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theeveninghour · 8 months ago

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All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue!

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone.

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did.

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident.

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights.

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave.

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you.

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness.

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you.

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.”

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.”

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink.

“Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night.

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there.

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

“Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble.

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights.

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle.

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle.

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes.

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought.

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief.

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress.

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile.

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?”

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you.

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.”

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these.

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand.

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble.

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.”

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.”

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen.

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?”

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible.

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach.

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well.

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you.

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master.

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms. He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.”

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life.

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence.

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth.

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.”

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking.

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.”

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow.

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.”

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved.

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine.

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave.

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later.

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern.

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening. “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage.

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again.

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked.

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this.

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all.

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you.

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.”

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in.

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines.

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls.

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.�� He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him.

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #i love this bat boy sm #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #bat boys x reader #bat boys #azriel acosf #azriel acomaf #This is utter filth guys #These two really went at it for like 24 hours straight

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blackleatherjacketz · 6 months ago

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Shadow and Sin: Chapter 1

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Your art is finally put on display at a local gallery, and Klaus has a vested interest in it.

Warnings: Klaus Being Klaus, No Personal Space, Alcohol, Flirting, Almost Kisses, Art Interpretation, Dark Themes

Word Count: 1.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Your first art show in New Orleans isn’t nearly as extravagant as you thought it would be, despite the small jazz band in the corner and the free champagne being served at the door. The jubilant music seems to fade off into the distance as you stand just a few feet away from one of your pieces, silently stalking the patrons as they walk by and observe it, muttering amongst themselves. You try to hone in on what they’re saying about your work, about how it makes them feel, or if they’ve caught onto any messages you’ve hidden in your mixed medium on canvas. So far it’s just been a mixture of silence and solitary comments like “interesting” or “hmm” as the glass of champagne warms to room temperature in your hand.

“Which one’s yours?” A man’s eloquent voice pulls you from your anxious thoughts, forcing you to look over at his delicately handsome face as he walks toward you with a confidence that could rival royalty.

“Huh?” You take a sip of your lukewarm champagne in order to gain some liquid courage to engage with this gorgeous man who seemed to appear out of thin air.

“I’d recognize that look anywhere,” he starts, touching one of the sculptures he clearly wasn’t supposed to. “Will they like it? Will they understand it? But most importantly, will they buy it?”

“That obvious, huh?” You take another sip, letting the bubbles take their time to crinkle your nose as the rest of the carbonation slowly fizzles out.

“Painfully, I’m afraid.” That smirk of his warms into a coy smile as he takes a step toward you, his own glass of champagne nearly empty. “Yours isn’t the landscape with the sailboat, no… those waters look far too calm for you.” He stands next to you and continues to guess, letting his fresh clean scent surround you as hints of a bergamont settle into the air. “Not the still life either, you don’t strike me as someone who focuses on something as mundane as coffee and beignets.” He pauses and looks at you briefly, taking in your features. “No, a work of art from your hands has to contain something different, something much… darker.”

“And what makes you think that?” You chide in return, enjoying this little game he’s created for himself. “Maybe I love coffee and beignets.”

“Well, darling, who doesn’t? But that’s not why you became an artist, now is it?” He raises his eyebrows, giving you a chance to notice the hints of green and gold in his blue eyes.

He was good, you’ll give him that.

“My money’s on the portrait of the faceless woman drenched in blood.” His tone drops to the level of darkness he previously described as he steps behind you, his voice like butter as it melts down each vertebrae of your spine. “It’s beautiful, really; the way you captured the themes of the tortured and macabre while still maintaining an intimate beauty of the feminine experience. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

His change in tambre and location freezes you in place, forcing you to look at your own painting through his eyes as he hovers behind you, making you shiver with the anticipation of his intentions. The fact that you’ve allowed him to get this close so fast makes you wrestle with the idea that you may already desire this stranger based on nothing more than the words he’s chosen to speak with that velvety voice of his. Are you that subject to flattery? That desperate for validation? Longing that deeply for some level of intimate connection? Perhaps you are...

After what seems like an eternity of moral gymnastics, you no longer resist the temptation to turn toward him as he guesses correctly, noting the triumphant look on his face as your lips linger mere inches away from his. You barely notice the still breath that remains inside your lungs, expanding your rib cage for far too long as you stare at his plump lips, taking heed of the single droplet of champagne that rests on them.

“And what makes you such an expert on the feminine experience?” You manage to ask as he allows you to stare at him a little bit longer before answering your question.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m merely a curious third party who’s invested in the local artists that my charitable donations help support.” He confesses with a step back.

“You’re a benefactor?” You don’t mean to sound so judgmental, but he doesn’t exactly look like most of the ancient relics who usually pour money into the city. If you’re being honest, he looks more like one of the musicians you’d find on the street corner playing a cover of ‘Wonderwall’ on guitar for tips.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, love, we come in all shapes and sizes.” He laughs, looking you up and down while the shock of his financial status slowly begins to wear off. “Now, tell me, was I right? Is that your painting?”

“Maybe.” You cross her arms over your chest, trying your best to resist his evident charms. “But you already knew that, being a benefactor and all; that’s cheating.”

“Cheating is such a harsh word. I merely used my astute powers of observation to put two and two together.” He casually places his hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in order to keep you near. “Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”

“I suppose not.” Your heart races at his sudden touch, the gleam in his eyes barely hiding the raging fire behind them. He’s going to be trouble, you can already tell. “Do you flirt like this with every new artist you meet?”

“Just the morbidly disturbed ones that I find deeply enchanting.” His strange compliment is oddly personal, hinting that he might know a little bit more about you than he’s currently letting on.

“You think I’m morbidly disturbed?”

He gives you a knowing look.

“Oh, it’s all over the canvas, love. It doesn’t take an expert to notice the hurried brush strokes in the busy background, the aggression with which you plastered the feminist news clippings together contrasted against the time you took to purposefully pour the viscous, slow drip of blood on it until it’s nearly spilling onto the floor.” He closes the gap between you, his hand now in your hair.

You swallow hard as he fishes around in your psyche for an accurate interpretation of your work, his proximity nearly turning your insides to quicksand as his cologne dizzies you on the spot. Good god, he’s beautiful.

“You know there are other ways of releasing all that pent up rage and aggression… all that passion.” He leans in so that his lips ghost over your cheek as it blushes against his stubble. “Although they aren’t quite as lucrative as this.”

“And what would those be?” You ask coyly, eagerly daring him to show you.

But instead of going in further for a demonstration, he leans back with a satisfied grin, as if he’s already gotten everything he wants from you at that moment. He grabs a pen from a nearby table and takes your hand, writing his phone number on your palm. “Find me when you feel like it gets to be too much, when all those emotions make you feel as if you’re absolutely about to burst.”

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #the originals #joseph morgan #klaus mikaelson fan fiction #klaus mikaelson fanfic #the vampire diaries #vampires #new orleans #nola #art #painting

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la-undercover-latina · 2 months ago

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Chokehold- Wooyoung Smut

Listen to the song that inspired this whole fic

Warnings: Dominant!Bratty Woo x Sub!Bratty! Reader, Oh so much biting, Orgasm denial (you gotta kinda squint), Oral (M receiving), Mention of sex tape, Petnames: Kitten (it’s kinda a lot 🙊) Baby girl (lemme know if I missed any). I think that’s it, if I missed anything, DM me or send me and I’ll add it

NSFW under the cut. MDNI

“I can’t wait to be back home Kitten,” your boyfriend gave you his signature smile that he knew you loved.

“Me too. You know you’re not leaving the apartment for at least a couple days right?” You asked, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Mischief that your boyfriend matched and exceeded.

“Oh I’m already planning on that Kitten. You’ve been so good, I’ve got to reward you,” he purred, and it made your body jolt with excitement and anticipation.

“Are you alone Youngie?” You asked, your voice leaking lust.

“Ye-,”

“Wooyoung, you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” San asked.

“Oh hi Y/N!” San called when he noticed you were on the other end. You had to cover up your top that you were allowing to fall off your shoulder while you were talking to Wooyoung.

“Hey Sannie! Can’t wait for your guys’ tour to be over!” You smiled, the lust starting to fade from your body.

“No, you guys are going to bed. I’m not dealing with eight whiny babies,” The guys’ manager interrupted, recognizing San’s going out outfit.

“For once, take Wooyoung’s lead. He’s just FaceTiming his girlfriend like a good boy,”

“Yeah Woo, keep being a good boy,” you teased with a wink, one that he raised a brow at.

“But I thought you didn’t like when I was a good boy,” he threw right back at you.

“Goodnight!” The guys’ manager grabbed San by the ear and pulled him out of the room.

“Sorry Kitten. Wait, did you move your shirt back?” He asked, noticing that your shirt was firmly back in place.

“Wait a second. My sister is blowing up my phone. I’ll be right back Youngie,” you told him, making sure to get an okay and an I love you before hanging up and calling your sister.

Only to realize it was a Code Red situation.

She was at a frat party and her friends bailed. So being the good big sister that you were, you texted your apology and explanation of the situation to Wooyoung.

Granted, he was bummed that his time with you got cut short, but he understood.

As both an older and younger brother, he understood that and loved that you were coming to your sister’s rescue. He’d do no less for his siblings.

It was one of his favorite things. Especially when you were tied up with work. That was usually his time to shine. Whether it was coming directly to the rescue or ordering an Uber to pick her up, Wooyoung was always down to help your family.

You really had gotten the dates wrong. Wooyoung had sent you a screenshot of his flight details, not taking the time change from America to Korea into account.

One more night… He’s coming home tomorrow…

So while you watched the endless fancams of Wooyoung and the spicy videos that you both recorded for these times, you really didn’t expect your locked door to unlock, not that you would’ve heard it.

“Youngie,” you moaned, trailing your hands down your body, closing your eyes and imagining your boyfriend's skillful hands instead of your own pleasing you, playfully pinching and slapping at your heated skin.

“Y/N?” Wooyoung called, before he heard moans coming from your bedroom. His stomach dropped until he heard his own voice. Then a smirk came over his lips.

“F-Fuck!” He heard you gasp, and that was when he dropped his suitcase and carry on, making his way to the bedroom. He silently opened the door to see you splayed out on the bed, your hands working your naked breast and barely clothed pussy.

“Youngie,” you gasped and he picked now to make his presence known.

“Right here kitten,” he smiled and your eyes shot open. Both in shock and elation.

“Youngie!” You squealed, sitting up.

“Don’t stop on my account kitten. Keep pleasuring yourself and maybe if you’re good for me, I’ll join in,” he teased and you smirked, knowing how this cat and mouse game would end: with Wooyoung pounding into you until he got tired. And you crying his name into the air. Your foot lifted before fitting against your opposite ankle, before your hands got back to work, reinvigorated by your boyfriend’s presence.

Your head folded back as you clicked play on the video again, your own moans mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin flitted from your phone to your ears.

“Youngie, I need you,” your hips ground into the mattress as your back arched.

“Be a good girl for me, and I’ll give you what you want,” he reminded you and you nodded, bringing yourself back to the edge of the cliff.

With his words and how you got yourself warmed up earlier, your orgasm hit you, making you bite your lip and head pressing into the pillows you propped up behind yourself.

“Baby?” You called weakly, your eyes opening into slits to look over at Wooyoung who started stripping. When he noticed your eyes on him, he smirked before teasing you with the ghost of his touch.

His eyes darkened before getting down to his underwear that did nothing to help the erection pressing tightly against the fabric.

