face and knit you a sweater. you're most likely the best friend of the protagonist, and there's some possible overlap between you and the narrator. you're sweet and try very hard to be selfless. you watch the ones you love descend into darkness, and make every effort to help them through it all. it's not enough. you keep trying to make it enough. you provide comic relief, a listening ear, a hug, advice── any method of support you can think of. your own personal tragedy isn't documented. sometimes you wish it was, even though you're the one who ensures it is not. you want people to care for you the way you do for others. but you refuse to ask for it, so you wait for others to read between the lines. they usually don't. at least you're the one who gets to survive the tragedy. no matter how many times you beg to trade places, it is always you at the end, sitting at someone else's grave.

BOLD PROTAGONIST

you're the star of the show, baby! and boy does that come with a lot of emotional turmoil. you have a seemingly endless supply of determination. whether you have a lot of goals, or one big one, you're constantly working towards it. you're pretty restless, and struggle with imposter syndrome and generally feeling like you should be doing more. your insecurity might not be immediately obvious to others, however, as you come across as very strong and bold. vulnerability is not your strong suit, and that's likely to be your downfall. if only you had just let people in, and asked for help... well, maybe this was always gonna be a tragedy.

#only if you want to of course 🥀❣️#oc: aerea andoral #oc: olga litvinchuck #oc: iryna pasternak #oc: alphonsa cousland #oc: alkyone uesugi #oc: valaenya targaryen #ok ok for the oddest reason the read more i believe is being eaten by tungle 🥀😖 it’s fineeee it’s fine!#and alas the laptop passed away yesterday but ! luckily this saved in the drafts and that i was able to buy a new one today <3 #ANYWAY ! 🔮✨#pleased to introduce dearie girl aerea here ! <3 🔮✨#ofc she doesn’t remain a villainess forever (darn din making her reconsider her loyalties darn feelings 🔮✨💀) but! so true bestie!#‘you may be acting out of revenge’ and the whether or not she is truly a villain FIRST OF ALL uquiz are u reading my mind bc?? EXCUSE ME?#i am so excited i am SO excited for y’all to get to know her 🔮✨😭 I ADORE HER ALREADY #she has a backstory and story i am so excited to develop AHH (and also her relationship with m*ando my BELOVED)#EXCUSE ME THE AUDACITY IRYNA ISNT A MERE UNASSUMING EXTRA ✨😠 THE AUDACITY #me and raul making the leave iryna be society 🥀🗡✨😭 SHE JUST WANTS HER PEACE AND QUIET!!!!!#and me and logan making the protect olga at all costs society bc her ANSWERR HER ANSWER TOOK ME OUT 🥀🗡✨😭#‘but all you can do is tell the story their story with tears in your eyes’ and the ‘you wish it could change something it didnt it doesn’t’#thinking about her arc and trying not to cry thinking about this answer and trying not to cry (alyssa im soo normal about this TOTALLY)#ALFIEE THE TEYRNIRS DELIGHT THE ASHEN QUEEN i am not emotional about this it’s so SILLY ✨😖#i mean thinking of how she may be in d*readwolf likely presumed deceased by the realm and how NOT WELL any particular love interest who gave #her a rose may be feeling at this very moment <3 ✨😖 SOOOO NORMAL 🥀✨#ALKY SWEETIE PIE HONEY BUNCH <3 they’re a nymph and my baby and i adore her very much <3 (they go by they/she pronouns btw<3)#alky is one of my ocs for tcp and i am very very excited for y’all to get to know them 🌿✨ nymph dearie! she’s so special to me!#THE WAY I WAS LIKE OH ENYA WOULD FOR SURE HAVE THE ANSWER SHE DID AND AHH! vindication! i was right! and so true bestie 🥀✨🗡😌#leg.ocs #leg.tagged #and once more appreciation for ash and her galaxy brain making this CUTEST banner templaye 🥀✨🗡😌

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