“Where do you want me Kitten?” He practically purred.

“I don’t care. I just need you.” You whined.

“Damn Kitten, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already whining,” he teased before kneeling in front of the bed and grabbing your ankles, pulling you to the edge, your legs dangling free. Your hips and torso were the only pieces lying on the bed.

“My favorite dessert,” Woo purred.

“And my little kitten warmed it up for me,” he smirked before pressing teasing love bites into your plush thighs.

“Stop fucking teasing Youngie,”you grasped his silky raven locks between your fingers.

Which earned you a straight up bite to your innermost thigh, his nose brushing against the skin where your hip meets your core.

“What was that for?” You demanded.

“For hurrying a masterpiece,” he laughed, making you roll your eyes.

“Fucking brat,” you grumbled as his lips ghosted over your core and he stopped, an eyebrow raising at your words.

“Oh I’m a fucking brat?” He asked, gently blowing cool air onto your core, making your body involuntarily arch upward.

“Yeap,” you stood by your earlier statement. But what screwed you over in the best way possible, is that you were as big of a brat as him.

“Well brats don’t get what they want. Now do they?” Wooyoung asked, turning more dominant in the moment.

Yes that motherfucker was the biggest brat and switch you knew of.

“I usually get what I want,” you wink, making Wooyoung’s face flush for a moment.

He had no rebuttals, and you knew it.

“How about I give you something for your mouth to do besides talking shit,” he lifted you to your feet and standing in record time.

With how much he had to do even more intensive moves on stage made this a cakewalk.

There was a reason you used your vacation for this week. While you might have gotten the date wrong, you knew better than to expect to work for that first week- if you wanted to be coherent and not busy daydreaming or texting Woo any chance you got.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grasped your chin in one of his palms and bringing you closer to his member.

You smirked before pressing a light kiss to the tip, the faintest taste of saltiness mixed with sweetness.

“You little minx,” you teased before continuing. “You’ve been drinking pineapple juice,” you smiled deviously.

“Perfect,” you then brought him into your mouth, needing to reacquaint yourself with his size.

“Just for you Kitten. You can take it all,” Woo bucked his hips into you, making you take a little more of him as a result.

The extra length made you have to come up for air, coughing slightly. As soon as you got your breathing back under control, you went back in, pressing your palm’s delicately on the front of his thighs. You looked up to see him already watching you take him in your mouth, lust completely overtaken your boyfriend, and lust filled gazes passed between you two.

Once you took his entire length in your mouth, Woo tipped his head back in pleasure, a moan ripping its way out from his chest. He’d missed this the most during the tour.

“Want me to record?” You asked, your mind going to the same place as your boyfriend’s. He nodded and jerked himself off while you hurried to your feet, grabbing your phone from the bed and pressing record, bringing the camera to face Woo full on.

It only encouraged him while you scoped out the best spot for your phone so you could just set it and forget it. You smirked as you set your phone against your spicy novels in the small bookshelf in the room.

“And I’m the minx?” Woo asked with another raised eyebrow, noticing where you set up your phone. He had to do a double take, his smirk deepened when he read the titles. It was a set that Woo had delivered the day you had to drop him off at the airport.

“Yeah tell me what you want babe, Let me bet something on your book page. What a wicked mind with some wicked ways,” He spoke the words to an edit on TikTok of him that one of your best friends accidentally sent it to him instead of you.

Your face flushed, bringing him out from between your lips.

“Izzy sent that to you?” You asked, mock horror in your tone.

“She meant to send it to you,” he spoke, smirking at the memory of watching himself from different concerts this tour, mostly in America, over a banger song that explained your sex life to a T.

“Maybe I should do what I wanted to do for you when she sent it to me,” you purred, standing and placing your hands on his shoulders, before pushing him onto the bed, straddling his lap.

“Look at you,” he purred, running his hands over your hips while one moved to your breast. He pinched and rolled your nipple between his index and forefinger, before bringing it between his lips, nipping at the sensitive heated flesh. A moan left your lips, your head dipping back, the ends of your hair tickling your shoulders and upper back.

“Right there,” you rolled your hips into your boyfriend’s, his member brushing lightly against your core.

“You want it baby girl, don’t you,” he brought his lips to your ear, nipping at your earlobe, before ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Y-Yes please,” you moaned, craving the friction you’d missed.

“Just be patient baby girl. I’ve been waiting for this for months, I’m going to get my fill,” he bit on your shoulder, a whine leaving your lips.

“I need you,” you whimper, your core pulsing around nothing in desperation.

“Where do you need me?” He asked.

“Inside me, now!” You demanded, grasping his hips with your hands.

“What did I say about rushing a masterpiece?” Woo asked.

“I don’t care,” you shook your head.

“So impatient tonight kitten,” he chuckled before you had enough of the teasing, lining yourself up with his member, and sinking down so he could fill you up to the brim.

“Oh my god!” Both of you hissed when bottomed out into you.

“You feel so good baby girl,” he whined, bucking up to meet your tempo.

“Youngie, I’m g-gonna cum,” you whimpered, trying to speed up the tempo.

“Nah nah baby girl. I’ve got you close, why change it up?” He asked, rolling his hips, making your eyes roll back into your head, biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming as you were tossed off the edge of the cliff of pleasure.

“I’m close kitten,” Wooyoung’s thrusts became much messier the closer he got to his own release. He brought his lips to your ear, his grunts in surround sound in your ear.

“I-I’m cumming,” he warned you before painting your walls white with his seed. You melted against your boyfriend’s body as the orgasm delirium washed through your body.

“I love you so much baby girl,” Wooyoung separated from you, going to go get the baby wipes from the bathroom while you laid on the bed, your limbs still tingly from the first of many orgasms to come while he was home.

“Fucking TikTok,” you chuckled when Woo came back into the room.

“What’s so funny Kitten?”

“This all started because of that TikTok,” you laughed softly and he shut his mouth with a upward tilt to his plump lips.

“What? That’s what got you all needy?” he laughed and walked to the bed to clean you both up.

“Yeah pretty much,” you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Taglist: @the-princess-of-mischief-1998 @multidreams-and-desires @faeratil

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez hard hours #wooyoung hard hours

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hadesisqueer · 4 months ago

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It's been a long time since I read Fire and Blood and the rest of the ASOIAF books (been meaning to reread them because I don't remember that much of them tbh, I read ADWD like seven years ago) and I'm not keeping up with the new show, but every time I see stuff about Rhaenyra and Jace I remember once again why I disliked Jon's legitimacy in the show. It's not just because even if Rhaegar married Lyanna that marriage would not have seen valid to anyone given the guy was already married and had two children with Elia Martell. It's because it's kind of poetic.

Rhaenyra was the legitimate heir to the throne. Her father had said so, and kept saying so over and over again, and with all her flaws, she was a better option than her brother. Jacaerys was also a great prince, clearly with excellent diplomatic skills —I doubt Cregan Stark would have sworn to him if he didn't see something in him—, and would have probably made a great king. But neither of them were allowed to actually be queen or king. Because Rhaenyra was a woman. And Jace was a bastard. No matter that his mother is the heir and not the other way around, no matter that Laenor knew and didn't care and gave him and Luke and Joffrey his name and treated them as his own, no matter that Corlys and Rhaenys also treated them as their grandchildren and recognized him as Velaryons. He would always be seen as a bastard even if he would have made a better king than his uncle. Just like his mother, even if she was better than Aegon II and was named heir by her father was also still seen as an illegitimate heir because she was a woman.

So, yes. I believe that if Jon had been kept a bastard, it would have been better. The Dance of Dragons was the start of the downfall of the Targaryens. The Targaryens tore each other apart because of power and because people could not just let a girl and a bastard boy rule. So I think it'd be ironic and poetic that the last scions of House Targaryen were a girl and a bastard boy.

Also sorry, but the show was stupid for making people immediately believe and accept that Jon was Rhaegar's son and the heir to the throne just like that, not just because the marriage to Lyanna would not have seen illegitimate. If I recall in the book you got Young Griff who has the classic Targaryen Valyrian looks and was supposedly raised to rule and was the perfect prince-- and yet he needs to marry Daenerys. Not only because she's the one with actual armies and dragons, but because without her, his claim is weaker than the Golden Company in the show. Because no matter what he says, he can't actually prove he really is Aegon VI (he probably isn't, I still think he's a Blackfyre). And now, you're telling me that in the show, people immediately believe that Jon is Rhaegar's legitimate son and heir to the throne because *checks* his best friend and his brother said so? Are you serious? Lmao.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #young griff

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linkemon · 1 year ago

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Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Malleus Draconia, Idia Shroud and Kalim Al-Asim.

Malleus Draconia

• Malleus' confession of feelings involved a number of obstacles and misunderstandings, although happily resolved.

• He wrote about you many times in letters to his grandmother. And although it made him realize the fragility of relationships with humans, grandma was also very happy knowing that her grandson had experienced such deep love. She really wanted to meet you, even though you didn't know it at the time.

• Draconia's biggest fear and block from telling you how he felt was the fear of loss. In various aspects of it. He was aware that he would certainly outlive you, and from time to time the thought of you returning to the world you came from floated in the back of his mind. In addition, you were his first real friend, not counting the people who were with him every day. Rejection could cost him the entire relationship.

One most ordinary night, he simply realized that the risk was worth trying to tell you how he felt.

• Malleus sprang into action with eager vigour. Unfortunately, these efforts were somewhat misdirected. It took Lilia to clearly explain to him that the customs adopted among fae do not necessarily translate to humans. He was forced to do this, as it were, because after you threw away his family generational necklace, the clouds over Diasomnia were darkening day by day and a disastrous downpour with lightning was brewing.

Meanwhile, you were simply afraid that Grim would destroy such a valuable and expensive gift. You had absolutely no idea of the additional meaning it carried.

• The second attempt was definitely more successful. Malleus gave you the rose seeds he grew in Briar Valley. Planted in Ramshackle, with his magic they turned into a field of red flowers. Combined with the moonlight and the fireflies dancing around you, it created a wonderful atmosphere that you will remember for a long time.

It was then that the fae confessed to you that he had been smitten with you from the very beginning but it was your friendship, so precious to him, that turned into something more. The fact that he knelt down in front of you and promised to give you everything you wanted made you think for a moment that he was going to propose to you. Initially, that's what he planned, but Lilia talked him out of it...

Idia Shroud

• It's not that Idia didn't know what love was. He had played so many otome games that while he wasn't an expert, he certainly wasn't a noob. However, without Ortho's help, he would not have correctly recognized its signs in real life.

• He started by avoiding you. The rapid heartbeat and red tips of his hair were becoming more and more frequent and it was difficult for him to control them. So he found the best solution he could come up with, which was to lock himself in his room. He avoided you as much as he could all over campus.

• His brother, although he quickly understood through data analysis what was happening to him, did not think it was good to raise the topic too early. Initially, he wanted to give Idia time. Time was clearly running out because the robot, seeing you once again look sadly at the tablet and gave it a wide berth, decided to act. He prepared a series of tests to convince your older brother that you reciprocate his feelings. Of course, Shroud hid under the blanket, mumbled to be left alone. Although he pretended to be uninterested, the speech actually sparked hope in him.

Maybe this time he wasn't a total knight nerd and side hero? Maybe he could play the lead role for once?

• He did what he does best. He designed a program that allowed him to send a request if you wanted to be his girlfriend. At worst, he was going to pretend it was a mistake.

When he saw that instead of checking the tick box, you had come to Ignihyde, he immediately paled. You had to knock on the door, telling him that you wouldn't leave until he explained to you what was actually going on and how this confession related to his constant avoidance of you.

Idia just stuck his head out of the crack, stammered and said that he was like the worst NPC you've ever seen but if you let him have some time, maybe he'll become a main character worthy of you.

Kalim Al-Asim

• Friendzone should be his middle name. From the beginning of your relationship, he sent you signals that you considered romantic. Until you started spending more time with him around others and you found out that Kalim treated them the same way he treated you. That's when everything started to get confusing for you.

• When you tried to tell him that you liked him very much, he replied that he liked you too. When you said more, he said more, more. And when you said he was more than a friend, he said you were his best friend. He did all this with such a wide smile on his face that you didn't have the heart to explain to him the true meaning of your statements. You knew the sincerity of his words. Few people in the NRC matched him in truthfulness. But it was incredibly frustrating for you.

• Grim knew exactly what was happening, seeing your hearty eyes every time you left the desert dormitory. He calculated in his head how many cans of tuna he would get if you got together with the prefect of Scarabia. This prompted him to not-so-subtly blurt out to Kalim that you were romantically interested in him. In return, he received a promise of a container of fish delicacies.

• The boy was in great shock but in a positive way. He didn't know what to do with all his joy, so he grabbed the first flowers in a vase he had at hand and ran towards the flying carpet. You weren't expecting him at all in the evening, dressed in your pajamas and ready to go to bed. He hugged you so tightly that he almost knocked you over and that was before he even remembered that he hadn't told you why he actually came...

#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #kalim x reader #idia x reader #malleus draconia #kalim al asim #idia shroud #headcanons

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angelcake10023 · 2 months ago

Note

so at the end Tang kinda adopts curious MK and they are a happy family. But why would Wukong allow someone else to raise MK ? Or is Wukogn still present in the kids life ? Or maybe even happy he doesn’t have the responsibility anymore ?

Wukong was willing to take Mk off Tang’s hands at first because Tang seemed like he was cracking under the pressure of taking care of him. He didn’t really know what he was gonna do with him, but was willing to do it as he’d been watching them for a while.

However after he gets captured by SQ and then rescued by the trio, he recognizes Tang is pretty tough for a human and seems to really care about MK. And since Tang seems to want the kid back he makes no objections, but he does stick around as the old brother mentor : )

#curious mk #curious george au #lmk au #expedition au #q&a #thanks for the question!

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cinnbar-bun · 10 months ago

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The Heartless Giant Pt. 2

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/n: the second part of my contribution the Storyteller AU!

Summary: After a blowout with your brothers, you fulfill your promise to the “giant”. Perhaps there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Notes: GN!Reader, Prisoner!Crocodile (for my Impel Down Croc lovers), implied age gap, Reader is an adult but age is not specified, violence, bad siblings, protective Crocodile, "falling for my father's enemy" teehee

Part 1 here! AO3 link here!

Taglist: @gingernut1314

You ascended up the many levels of the dungeon silently, careful to not allow yourself to be caught going back to your room. You glanced around the hallways and sprinted back to your room, happy to finally be back in the warmth of your private space. Just as you were about to go back to sleep, you heard many voices mumbling and arguing in hushed whispers in the room next to you.

“-do you know what he’ll do?”

“We’re toast. We’ll die.”

“Sh-shut up! Maybe we can go back tomorrow and-”

“Are you crazy?!”

You frowned as you recognized the panicked voices of your older brothers. You removed yourself from your bed and knocked on the door. They gasped and stayed silent, refusing to make a move or even let a sound out. You rolled your eyes and knocked again.

“It’s me, (Y/n). Open the door.”

Within an instant, the door flung open and you were immediately wrapped in the many arms of your three brothers.

“Oh my god- oh my… yer alive!”

“What the hell?”

“Don’t do that again!”

You were taken aback by their worry, removing their hands off of you as you walked into the room and shut the door behind you.

“We need to talk,” you stated, crossing your arms.

Your brothers awkwardly stood around you, regretful and apologetic for their behavior.

“Listen, we’re-”

“I can’t you believe you guys,” you cut the first off. “You guys used me as bait and left me to die alone.”

They clamp their mouths shut at your stern and blunt statement. There was nothing to argue there. They were cowardly and left you. It was only a miracle that the man in the cell held some mercy for you and spared you when he did.

All of you knew that he chose not to kill you tonight. Your third brother held his bandaged hand and winced. You four were lucky to be left alive and in one piece.

“Okay, we admit that,” the second begins. “We were just… playing around.”

“Playing around? Slamming me against the bars? Throwing rocks at him? Are you daft?” You raise your voice at them. The anger and betrayal you felt was bubbling to the surface now. “The fact that he was the one to protect me should tell you everything about this situation!”

“Oh, you’re defending the beast now?” The third matched your tone. “Do you think he really felt bad for you?”

“Considering how you fools were acting, I can only imagine what he felt!” You yell back. “You were close to getting us all killed!”

“He’s a criminal! A stupid ogre! Why are you considering his feelings when he tried to kill us all back then?” The first shouted over you.

“Because at least he learned!” You rage. The volume of your voice catches your brothers off-guard as they freeze in place, their eyes wide and shocked. You clench your fist and shake with an anger you have never felt so strongly until now. “At least he protected me! At least he didn’t throw me to the bars and try to use me as bait or a meat shield! At least he talked to me after and didn’t ignore my cries!”

“Ya think that monster has learned? Ya weren’t there. Ya weren’t there for what he did and what he’s done to us. Father had to have the whole army to even make a scratch on that man. He’s not human. He not’s man. He’s a damn beast,” the second spat.

“You say that, but he was the only one with any humanity in him tonight. What would you have done if he really killed me? Would you tell father the truth about what you did, or would you lie?”

Your brothers remained silent as their eyes flicked between the floor and themselves. The righteous fury within you began to dim as you recognized how low your brothers could sink.

“You won’t even deny it?” You weakly ask. “You wouldn’t admit what you did? You wouldn’t even save me?”

“W-we can try next time-”

“When is next time? When I am dead? When it is too late?” Your eyes begin to water as your voice breaks. The eldest looks down until he steps forward and attempts to embrace you. You shake your head and push him away, refusing to look at them. “No… no, don’t do that. Don’t bother.”

“Listen, we are trying,” he says. “We messed up, badly. We know you probably can never forgive us, but we do love you. We love you a lot… we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“If I can’t even rely on you to defend me in a situation like that, then how do you expect me to trust you?”

The room turned silent, your brothers refusing to look at you as they fidgeted with their fingers or tugged on their pajamas. You huffed and turned away.

“Consider this conversation over. Don’t ever ask another thing from me again,” you spat, retreating back to your room. The heavy aching in your heart finally peaked, and you silently cried into your pillows as your brothers were quietly murmuring their arguments. How could you ever trust them again, knowing what they did to incite the man below? Knowing they would gladly and easily throw you away for their cruel jokes, knowing they would lie to cover up their mistakes?

You wished you could go back in time, back to the day the man nearly pillaged your kingdom. Back to that day to meet him, to understand what it was your brothers thought and felt. Maybe, just maybe, you could have done something for him in order to get him to stop.

But you could not. You know you never could. You could never undo the past. And even if you could, the valuable knowledge you gained from your traveling was a better use of your skills and time. Was that man really worth risking everything for?

Your mind conjured images of him. Those dark eyes… the gold hook… the way the cold metal of that hook felt against your neck as his large hand grasped you like a predator.

He could have killed you.

Could have ended your life before you could even register it.

The thought terrifies you, sends shivers down your body, before you remember how he was careful to never let the sharp tip hurt you. For what reason, you didn’t know. You were the child of the man who imprisoned him in that cell, he would easily have a number of reasons to kill you.

But instead, he held you, protected you, threatened them off. Why?

You sighed and try to brush the man out of your mind. You didn’t need to let your brain conjure up more thoughts and worries right now. You would repay the favor to him when you awoke later, at the very least. It brought you some semblance of comfort after the awful fight you had with your brothers.

—————

It was almost noon when you rose from your bed. Very uncharacteristic of your usual behavior, seeing as you were the one who was often the most prompt and presentable of your siblings. When you went downstairs to eat, you found your brothers at the table. You refused to greet them as you sat in your usual spot, placing your food on your plate.

“Hey, (Y/n),” the second began, whispering to not get the attention of the servants around you. You ignored him, biting into your food as they tried to get your attention.

“Just leave it…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake-” they hissed under their breath until the large doors to the room swung open, revealing your father. He strode over gracefully, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“Father,” you greeted, and your brothers awkwardly followed after. Your father tilted his head back in acknowledgement while he had his lunch served to him.

“I admit, I was surprised to see you four up this late,” he begins, taking a sip of the drink a maid just poured for him. “Might I inquire what you all were doing?”

“Reading,” you answer quickly.

“Training,” the first brother replies.

“Polishing my weaponry,” the second says.

“Writing,” the third states, carelessly showing off his bandaged hand. Your father raises a brow.

“Why is your hand wrapped?” The third brother sits up straight, stiff as a board.

“Oh, from, uh, you know, training.”

“You just said you were writing,” your father humorlessly corrects.

“The pen is mightier than the sword!” Your brother laughs, trying to continue the lie.

Your father nods, not believing a word but not wanting to continue with this conversation.

“Be as it may, I’m happy you are all here right now,” the king says.

You glance at your brothers and notice they look rather disheveled. The first has bloodshot eyes, nodding along while frequently yawning. The second is refusing to look at anywhere but his plate, picking his food he hardly made a dent in. The third, meanwhile, is nervously fidgeting around.

You huff, remembering that you’re still angry with them and continue to eat. Your father tries to continue the conversation, but it’s a blur for you until you leave.

You begin to walk out of the dining room while your brothers jog up to you.

“(Y/n), please wait-” they begin, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not talking about this further,” you reply harshly. “Just stop pestering me!”

“Come on, we really do feel terrible and-”

“And? I feel terrible, too!” You glare at them and slam your door shut in front of them.

Let me just give him his blanket…

You remembered the promise you made last night and quickly open your large closet. Inside are various blankets, some of which have not been used in a long time.

“I don’t think they’d notice if these were gone…” you mumble as you grab one and fold it in your arms. It’s rather large for you, but considering how big the man in the cell is, it’d probably not be enough. You can’t take more now, though, that would be too suspicious.

You peer out the door and notice the coast is clear, save for a few random maids. Finally, you can see the man again. You do your best to walk normally, not wanting to draw further to attention to yourself. There’s a guard patrolling the area in front of the cellars, and you run up to him.

“Good afternoon. One of the maids thought they someone suspicious outside. If you could please handle the matter, I would be grateful,” you ask politely. The guard is surprised but nods and gets up to scour the area. You sigh in relief that there wouldn’t be anymore distractions and run down the stairs of the dungeons, all the way to the lowest level.

Like last time, the cold air of the dungeon immediately prickles your skin.

“You’d think I learn,” you comment until you slow down your steps as you approach the giant.

His back is toward the bars and he doesn’t flinch as he hears your footsteps.

“Excuse me,” you begin, finding the previous courage you had melting away as you realize just what you were doing. “I came back as promised.”

At the sound of your voice, he cranes his neck up and sits upright. You hear a small chuckle until he ushers you over with a finger.

“So, you really came back, huh?” He snarkily asked.

“I did. I made a promise and I intended to keep it.”

“You do understand what that looks like, right?” His voice returns to its normal, drab tone as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t care. You… you did me a favor, and it is my duty to repay it,” you reply sternly. The chains clank and rustle as the man stands up, showcasing his large frame. He slowly turns around to face you, and those dark eyes of his bore into yours.

There is no light in them despite the smirk on his face. They are empty, hollow, and lifeless eyes.

“How sweet of you, your highness,” he says in a saccharine tone.

“You’re mocking me,” you cut to the chase.

“Oh, am I? Perhaps, your highness. I don’t get many visitors here, let alone such a pretty relic of the royal family,” he mocks. “You can’t really blame me for not knowing how to talk to you properly. I’m afraid manners are something I haven’t learned.”

“You can express your appreciation more sincerely next time,” you huff as you hold out the blanket to him, careful to keep your arms stretched in order to create some distance between you and him.

He snickers at your apprehensive behavior and makes sure to use his golden hook to grab the blanket from you. He is careful to not touch your hand with the weapon as he brings it inside his cell.

“My, my, what a lovely blanket. Cashmere?” He jokes. You take a step back and watch as drapes the blanket across his shoulders, making his shadow cover even more of you. “I appreciate it, your highness. Was that polite enough for you?”

“It was a start,” you admit, not liking the way he made everything sound so sarcastic and insincere.

“You may go now,” he dismisses you.

A part of you is eager to run away, but the more you watch him stretch his limbs and roll his shoulders, the more curious you get.

“Why did you not kill me yesterday?” You ask.

“This again? I’m starting to think you are begging for death,” he replies.

“No, you just… you saved me, yet it’s obvious you despise me.”

“Despise you? Now why would you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Nothing you say is ever serious. You’re obviously toying with me.”

“Toy with you? No, no, no, I’m not toying with you-” in an instant, he reaches forward and tilts your chin up with his hook. You gasp as you’re pulled closer to him against the bars and he gazes down with a strange emotion in his eyes that you cannot pinpoint. “This is toying with you. Your highness, I don’t hate you. I could never.”

“And why is that?” You quietly ask, your eyes glancing down to his hook every few seconds.

“You’re far too intelligent, far too competent for the ones I really despise,” he coos. “I may seem like a lowly prisoner now, but once upon a time, I was a pirate with a taste for the finer things in life. I know worth when I see it.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your face heat up from his words. You shove yourself off his hook and step back. “What gives you the right to say such a thing?”

“What? Never had a man tell you the truth? Never had anyone appreciate you correctly?”

“That’s none of your concern!” You yell, embarrassed that you were enjoying his praise.

“Oh, I think I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

“Just, ugh-!” You growl in frustration.

“Poor, little, royal- they don’t really care you, do they? The way those ignorant fools ran away with their tails between their legs, I’m sure they didn’t care what it cost, so long as they escaped.”

“That’s not true, they’re just-”

“Tell me, your highness, do they always leave you behind?” You bite your lip and shake your head.

“N-no, not always, it’s just-”

“They always make you do the work, don’t they?” He continued.

“Well…”

“And they never are really thankful for you, are they? You’re just like a little toy they can discard whenever they choose. Let me tell you something,” he leans closer to you. “You’re too good for them. And they know that, so they keep trying to get you to lower yourself.”

Your taken aback by his rather frank assessment of your relationship with your brothers.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t need them. You can do much better. Have some pride, will you? I hate seeing wasted potential,” his face contorts into one of disgust. “Especially for a bunch of imbeciles like that? Is that who you’re trying to impress?”

He wastes no time getting to the heart of the matter, and you sigh.

“Those are my brothers. I can’t do anything about that.”

“You can and you should. Fools like them are a dime a dozen. The fact you’re even entertaining the notion you must keep them around is sickening. The men I met yesterday are the ones who are supposed to run this kingdom before you?”

Your hands drop to your sides as he spells it out for you.

“I despise them,” he smiles, but there is nothing humorous about what he says or feels about the situation. “Idiots like that disgust me. I hate the weak, the talentless, the ineffective, more than anything.” His words are laced with venom, every sentence making you freeze. “Do you understand now what I mean? Weakness like what they showed yesterday- that is sin.”

“I’m not strong, either,” you reject.

“Physically, you’re not. But you have something they don’t. You have a brain in there. You have commitment. That’s infinitely more important than being a brute or a coward.” He blows a few strands of his loose hair from out of his face. “Use your brain and stop depending on them.”

He turns around and waves his right hand.

“Well, I’ve said enough. You don’t need to take my word for it, after all, I’m just a beat down prisoner.”

Your face softens as you watch him take a seat, facing the wall again. You hesitate for a moment before you step closer.

“What is your name?” You ask curiously.

“Hm? Why would you ask for the name of a ‘monster’ like me? Something like that is better left out of your mouth.”

“Answer me.”

“Sorry, your highness, I am a business man at heart. I don’t talk without some kind of deal.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Heh, your eagerness is rather endearing, so I’ll be easy on you this time,” he chuckles. “Give me a cigar. Not a cheap one, mind you. I want something your father would be happy to light.”

“A cigar? That’s it?”

“I’m a simple man, your highness. I miss the comfort of such simple pleasures.”

“A cigar, for your name?”

“That is all. Now go, you’ve wasted enough time down here. Don’t want your dear old dad to get suspicious of you, do you?”

“N-no, I don’t.”

“Good. Run along, your highness.”

You don’t need any more reminders as you turn your heel and run up the stairs as quick as you can. Your heart is pounding hard and fast in your chest, and despite the icy chill in this dungeon, your face still feels rather warm.

Just a cigar, huh?

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #x reader #reader insert #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile #crocodile one piece #heartless giant #the heartless giant

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the-daydreaming-show · 4 months ago

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(I'm in love with the idea that) Maglor wandered Middle-earth so long that he became the last of the elves on the continent, refusing to die but unable to sail west, and one day he fainted on the beach. It is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last (?), whether due to lack of sleep, dehydration, hunger, or any of the torments that followed him. But when he gets up, he is not on the beach, he is in a cabin in the woods. He quickly deduces which woman of the race of men took pity on him and cared for him in his inconvenience.

Maglor wants nothing more than to return to his self-inflicted exile, to hate himself, and to be nothing more than a scrutiny of his own life, but he is very weak. The woman has placed heavy blankets over him, which are warm and comfortable, so before realizing it, he returns to unconsciousness. He feels from time to time that she feeds him liquid meals and takes care of his badly injured hand, whose pain is already chronic. Maglor doesn't know how long it took him to be able to get out of bed on his own, but it's been a while, and he's a gentleman at the end of the day. His mother raised him well despite all the mistakes he made by choice, but she taught him and his brothers how to treat a lady, regardless of her race.

Maglor helps the women tend to her gardens, makes sure her house is well taken care of while she works (in a job she doesn't talk about directly, is ambiguous about its specifications, and never really says what it is even though he directly asks a couple of times after several weeks of taking care of his voice at his request), and makes sure to be as helpful as possible. He doesn't plan to stay, he's simply staying to settle a debt that an innocent woman shouldn't have created with a relative killer like him. So he only wanted to free her from her presence as soon as possible once Maglor made up for the time she spent taking care of and the resources she used in taking care of him.

He doesn't leave. He stayed. The days pass. And although Maglor feels that his debt to her is paid, since his garden is more beautiful than ever, and he made sure that the house was in perfect condition, to the point that he has had to really look for things to do lately. He doesn't want to leave.

He married once, but she did not follow him to Beleriand. Still, despite the time, he recognizes the feeling that begins to brew in his fea and in his heart with every minute he spends with that woman. One day, when he helps her with the garden, they end up in a closer position than they should, their hands touching without gloves, and he almost loses his breath. There, he decided that he was leaving.

He loved her enough, his sweet human, who had gone out to help a fainted and desolate stranger on the beaches without expecting anything in return, to understand that if he didn't leave her now, he would never leave her. He couldn't allow his own condemnation to affect her.

(Selfishly, Maglor also knew that he would not want to live beyond the day she joined death, which was the destiny of his race. And he did not believe he deserved the definitive end that was death, he was sure that the empty would not even be enough empty for him and his actions.)

The woman gently tries to convince him to stay, not too hard, as she seems resigned to the fate of him leaving, but she tries. Maeglo looks the same, smiling sadly at him, leaving the cabin behind with his harp on his back and heading towards where the sea should be.

But Maglor can't get to the beach. She can't even get out of the woods. He walks and walks, but three times he is taken back to the cabin, which remains intact but empty. He tries to the point of desperation, but he can't seem to get out. The last time he walks to the cabin, after days of trying to get out of the woods, the woman is waiting for him standing in front of the cabin, and she seems sad and embarrassed, but firm and ready for the conversation to come.

“What are you?” Maglor asks, straight to the point of the conversation, desperate to know what he had gotten himself into.

“I didn't want you to find out like this, I swear-”, the woman tries to explain with shame and desperateness to justify her lies.

“Answer me,” Maglor demands. The woman sighs shakily, but she finally answers.

“I have many names, in all languages and for all races. But your people call me the Gift of Ilúvatar.”

Maglor could have fallen dead right there from fright and shock. Although he could potentially already be dead, he realized that the woman who had won her old and painful heart was nothing less than death itself.

He had fallen in love with the dead.

What does this mean?

How could this end for them?

Why did she lie to him?

Was he dead? Or was he kidnapped in some estrage way?

Did she follow the order of the Valar? Or Maybe of Eru himself?

Does she love him back?

That was really the only question he care about, as crazy as it may be.

#silmarillion #silmarillion headcanon #silmarillion x reader #maglor #maglor headcanons #maglor x reader #ella talks #feanorians #silm headcanons #sons of feanor #silm fic #silm au #the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion headcanons #I could say a lot more about this #let me live in my delusions

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one-night-story · 10 months ago

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I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You (Jack Hughes)

a/n: I wanted to get this not under the wire, but I can't help but feel like it a little? Which, sorry about that. this is for @writingonleaves by way of @wyattjohnston 's annual winter fic exchange! I hope you enjoy it! this was as always a fun challenge to write. title is from "We Should Be Friends" by Josh Ramsay, which is v cute. (also it's so long oh jeez)

There’s probably a certain age when you’re fairly certain you’re “too old” to be waking up on strangers couches with little memory of A) who’s couch you ended up on and B) how exactly you got there.

I don’t think I’ve quite hit that age yet, so I think I’m in the clear for the understandable confusion I woke up with as the morning sun streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows.

Shit, not only was I in an unfamiliar apartment, whoever was renting the place was clearly richer than my blood.

Good news: my phone was on the coffee table and attached to a charger, so whoever I’d crashed with was a benevolent host, which boded well for my continued situation. I checked my texts and it seems last night me had been coherent and just exhausted, seeing as I remembered to text my roommate that I wasn’t coming home saying I was crashing “with friends” and that I’d text her when I got back on campus.

Huh, promising.

It at least meant she wouldn’t send out a search party consisting of our friend group, their friends, and the National Guard. All incredibly good things for my continued health and existence.

Now, to figure out who’s apartment I’d just woken up in.

Carefully, I stretched out my legs and shifted the blankets onto my lap when I realized I at the very least had the sense to not try and sleep in jeans but had left my “nice enough to go out” t-shirt on, and scanned the area. A couple of photos on the wall of a relatively decent sized family, siblings at the bare minimum as they popped up in several photos. Rich, but a bachelor as no one with any interior design sense had popped by to huck a colored throw pillow into the mix, and that was assuming their lease didn’t allow for wall color changes.

Honestly, I was coming up empty.

None of my friends were this rich, hell if they were I feel like it would’ve come up way sooner, not to mention why the hell would they bother commuting to campus when they probably could leverage online classes and still come out with a degree.

I was just about to fashion enough of a blanket skirt to at least try and find my pants so I could start rifling through a mail stack when there was creaking coming from down the hall. Well, maybe I’d have an answer soon enough. I readjusted the blanket a little so I could look over from where I thought the creaking was coming from and was greeted by… okay calling it a familiar face might’ve been a stretch, but so would the text to my roommate saying I was staying with a friend, so somehow that was two birds with one stone.

I did recognize him, which was an improvement over my worst fear, he was a friend of a friend of a brother of a friend. Which put me at four degrees of separation, and raised my “why the fuck did I crash here” hackles, but the fact that I was on a couch and not in someone’s bed felt safe, even if it wasn’t all there yet.

He didn’t seem to be fully coherent yet, as he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his, admittedly very pretty, hair so I tried to hold back a large laugh when he startled at seeing me sitting on his couch.

“Hi,” I said with a sheepish wave. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” I remarked. What I really needed to do was find out where the hell half-dead me had hucked my pants so I could tug them back on and then make a beeline to the nearest train station to get home.

“‘S fine, just… uh… shit, there’s no like… good way of asking this,” he mulled over.

“It’s okay, I don’t quite remember your name either,” I said, saving him the embarrassment. He laughed, and it was goofy and light, which was way too endearing for… shit did that microwave clock say 9:30 in the morning? I couldn’t help but join in with a chuckle of my own.

“Oh thank god,” he said once he stopped most of the laughter, “I didn’t want to seem like a complete asshole, but also there was no way I was going to remember it after last night.” He added.

“Yeah, I don’t remember much either, and I don’t even think I drank that much?” I said with just a dash of question in my tone, he nodded once.

“You didn’t, but I think you mentioned that you didn’t want to risk taking the train back so late.” He said. “I offered to let you crash here when you refused to let someone pay for a hotel.”

Yeah, that sure did sound like me.

“Well, thank you, I’m Sadie,” I said, and as soon as I did, he brightened like he suddenly did remember and just needed the metaphorical kick in the brainstem.

“Yes! Okay, see I thought it’d be in there,” he said with another chuckle. “I usually at least try to learn the names of the girls I bring home.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he chose to phrase it and even more when he very clearly winced realizing how it sounded.

“We’ll chop it up to “lack of coffee” and call no hard feelings, sound fair?” I proposed as an even solution to our silly little predicament.

“Fair, I’m Jack by the way.” he said as he came over to the couch and offered up his hand. “Nice to actually meet you Sadie,” he said.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said with a chuckle as I shook his hand with a bit of teasing vigor.

“Can I at least offer you breakfast before you sneak out in the middle of the morning?” He asked while still holding onto my hand. I thought it over, and remembered the time, and figured that… yeah I could probably stand to be held up for coffee and a minimal breakfast before jumping on the train.

“Yeah, if it’s not —“

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack was quick to cut me off. He let go of my hand and wandered back over to the kitchen and I was quick to try and figure out where the hell I’d put my pants so I wasn’t having to talk across the apartment and be perceived as rude on top of whatever else one could make assumptions about a girl who’d crashed on the couch of a guy she barely knew. After being assured that the blanket was carefully tucked around me I leaned down to check under the couch and was relieved when I found them sticking out. I carefully maneuvered my body so that I could reach under the couch, grab them and carefully bend back up onto the couch so I could put them on under the blanket. When I eventually sat back up and stood. Jack was looking at me with a look of bemusement.

“Were you…”

“No, last night me wanted to not sleep in jeans. So I must’ve haphazardly hucked them off.”

“And you managed to get them on… without getting up from under the blanket?”

“Old trick from summer camp. Trust me, you haven’t even seen half of it.” I could get dressed pretty entirely without getting up from under the covers. When Jack still looked amused I chuckled and finished walking over to where he was in the kitchen. “What? Upstate New York gets cold in the morning in the summer.” I remarked. Jack fully laughed and again, I couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh I know, I guess I’m just used to living in houses with heating too.” He said. I simply shrugged, low tech summer camps, what could you do? I watched as Jack maneuvered around his kitchen to get the coffee going from the cautious spot of his breakfast bar, trying to not take up too much space or get in the way, no one likes multiple people in a kitchen at once, it was practically a fact. “I only have milk and sugar, I hope that’s okay?”

“It’ll be fine, I’m hardly in a position to be picky,” I said as I tried to focus on something that wasn’t the way Jack’s hair was falling that made him seem… softer? than just my brain’s logical, knee jerk reaction of him being “just some guy”. I mean, of all the people that my sleep addled brain could remember, I definitely remember that Jack was one of the better looking ones. I could feel my fingers wanting to pick at my nails and the social morays of it all was pretty much the only thing holding me back from doing so. I wanted to say something, anything, pretend for one morning that I was good at socializing. The fact that I’d managed to get through last night with enough grace and charm that I had managed to score a place to crash after the friend of a friend I came with ditched me to hook up with on of the myriad of white boys that were there that night meant this morning I was praying I had enough left to at least make it through coffee.

Jack set the Keurig off to do its thing and rifled through the cupboards to try and find… something. Honestly, while I was hoping for cereal, I would’ve settled for toast, when I heard him curse someone under his breath and went over to the fridge.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Roommate eat you out of house and home?” I said taking a shot in the dark. Jack looked over, remembering he was making coffee for two and gave me a look that read as though I’d gotten it in one. He padded back over to the breakfast bar and leaned in conspiratorially, something I couldn’t help but meet him halfway about.

“So… I might’ve lied about breakfast. My brother was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday after practice and it looks like he forgot.” I chuckled and opened my mouth to assure him that really, it was fine, thanks for even offering, I’ll just go; but he pressed on, “there’s a spot around the corner that does… probably better than I ever could and that includes the coffee. If you want, I could… take you there?” He proposed.

On the one hand, that was incredibly sweet and his smile was very much continuing my brain’s belief of him being endearing. Not to mention I love a good brunch spot as much as the next girly and that included a good little diner.

On the other hand, I felt gross being in yesterday’s clothes and I didn’t want to impede Jack’s ability to get on with his day. That, and the somewhat social expectation to turn down anything offered with you without an obvious way to pay back. We weren’t really friends, and we weren’t dating, so what the hell could I even do? My obvious gut reaction was to reject it, to chop it up to the fact that really, he was just being polite and there was no real reason to go with him. But then I snuck another glance at him, a little open and earnest and maybe the offer was just a genuine “let me be a good host in spite of the fact that my roommate is making that a challenge.”

“One condition,” I said and Jack nodded, “you mind if I borrow your shower? I feel super gross,” I said and Jack immediately nodded.

“Yeah, course, I’ll get you a new shirt if ya need.” He was quick to add. I smiled and thanked him as he pointed me toward where the bathroom was. It was very clear a bachelor’s bathroom, but at least they had more than one bottle of soap. So… small victories.

I was quick to wash up and thankful for the t-shirt left precariously balancing on the bathroom island that fully suggested it’d been put there without someone looking. Changing was just as fast and I came back out feeling a little less like death. I grabbed my phone and my bag from the end of the couch (ungracefully shoving my t-shirt from last night in) and met Jack where he was by the door.

The trip to ground level was mostly quiet, with both of us seemingly trying to pick and choose what to say about all of this. I didn’t want to put any sort of anything on it, hell, I was prepared to pay should need be and blow the rest of my fun money budget for the month.

And Jack hadn’t been lying when he said the place had been around the corner as, sure enough, the glass faced front of a quaint brunch place, Edison light bulbs and all, was in front of us. For a late Saturday morning, it wasn’t horrendous by any means. I predicted a twenty minute wait without reservations, but I was willing to be surprised. Jack got the door for me and I muttered a quiet thank you as we walked in. The front area was small so I suspected that this was probably a strict “reservation or get lucky on a walk in” place. I snuck a glance at Jack, but he didn’t seem to be fazed by any of it as he made his way over to the hostess and they had a quick exchange before menus were being grabbed and we were being led to a quiet little back booth, out of sight of the main windows. The hostess gave her usual spiel about the menus and our waiter being over in a few and we both thanked her for her time. As she left I finally looked over at Jack.

“What?”

“Does the owner owe you money or something?”

“No, but he is a fan,” he said. That made me tilt my head slightly but I was quick to shake it off. “Relax, I made reservations while you were showering. Got lucky that they had a last minute cancellation.” He said. Yeah, that seemed reasonable all things considered, so I let the topic drop and gave the menu a scan. There wasn’t a lot that didn’t appeal to me, so that was a good sign.

“Got any recommendations?” I asked as Jack fidgeted with his fork.

“Oh, uh… the pancakes are pretty killer. And my brother swears by their waffles. But pretty much everything’s good.” He said. I nodded and adjusted my own silverware as our waiter came over and poured water. While I was of the firm belief that brunch didn’t count as brunch without mimosas, I just ordered coffee with some of their fancier fixings. We asked for a bit more time with the menus and our waiter agreed to come back with the coffee. We fell into a silence, not quite awkward but nowhere near comfortable, and I settled on biting the bullet first.

“So why New Jersey?” I asked.

“Why New Jersey?”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like you’re from around here so why’d you move to New Jersey?”

“Work,” he answered simply. My memory of the previous night was still a swirling mess of exhaustion and bright lights and a smidge too much noise, but I think I remembered that those at the table who hadn’t been with my acquaintance group were coworkers. Must be a tight knit workplace. “You?”

“School, got a scholarship.”

“What for?”

“Creative writing, not the flashiest of degrees, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” I replied.

“Working on the next Great American Novel, then?” He asked and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, maybe. Right now I’m fighting to try and keep my voice while meeting every professors’ wildly different expectations. It’s a… hassle.” I said. The conversation spiraled from there, breaking to order brunch, but otherwise swapping stories about his family and my schooling. What could I say, I had an odd high school experience, even by American Public School standards, and eventful friends.

By the time food came out, we’d eased up the tension by a couple points, and I only felt sort of bad when my phone vibrated insistently in my pocket. I made a gesture asking if it was chill if I got it and he nodded. I fished it out of my pocket and scanned the notification. Multiple texts from Anna, the friend I was supposed to travel home with last night, as it seems she’d finally woken up from her adventures last night. Most of them were standard, if sweet, a “did you get home”, a “sorry for ditching you”, and then finally “oh holy shit this guy is rich rich”. It was funny, and I was just about to put my phone away when I saw the last text come in.

what kind of rich as hell guy has a two bedroom? Shit, did i sleep with a married guy?

That finally got me to audibly laugh and Jack raised his eyebrow, “The friend I was supposed to get back to campus with, she just woke up and is questioning if she just became the other woman.”

“Nah, none of the guys out last night were married. What’d she look like?” He asked.

“Blonde, dark eyeliner, wearing the purple tank top,” I said. Jack then stifled a laugh.

“Ask her if the guy she went home with had poorly taken care of curls,” he said offhandedly. I did and set my phone on the table as I continued eating my brunch.

A couple minutes later my phone lit up with a notification.

yeah, that is *oddly* specific, how did you know?

“Yeah he is,”

“Oh my god,”

“What?”

“She’s at my place.”

“You’re kidding,”

“She went home with my brother, you’ve been in the same place all night,” he said and I couldn’t help but nearly double over as I started laughing. The entire reason I’d crashed was because she had ditched me and now it turns out we’d been in the same apartment the whole night.

“Oh that’s so fucking funny,” I said once I could breathe again. I shot off a text to Anna.

I’m still downtown, I’ll meet you at the train station in a half hour if you want?

deal.

I finally put my phone back in my pocket and we finished up brunch with a companionable edge. By the time the waiter came back to clear our dishes we were getting close to having to negotiate the bill.

“So…” I started to say.

“I’m paying,”

“You didn’t even—“

“I was never gonna let you pay, my mom raised me better than that.” He said.

“At least let me cover for my coffee?”

“Sadie, don’t worry about it,” he said with a tone that got me to drop it. Like I wasn’t going to be able to win this no matter how I negotiated it. As the waiter came back with the bill and Jack handed over his card I said a quiet thanks which got a grin out of him. Brain, pick a struggle, we cannot be enamored by this boy after waking up on his couch in a first meeting we can barely remember. He finished paying and we got up to leave and I did my best to keep my internal argument off my face as we did.

I managed to make it to the street corner before I was willing to confront the fact that I had to actually leave and go back to campus, and Jack had to… wait. Hang on.

The coffee had started to kick in and things were finally lining up. I knew I had to have gotten into school for some reason right?

“Oh shit,”

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head and okay fine I’ll admit it brain he’s cute, but the realizations that my brain was finally having made it so that this was never going to happen again.

“You’re a Devils player,” I said as I smacked my own forehead and Jack started laughing.

“You only just figured that out?”

“Leave me alone, I haven’t had a full night's sleep in like a week,” I joked, still covering my face a little. Jack carefully moved me out of foot traffic and gently pulled my hands away from my face.

“Is that a deal breaker?” He asked.

“What?”

“Me being a hockey player?”

“What, why?”

“Well, I thought that went well all things considered and I was gonna ask for your number to hopefully do dinner sometime.” He said with a soft smile, letting his hand fall into mine. I thought it over, between the fact that he was indeed cute, that he was nice, and funny, and asking with such an expression that seemed that, if he wasn’t trying to convince me he was cool and at least a little normal, he’d be rocking on his heels about; and the mere fact that he took me out to brunch after offering to let me crash on his couch. It was pretty much enough in the category of good signs that I was inclined to say:

“It’s not a deal breaker,” and he grinned a little wider, “besides I was going to ask for your number anyway. I have to get your shirt back somehow.” I chuckled.

“Ah, keep it, I can always buy a new one.” He joked. I passed over my phone and he put his contact in before quickly texting himself and passing it back. I chuckled at his contact photo, a terribly taken close up of him, and saw that I had a text from Anna that she was at the station already.

“I guess I’ll talk to you to figure out scheduling?” I proposed with just a hint of awkwardness.

“Yeah, I gotta check with my brother about some things and what have you.”

“Okay,” I said with a little chuckle of disbelief. “Thanks for brunch, by the way.” I said.

“Thank you for agreeing and not sneaking out in the middle of the morning,” he replied with a bit of a chuckle that lit up his face. There was no good way to leave this, with a promise of something stronger, but still uneasy about what one's dynamic is in the now, “can I give you a hug?” He asked.

Oh thank god.

“Yeah, yes,” I said with a stumbled out laugh as he matched it before giving me a friendly “see you around” style hug. We parted with a half wave and I started making my way back to the train station.

I made it with a bit of a light jog as Anna dragged me in the direction of the platform so we could catch the train just pulling into the station. We quickly collapsed into seats before she finally turned to me.

“So… who's this?” She asked tugging on the sleeve of the clearly borrowed t-shirt.

“The guy who’s couch I crashed on last night. I made a comment about feeling gross about being in last night's clothes that he lent me a t-shirt.” Lent, gave, I wasn’t certain I wanted to broach that topic with Anna yet. Roommate first, acquaintances second. “How ‘bout you? Did you at least get coffee?”

“Yeah, he made a comment about his roommate being out so we ordered breakfast at his place, he was so nice.” She gushed. I watched as the realization crossed her face, “wait you said you’d tell me how you knew what he looked like when we met up,” she lightly wacked my arm with the back of her hand, “spill.”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck, “I was at breakfast with his roommate. Also known as his brother.” I said.

“Shut up! No fucking way,” she said with a laugh. We were getting looks from a few commuters in our immediate area and I tried to quiet her down. “That’s too funny,” she said in a slightly quieter tone. “Are you seeing him again?”

“Are you?” I countered.

“Maybe, he gave me his number, but I’m not certain.” She said, “Now tell me you coward,”

“Maybe,” I countered and she groaned at my dramatics.

“Insufferable, you fink.” She joked. I grinned a little as we continued some small talk before I agreed to let her rest on my shoulder until we got to the campus’ stop.

I fished my phone out and figured that I should probably try and organize a date huh?

#winter fic exchange #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction

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xjulixred45x · 1 year ago

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>3> If it's not too late maybe a fluff scenario of 7DS Arthur and Female Reader (Guinevere no not like the loli one) reunion. They were childhood friends long before Arthur became king and were particularly close but before they had to go their separate ways (Guinevere returning to Cameliard) they made a pinky promise to meet again when they're older. qwq

Awwww that's so cute🥺🥺🥺i miss the sunshine Arthur so Bad 😭😭also DEATH TO THE LOLI!!!

7Ds! Arthur Pedragon x Guinevere! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: very slight Angst, Comfort and Much FLUFF. Childhood Friends to Lovers trope, Reader has the characteristics of Guinevere from the myths(screw the Loli).

You come from the kingdom of Carmelide, a generations-long ally of the Pendragon. and by extension, from Camelot.

So it was not unusual for your family to go to said kingdom for political reasons or to try to help in the search for the new king/queen, who should be the one worthy to lift the legendary sword.

but you were a little girl, you didn't really understand those things very well at that age, so they let you wander around the kingdom (with an escort) while the adults did what they had to do.

So, on one of those outings, you ran into Arthur (who was trying not to leave behind the one you assumed was his brother).

When Arthur first saw you, he immediately recognized that you were royalty, so he bowed cheekily and apologized for almost bumping into you. and he asked you directly if you were a princess, because of how pretty you were.

He left you a little off guard, but luckily you were able to come back to your senses when your escorts almost attacked him for thinking he was too close, you told them to leave him alone, that he was a friend.

When your escorts took some distance, you and Arthur ended up spending a good part of the day together, learning more about each other and so on, you discovered that his father was a holy knight, that his brother (Kai) was an idiot (he didn't say it, but because of how he described him you didn't like him) and that he dreamed of becoming a knight himself.

It was nice to be able to be with someone your age without having to constantly worry about etiquette and manners.

So from then on, you and Arthur began to see each other almost every day, at whatever gathering your family had, you would go out and go see him, you would catch up and play normal kid things (Arthur especially liked to play to be "the knight who rescues the beautiful princess")

you two would also go on mini picnics! After playing for a while in the forests of the kingdom, you and Arthur would find some firm and more or less clean place (Arthur always insisted that you not dirty your "expensive" clothes) and eat apples :3

You felt good with Arthur because you could finally be a girl and not just a princess of Carmelide. and Arthur felt good about you because you were sweet and kind despite your seemingly privileged position.

They both complemented each other very well.

Although the more time you spent with Arthur and both of them grew up, the romantic tension increased considerably, but neither of them did anything about it, maybe they were just a little afraid of losing the friendship they had been having.

but then Arthur managed to raise the sword on the stone, being proclaimed the new King.

and it was...a shock, to say the least.

Everything was a set of good and bad news in a short time, which did not help the shock much.

On the one hand you felt that Arthur was getting what he really deserved, to be the leader of the kingdom he loved.

but now that the new King of Camelot was present, Carmelide's advisory services would not be necessary (unless there was a great threat of course), which meant that you would no longer be allowed to go to Camelot alone.

They even told you that it would not be appropriate for you to continue seeing Arthur unless they proposed an alliance through marriage.

which was the straw that broke the camel's back. You felt very bad for days.

but at least thanks to that your family decided and arranged for you and Arthur to have one LAST outing before you had to return permanently to Carmelide.

and if it was, you and Arthur kept it calmer than normal, wanting to enjoy each other's company knowing that it would be a while before you saw each other again.

I don't know they said anything romantic as such, but they did make several things clear, they were going to miss each other, Arthur was going to miss sneaking you out, you were going to miss playing with him and having adventures.

At the end of the outing, you asked him for one last favor.

You made him intertwine his pinky with yours and you promised him that you would see him again when he was King and that he would do the same.

It didn't take long for Arthur to do the same, he promised you that even if he were king, he would do everything possible to see you again.

and with that promise in mind, you returned to Carmelide.

Time passed, and you tried to handle the loneliness as best as possible, training yourself to be the best princess possible for the kingdom. your family was satisfied.

although they were definitely taken by surprise when Henrykson and the demons happened.

Your family was alarmed, the kingdom could be in crisis, they would have to train their sacred knights more harshly and, above all, re-establish relations with Camelot and its current King.

Arthur Pendragon.

were you a little nervous? Yes, but was it completely overshadowed by the excitement of seeing Arthur again? YEAH! You wondered how he scammed now after so much time.

and Arthur was no better.

He knew that the first ally he would have to report everything to would be Carmelide, and by extension you, so he was quite impatient to go in person or for you to go to Camelot.

And to kill time he thought about how you would be or how you would be now, how everything will be in your kingdom, how YOU will be.

And when the day of the reunion arrived, both were filled with feelings.

You were the one who had to go to Camelot, which in itself brought back many pleasant childhood memories that helped you be less nervous.

Not only was he the king you were going to see, he was also a friend (and maybe something else).

and when you arrived before Arthur and they were both in the same place... it was like everything stopped for a moment.

Arthur's mind was like: no thoughts, nothing, just you.

and you were absorbing everything new about this "new Arthur" before you, he looked taller, he was in his king's armor, but he definitely gave off a certain kind aura.

You felt like you could relax with him again.

and it was.

Fortunately, Arthur only became even friendlier over time, more mature, he was still someone sincere with a heart of gold. You were grateful that he still had room to see you as a special friend and not just an alliance partner.

and Arthur was not far behind, he saw that you had become more elegant, finer and straighter, but you still had a friendly character destined for people, someone charming.

The comings and goings to Camelot became a constant in your life again and it was honestly beautiful, you could see the changes that Arthur was making in Camelot and he was very happy to have you back.

He talked a lot about his training for the King, sometimes you even helped him as he was better versed in various things related to regulations and etiquette.

He may even talk to you about the Deadly Sins! I mean, few people don't know who they are, but hearing Arthur talk about them so excitedly is definitely something else.

(if you get to know them, they definitely make the typical lovebird jokes 🤣)

I can see Arthur being more open with his romantic feelings at this point.

Of course, in the time that you weren't together maybe one could say that it was just a childish crush, but now that you are together again, and that he can continue to love and appreciate this mature version of you, he can say that he is in love.

now the nickname "princess" or "lady" can be used both ironically and non-ironically xd simply for Arthur You are a princess :3)

And for your part, you cannot say that it is unilateral either.

Arthur loves you and appreciates you regardless of the title and the label, even now that he is THE KING and he SHOULD care, he doesn't, he only cares about you. You can't help but feel very appreciated by him.

even making your own advances (against what your family would consider "appropriate")

you two spent a good time making up for lost time, catching up with each other and so on, and that tension they used to have when they were younger seemed to resurface.

only this time it seemed like they were more prepared for the possibility of being SOMETHING ELSE.

Who knows, maybe a marriage alliance isn't such a bad idea after all.

At least, not if is with YOU/HIM.

Done! I hope You like it❤️❤️

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome

#headcanons #fem reader #seven deadly sins #sds #sds x reader #sds arthur #nnt x reader #arthur nnt #arthur pendragon #nnt #king arthur #nnt arthur #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai arthur

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ljz002-world · 3 months ago

Text

Assistant, Part 2

“Ana!”, Michael called out as he jogged up to walk besides the girl who turned to look at him quite shocked, “Mikey-boy!” Michael caught up with the girl as the two walked side by side towards the office, “How’re you Ana?” “Doin’ alright, you?” “Bit out of breath but fine.” “Why’re you here? Don’t you go to the office from the Shelby home?” “Nah, I’m with my mum, it’s a bit of a longer way from there down here. Tommy just bought her a house.” “I remember”, Ana said with a smile, “He told me how happy Aunt Pol was-“ “You call her ‘Aunt Pol’?” “Yeah. I’ve known her for a while now. She’s like a mother to me. I never had one.” “O-Oh, I’m sor-“ “Don’t be Mikey-boy. You didn’t know. But you’re lucky to have her as your mum. She’s the best.”

Michael and Ana continued with senseless small-talk until the boy looked over his shoulder, swiftly grabbing onto Anastasia’s waist and pulling her against him, catching the girl completely off guard. Just as she was about to protest a car sped past them. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to drive”, Michael said as he glared after the car before turning his attention to Anastasia whom he was still holding close to himself, “Are you alright Ana?” “Y-Yeah, ‘m fine”, the girl stammered, growing red from blush at the closeness she and the boy shared, she could feel his hot breath hitting her forehead as he was checking if she had gotten any injuries. He might have pulled her out of the way but the car was still dangerously close to her.

As the two stood in such closeness neither really spoke, both being pulled back to reality by someone clearing his throat behind him. “Oh, Finn”, Anastasia spoke as she recognized the youngest Shelby brother. Said boy was standing behind then, cap on his head as he glared at Michael. “That’s enough touching I think. You can let go of ‘er Michael.” The younger boy did as told, letting his hands slip away from Anastasia as he looked at his cousin, unsure of how to react. “We should get going. Tommy’s waiting for his assistant and accountant to begin their work.” “R-Right!”, Anastasia beamed as she walked towards Finn, grabbing ahold of his arm as she dragged him to walk with her and Michael, “Now why the gloomy look, Finny?” “Woke up on a bad leg.” “Silly boy”, Anastasia chuckled, she considered Finn one of her few true friends. She had known him since she was a child, the two were around the same age, Finn only being a few years older than her. He and aunt Pol had gotten her the job a few months ago. And Finn seemed to be the only boy who was consistent in her life.

“Anything new going on?”, Finn asked Anastasia and the girl nodded, “Yeah, I got a date tonight.” “Oh?”, Finn asked with a raised eyebrow, this had also caught Michael’s attention as the three were walking to the office where Thomas Shelby did most of his legal business. “Yeah. I’m excited.” “Whose the lucky boy?”, Finn asked and the girl smiled at him, “Chuck. You know, the boy working down with the Butcher. He’s a fine isn’t he?” “Does Tommy know?”, Michael asked, earning a slight glare from Finn as the girl shook her head, “Why would he? He ain’t me father.”

By now the group was by the office and Anastasia was quick to get to her table and start her work. Michael having a desk right besides her to do his own work while Finn just entered his brother’s office, leaving around twenty minutes later. At around four in the evening Thomas stood by his door and barked for Anastasia to get into his office once again.

Said girl just rolled her eyes once more as she got up, “I swear if it’s something stupid again I’m gonna blow”, she grumbled as Michael just chuckled, “Like what?” “Like his tie got loose again, or the buttons by his sleeves undone. I swear to god I sometimes don’t know how he made it back alive from war.”

At her words Michael was unsure how to react, she truly was the only one who dared to speak about Thomas Shelby that way. Once she had entered his office another worker turned to face Michael, “That girl has the biggest balls in all of England. Not even Mr. Shelby’s enemies talk to him like that.” “I figured, he’d have his enemies dead quicker than a lightning if they did.”

Just as they wanted to say something else shouting could be heard from their boss’ office, Anastasia was shouting at the top of her lungs at Thomas fucking Shelby.

“No! I’ve had it with you! You ain’t me father, so don’t act like it! I am going to meet Chuck and I am going to go on a fucking date with him!”, with that the girl stormed out of the separate office belonging to mr. Shelby as she grabbed her bag, her eyes seeing only red as she turned to Michael, “I’ve had it with your cousin! Why do all of the Shelby’s have such thick heads?! My god!”

Anastasia had waited, and waited, and waited, for no one to show up. But she heard footsteps approaching her from behind, footsteps that made her heart flutter in hopes that it’d be the boy who had asked her out. But a voice that did not belong to the boy she was waiting for spoke up, “All alone Ana?”

“Mikey-boy?”, the girl turned around to face the slightly older boy who stood a few feet behind her, arms in the pockets of his pants as he mustered the girl up and down, “You look good.” “Well, too fucking bad that my date didn’t show up. They never do.” “Their loss”, Michael said calmly as he walked closer, no eyes were on the street at this hour. “And your win?” “If you let me take you somewhere, then yes.” “What you have in mind?” “Well, we could always go to the Garrison.” “Isn’t Mr. Shelby there?” “So? You said it yourself this morning, you don’t give a shit what he has to say about your dating life, ain’t that right?”

The girl thought, looking up at the taller boy before smiling mischievously, “I like the way you think Mikey-boy. You’re paying”, she said as she had walked close enough to him to pat him on his chest, leaving the boy with brown hair quite stunned, “I wouldn’t have let you pay either way!” With that he jogged to catch up with the girl, being bold enough to put his arm around her waist as the two walked to the pub where Shelbys drank for free.

“Oh, you’re not going to like what just walked brother”, Arthur told Thomas who turned to look at the door where none other than his accountant and secretary walked in, with his cousin’s hand on the girl’s waist as he helped her out of her coat before hanging it politely onto the hanger by the doors. “Like hell I like that”, Thomas said coldly as he turned to look at John, “Didn’t you tell him?” “Don’t look at me Tommy, I told him to keep his hands to himself!” Finn just watched on in jealousy as the two walked to the bar, Michael ordering whiskey while Anastasia stayed with something non-alcoholic. She never drank alcohol.

“We tell ‘em to come over?”, Finn asked but Thomas shook his head, “No. They’ll come on their own.” The leader of the Peaky Blinders was proven right once the girl and his cousin had noticed them, walking over before sitting with them at their table. “Good night isn’t it? Tommy”, Michael spoke, a sly grin on his lips as Anastasia just looked at the older man coldly. Thomas downed his whiskey before setting the glass onto the table, “That’s not the Chuck boy.” “He’s not.” “Why?”, Thomas folded his hands in front of his chin as Anastasia crossed her legs before looking at Michael and then back at her boss, “He did a no-show, Probably wet his pants at the thought of actually having to meet me. Your cousin has more balls, that much’s sure.” Thomas nodded, Finn just glared at his cousin silently. “Not even a year here and you already claw yourself at a Shelby? Brave girl”, Thomas said to which Ana huffed, “I already work for you. Plus, Mikey-boy is just a sweetheart, wanted to cheer me up, ain’t that right?” To this Michael nodded, “No lady as pretty as you should be sad.”

“It’s getting late”, Anastasia said as she got up, Michael getting up as well, “I better get home. Got a cat waiting on me at home.” “I’ll take you”, Michael said, with a smile, he indirectly wanted to rub it in his cousins faces. He knew about the unspoken rivalry between Finn and Thomas, both wanting the same girl, and now, within a few days, Michael had gotten farther than both combined. “No need, I can take her home”, Thomas stated to which Anastasia gave him a sickly sweet smile, “But Mr. Shelby, you’ve had quite a lot to drink, if anything you should be brought home. Have a long working day at the office tomorrow.” “I’m fine”, Thomas said coldly, wanting to get up bit Michael interjected, “Tommy, don’t worry. I’ll just bring her home, and then I’m off home as well. See you tomorrow.” “See you boys then”, Anastasia said with a wave as she and Michael left the pub just before midnight.

“Want to come inside?” The question caught the young man off guard as he choked on his spit before clearing his throat, “I thought you don’t do that?” “Do what?” “Let boys into your home after the first date?” “This was a date? This was a meeting, we met and had fun, and I want to invite you to a bit tea. It helps you sleep at night.” Michael grinned as he wiped his shoes on the matt before entering the girl’s home, taking his coat off and hanging it besides the girl’s coat as he followed her upstairs into her bedroom, “So we’re havin’ tea in your bedroom?” “Yes?”, Anastasia said with a sly smile as she closed the door to her bedroom, shutting her lovely little fur-ball out.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #michael gray #peaky blinders x reader

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chimindity · 22 days ago

Text

No party for you

Summary | Rafe bumps into his sister at his own party where she is not allowed to be. Request by @/anon

Pairing | Rafe & sister!reader & Sofia

Warning | Rafe being toxic/(abusive?) towards his sister; slight mention of drug

A/N | Rafe and Sofia icon from @marvelfanfics1 ; I changed the plot but I hope you still like it! <3 really got inspired by that one scene in 'diary of a wimpy kid'

𐙚⭑𓂃────────𓂃⭑𐙚

As you pace back and forth in the bathroom, adjusting your hair to get ready for the party your brother is throwing in the house, you want to be a part of it and have a lot of fun, even if he forbids you to go downstairs. You pull out one of your lip glosses and apply it to your lips before heading out of the bathroom.

You carefully peek your head to the side of the door to see if Rafe is nearby. You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, where the atmosphere is loud and the music is blasting as you try to pass through the crowd. The awful smell of weed makes you cough as you scan for familiar faces. Suddenly, you feel someone tapping your shoulder before getting dragged out of the kitchen into the hallway.

-"What the hell did I tell you? I said, ‘Don’t come out of your room,’ and—what is that dress anyway? This is not a wedding!" He frowns his brows as he looks you up and down. Your eyes widen at the sight of Rafe; there are a lot of people, so you did not expect him to spot you this easily.

-"Rafe, I just wanted to have fun, nothing else," you stutter, the realization of being caught hitting you as you fidget with your pink dress nervously. You have never been to a real party; how could you even know what the dress code is? -"Well, no shit, I don’t believe that," his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he looks at you.

You start to ramble, trying to reason with him about how old enough you are to be able to party. -"I'm allowed to!" You raise your voice a bit, which causes it to get on his nerves. He sends you a death stare before abruptly grabbing you by the arm. -"Rafe," you squeal, he has never been like this—well, at least not with you. You're taken aback by his actions since he was always trying to be gentle with you. You squirm in his grip as he drags you to the door of the basement.

-"Rafe? What are you doing, Rafe!" Tears well up in your eyes as you watch him unlock the door, you are shivering under his firm grip. -"Did you take drugs?" you mumble cluelessly, your voice shaking at the thought of Rafe acting harshly with you. -"None of your business. Go clean that mess down there, k'ay? It'll keep you busy for a while." As he pulls you inside the basement, he quickly locks the door back. He leans against it as he hears your muffled complaints. -"Rafe! What's happening? Let me out!"

He chuckles cheesily. -"You're not allowed to go to parties; I'm just saving your ass. There are a lot of weirdos in the kitchen," he murmurs before walking back to the kitchen to join Topper. When all of a sudden, he bumps into Sofia on the way. -"Hey, honey, uh— is everything okay?" He bends down a little to look at her while rubbing her upper arms in a soothing way.

-"No, Rafe, I can't find our baby. She was supposed to stay in her room. Where is she?" Sofia starts to panic at the thought of anything bad that could be happening to you right now. She brings her thumb to her mouth to nervously bite at her fingernail. -"Hey, hey, she is safe, k'ay? Our daughter is safe," he tries to calm her down by giving her a reassuring smile.

Her face lights up at the reassurance. Rafe gently takes her by the hand to lead her to the door of the basement. -"I spotted her in the kitchen; I had to, okay? She's in there," Rafe admits. As soon as you recognize Rafe's voice, you start to call out for help again. He purses his lips as he opens the door.

Sofia's eyes land on you, and she immediately takes you in her arms. -"My baby, why? Why would you go downstairs while you know damn well that your dad and I are having a party?" She wipes off your tears with her thumbs as she looks down at you. She mostly agrees with everything Rafe does; they have to protect you from any danger, that's what they always say to you, and you believe them, you feel loved and protected by them.

They both walked you to your room and stayed there until you eventually fell asleep, kissing you goodnight and closing the door while they made sure you were in a deep sleep before going back to partying downstairs.

Taglist

@jjsfavgirl ; @nemesyaaa ; @mrvlxgrl ; @wearemadeofstardust0 ; @marvelfanfics1 ; @jjmaybankssurfergf ; @mylettterstoyou ; @sweetstars-posts

#outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x sister!reader #rafe cameron x sister reader #rafe x sister!reader x sofia

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apothe-roses · 1 year ago

Text

I Wanna Ride

modern Aemond Targaryen x reader

Part 2

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Summary: You go to your first biker meet with Aly and Cregan. After witnessing a bit of that classic Targ family tension, an opportunity arises. One that may require you to spend more time with your least favorite Targaryen.

Fic Contains: swearing, family tension, Aemond being a prick (again), sexual tension if you squint

Word Count: 2034

The sun has just set over the gathering in the heart of King’s Landing’s steel district. The air is alive with the sound of purring engines, shouts, and rock music playing. You look around, trying to take everything in at once.

You and Ally likely would’ve been swallowed by the crowd had it not been for Cregan serving as your personal buffer. With his height, he easily cut a path through the crowd for the two of you. One of his hands reaches behind him to hold Aly’s. Her other arm is linked in yours.

“Isn’t this fun?” Aly shouts.

“Yeah, I wish I’d gone to one of these sooner,” you respond just as loud.

“Really? Even the countless times I asked you to come with me?” Aly shoots back playfully.

“I was busy!” you argue.

“Excuses, excuses,” Aly retorts. “You were scaared.” She drags the last word out mockingly.

You elbow her playfully. She laughs and elbows you back.

“Well, at least you’re here now. Right, babe?” She directs the question to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure!” Cregan shouts over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure he wasn’t paying attention to your conversation at all.

Suddenly, Cregan raises his free hand and starts waving madly.

“Jace! Jace!” He shouts. He picks up his pace, dragging you and Aly with him.

You come to a less crowded area with picnic benches scattered about. Cregan makes a beeline towards one, letting go of Aly’s hand to engulf another guy in a bear hug. Cregan breaks the hug, ruffling his friend’s curly brown hair. You presume this is “Jace.”

“Aly! How’ve you been,” Jace asks, embracing her.

“I was doing great til I saw your ugly mug,” Aly teases, copying Cregan and ruffling his hair. Jace waves her off, laughing. Then he notices you.

“Hi! I’m Jace! Nice to meet you,” Jace says happily.

“My boyfriend’s boyfriend,” Aly explains over Jace’s shoulder. Jace turns to retort, but Aly takes refuge behind a laughing Cregan. Jace turns back to you, shaking his head.

“Come on. I saved us a table,” he said with a smile. He leads you all to a table where another boy—his brother Luke—sits. You all fall into easy conversation. You tell Jace and Luke about your new dragon, and they tell you about the new models they’re having a hand in developing.

“I thought only Targaryens were allowed to submit designs,” you say, confused.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? Our mom’s Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Luke explains. Your mouth falls open.

“We take after our dad. Our little brother Joffrey is the same,” Jace adds in. Looking at him, you could see the resemblance to his father, Harwin Strong.

“Oh, wow,” you stammer, unable to find a response. Luckily, you didn’t have to as something catches Luke’s eye.

“Oh no,” he says, shrinking in his seat. You turn to where he’s looking. Walking through the crowd are none other than Aegon and Aemond Targaryen. Both Targaryens have ditched the coveralls you initially met them in. Aegon opted for a navy sweatshirt and jeans, a gold chain hanging around his neck. Aemond was wearing all black, from his leather jacket to his combat boots. His hair was only half pulled up, leaving the rest to hang down his chest.

They were accompanied by two people you immediately recognized as their siblings Daeron and Helaena.

The four siblings spot your group and start to make their way over. Well, three of them do. Aemond immediately turns and stalks off in a different direction. Helaena looks like she’s going to stop him, but Daeron shakes his head at her. You watch as Aemond disappears down an alley. When you turn back, you immediately lock eyes with Aly, who raises a brow and smirks a bit.

You scowl back at her, thinking back to the conversation you two had after getting your bike back.

“You didn’t mention he was hot!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware the hotness of the mechanic was of any relevance!” Aly shot back sarcastically.

“You also didn’t mention he was…”

“Rude?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, Aemond’s always been more on the antisocial side. Apparently the rudeness came in after the accident,” she whispers that last part (even though they were the only two people in the room).

“Accident?”

“Yeah. Something to do with his nephew. Never got the full story. All I know is that it really divided the family and they haven’t been the same since.”

That tension is evident in the strained smiles the remaining Targaryen siblings give your group.

“Hello nephews,” Aegon greets Jace and Luke. “And friends,” he finishes, sending a wink your way.

“Mind if we join you?” Helaena asks softly.

“Of course,” Jace answers, noticeably less tense with his aunt. Aegon and Daeron squeeze in on either side of Jace and Luke while Helaena takes a place on the edge of the bench next to you. You notice she has brightly colored earplugs in.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Helaena,” she says softly. You tell her your name in response.

“The one who put Aemond in his place,” Aegon adds from his seat at the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him,” you say

“Don’t be. Aemond’s funny when he’s mad,” Daeron laughs. You furrow your brows.

“We didn’t even interact for that long. I didn’t think I would make much of an impression on him,” you ponder.

“Oh, Arm’s not used to people talking to him at all. People tend to give him a wide berth when they come to the garage,” Aegon explains. “And you not only tried to make conversation but called him out on his bullshit. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Helaena muses. “He’s really nice once you get to know him.

“Everyone is nice to you Hel,” Daeron drawls.

“Still,” Helaena huffs.

The topic is dropped as the table makes meaningless small talk with each other. You tuned most of the conversation out til Aegon clasped his hands together.

“Look, nephews,” Aegon starts, leaning in. “Word on the street is that you know the location of the next Dragon Rally.”

“How do you know we know?” Jace asks.

“Because you don’t shut up about it,” Aly responds, causing Cregan to snort. Jace frowns at her. “Didn’t Grandpa tell any of you about it?” He directs the question to his relatives.

“Of course not,” Daeron scoffs. An awkward silence falls over the table.

“Aaanyways,” Cregan drags out. “You gonna come with us?” He looks at you over his girlfriend’s head. Aly turns to look at you as well.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply. The Dragon Rally was a rather secretive event despite its popularity. All you knew was that it involved a grueling ride to whatever location was picked that year and that it was sponsored by the Targaryen family.

“I don’t think I’ll have quite gotten the hang of riding by the time it rolls around,” you continue.

“Oh, Aemond can teach you!” Helaena exclaims. Everyone at the table turns to look at her as if she’s grown a second head.

“What? Vaghar and Meraxes are similar enough models. Plus, it could help patch things up between them.”

“As much as I’d hate to throw you to the wolves, she has a point,” Aegon says. “If anyone’s got the stuff to whip you into shape in a short amount of time, it’s Aemond.”

You look down at the table, thinking on what they said. You’ve spent a long time on the outskirts of this community, wanting to join on the fun but never finding the opportunity—or the courage. You didn’t want to miss out on any more.

“Why doesn’t Aly do it? They’re friends after all,” Jace asks.

“Trust me, Aly couldn’t teach a fish how to swim,” Cregan laughs, earning an elbow in the side from his girlfriend.

“I’m a great teacher,” Aly snaps at Cregan, who laughs and kisses the top of her head.

“Of course you are, love,” he says softly. Daeron pretends to gag, causing Helaena to scold him.

“You know I’d help you,” she says to you. “But my nephew and his gremlin friends are coming into town.” You nod sympathetically. You’ve met Benji Blackwood before. He’s a nice kid, but if he and his friends are in town…Aly’s brother’s gonna need all the help he can get.

“And before you ask, I won’t have the time to lend my expertise. And neither will you,” Cregan explains to Jace.

“Come on, there’s no harm in at least asking,” Aegon teases. You look up at him.

“Alright,” you say simply, rising from the bench.

“Wait, I didn’t mean right now!” Aegon shouts as you walk off in the direction Aemond disappeared in earlier.

Aemond leans against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You know that’s bad for you, right?”

Aemond’s eye lands on you. He gives you a once over before removing the cigarette and letting out a puff of smoke.

“Oh. You,” he said flatly.

“Yes. Me,” you parrot back, matching his flat delivery. You swear you see a slight twinkle in his eye.

“I didn’t think events like this were your thing,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“They’re not,” Aemond responds curtly. He takes another drag. “My siblings practically kidnapped me. They think I don’t get out enough,” He scoffs.

“Based on the mercifully brief interaction we had, I’d wager they’re right,” you quip.

“Did they send you to drag me out there,” he asks, taking another puff.

“No, actually. I wanted to ask you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Did you fuck up your bike already?”

“No,” you huff. “Though if I had, I could probably fix it myself.”

He angles his body towards you, his shoulder braces against the wall. “Could you now?”

You thought he was mocking you, but the look in his eyes…he looks more curious than anything.

“I brought her to you ‘cause I hit a dead end. Thought it would be good to get a second pair of eyes to look her over. Oh!” You mentally kick yourself for your poor word choice. “I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine. Happens all the time,” Aemond interjects, though you see his jaw clench. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

You took a deep breath. “The Dragon Rally is coming up. I want to go with my friends,” you start.

“That ride is brutal,” he says, frowning. “You’d have to train hard to be ready by the time it rolls around.”

“I know. Which is why I want you to teach me,” you finish, bracing yourself for his response.

He doesn’t say anything, only gapes at you as if you’d spouted the most ludicrous idea in the world. “Why on earth would you want me to teach you?” He asks.

“Your sister suggested it,” you reply shyly. “And Aegon seconded the idea.”

He lowers his gaze with a hmm. You shift from foot to foot, waiting for his response.

“It’s going to be a lot of work. To start from absolutely nothing—“

“We wouldn’t be starting from nothing!” You interrupt.

“Wouldn’t we?” He quips back.

“I know the basics,” you explain.

“The basics,” he scoffed.

“And what’s wrong with that?” you ask incredulously. His lips curl into a smirk as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

“Riding a dragon,” he purrs, “is anything but basic.”

You weren’t sure if he meant for that to come off as seductive as it did.Gods, why does his voice have to be so sexy?

“So will you do it?” You ask tentatively.

“Hmmm. I’ll think about it,” he responds.

You nod your head. At least it wasn’t an outright no. Not wanting to push your luck, you turn to walk away.

“But if I do say yes, I’ll want something in return,” he calls after you.

You freeze, looking back at him over your shoulder. “And what exactly will that be?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” he replies. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.” You let out a small sigh of relief.

“But you’ll owe me,” he finishes. “And I never forget a debt.”

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