#so there are some amusing surface similarities

[thearcherbrothersx]

Oh, that little look. That little look, though it was brief, had his fingers itching, his instinct as a Dom to put her in her place bubbling beneath the surface. Had this been any other time, any other context, during any other conversation, he would have flipped her right over and slapped her ass black and blue again. But he settled for retuning her look with a harder one of his own, a clear yet unspoken message; she was lucky he was letting it pass... this time.

"I'm not saying you were dishonest," he amended evenly. "But I am saying you weren't completely honest with me." And that was the whole issue at this point. The little things she did or said to let him know there was so much more going on beyond the surface; things she held back. And while he would allow her whatever space she needed (for the most part) to open up on her own time, some things were too important to their relationship to let slip between the cracks. Still not being completely honest, he mentally tacked on when she gave him the practical reason. Sure, it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth.

He was about to push the issue, a subtle frown on his forehead, when she reached out to touch him instead, making him pause, eyes flickering to the skin to skin contact. He released another measured breath, letting the emotions in her gaze draw him in as she finally began speaking. This time, it felt different. It felt raw and bare, like she was pealing away a little bit of her armour to let him see a part of her that hadn't breathed air in years. And so he stayed carefully still, kept his features calm and open, and let her speak her piece, his hand taking hers when she sought it out.

He was quiet for a moment even after she finished, making sure nothing more was coming. Then he raised their joined hands to his lips, and he placed a kiss to the back of hers. "Thank you for your honesty, angel." It was the first thing he said, wanting to make sure she knew he understood that it wasn't easy for her let herself be vulnerable like that. "Most importantly, I want to make it very clear that it is your place to ask me for that. It's your place to ask me for anything you need or want from me, my darling. As clever as I am," his lips twitched with a bit of amusement, "I've yet to perfect mindreading as a discipline. So it's important that you do." The hand by her chin shifted a little then, inching higher until he could bury the tips of his fingers in her hair, his palm settled just below her ear. "Even if I do not always indulge you."

He paused to lean in, minimizing the distance between them. For a moment, he considered making her ask for it, but decided to relent; he'd pushed her enough. So he brushed his lips against hers then, lightly, and spoke: "In this case, my possessive angel, had you asked, I would have told you that my interest in anything sexual starts and ends with you." He tilted her head back a little more and delivered another light kiss. "I would have told you that your busy little head has nothing to worry about." Another similar kiss. "And you would have saved yourself a lot of energy."

Her brow knitted a bit as he said her name, giving him a look before fixing her face. She quite literally bit her tongue behind her teeth to keep from letting a snarky little remark slip out. Because this was an important conversation and because of the whole cumming on his tongue thing, and she didn't want to ruin anything.

She watched him as he walked toward her, suddenly feeling like prey being stalked by some predator. It took self-control not to back away, staying glued to the bed, not wanting to show any weakness. He was misunderstanding her, which frustrated her, because she wasn't this girl. She took pride in not playing games, in being straight forward. "I wasn't being dishonest." And in her mind, she technically hadn't been. "It isn't necessary on your end, but I want to know if you're sleeping with other people. Especially if we aren't using protection." It wasn't meant to come across as insulting, more practical than anything.

Cora moved her hand up, catching his that held her chin, stroking the pad of her thumb along his hand. She was trying, hearing his message about honesty, so she put her pride aside. "Would I like monogamy? Of course. I don't want you with anyone else." Just saying it had her anxiety spiking, wanting to run, wanting to find someplace to hide. Her free hand moved to his other, anchoring herself. "I'm just as possessive as you are, Master." Cora swallowed softly, her eyes flickering from his before landing back on his gaze. "Maybe more, believe it or not. So no, I don't want to share you, I don't anyone else touching you, but I also don't feel like it's my place to ask you for that."

[lilacxquartz]

part 6 of 19 of kinktober: foursome

mahito x reader

plot: mahito surprises you by splitting his body into three copies of himself — themes: group sex, mahito changing his body to have tentacles, tongue throating, smut, anal, m/m/m/f, foursomes, f!reader — a/n: all consensual here, wanted to play around with such an imagine — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

“Can I help you with something?” you asked Mahito who was otherwise stood right before you; his eyes so dazed yet so focused at the same time, as though wide with fleeting wonder.

“Wanna see something fun?” he asked after a moment of unsettling silence.

Knowing Mahito, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread nestle within the depths of your stomach. Albeit reluctantly, you however did nod as to confirm your curiosity.

Noticing your discomfort, the patch faced cursed spirit giggled to himself rather suspiciously but seemed to be restraining himself into a smoother, more casual demeanour.

You then watched with wary eyes as he did something not only strange, but surely impossible.

Even for him.

Like the tethering flame of a dry wick kissing a burning flame, Mahito slowly emerged as a secondary, seemingly separated life form. You stared with a wide, unblinking gaze as his body began to split, plopping out another version of him.

It took a hot moment for you to even process what was going on. A thought that you must have been hallucinating had crossed your mind for a second, but no matter how you tried to shake off what you were seeing; you couldn’t.

You faltered for a second longer before regaining your voice again, quizzing him at an almost bewildered tone, “I beg your finest pardon?”

“Impressed?” the Mahito closest to you had asked. The clone version. His voice was equally smooth and seemingly equally just as playful as his original counterpart.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself while taking a long, deep breath. With a still shaky tone, you tried your best to keep it all together, but you couldn’t quite retain your composure completely, “I’m not… too surprised, actually. I’m just floored that this is even possible to begin with.”

The two of them laughed in response, both sounding eerily similar yet somehow vaguely different. It was very clearly that they both found this whole situation deeply amusing, although there was a slight inkling of something else that lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t quite unlike Mahito to prod at your boundaries and test the limits of what you could and could not handle, but it didn’t seem to be going in such a direction.

Before you had a chance to gather your thoughts and finalise them however, the cursed spirit managed to split off once more and reveal a third addition to his two other copies.

With fluttering eyes, you locked in on the sight before you.

There were three of them.

Three.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything, but no such words came.

Just what the hell was this, exactly?

“What’s the matter?” one of them asked, their voice taunting yet somehow alluring at the same time.

“What’s the matter…?” you repeated in a strained whisper, your mind still racing to process whatever mess he had plunged you into now. Which one of them was even speaking to you right now, anyway? Was this the original? Or was it one of the other… clones?

Another Mahito that hovered near the side of the other two decided to chime in as well, “You’re looking a little overwhelmed, huh?”

Was… was this one the original? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Although, there was one version of him that was surely unsettling. The one that lingered towards the side, watching you from the shadows. That particular version of him had no playfulness leftover in his demeanour, with all accounts of his nonchalant personality replaced with something dread inducing instead.

“Just think,” one of the more laidback versions spoke up, tearing your attention away, “the more of me, the better right?”

The other one seemed to agree with himself, “Yeah, that’s right. Now you get to have three times the fun.”

You hadn’t really quite noticed it right away, but the three of them had managed to close in on you by now, walking you up against the living room wall. The sensation of the cool brick pressing against your spine threw you off a little, prompting you to flinch.

Yet, the three Mahitos were undeterred, still easing as closely possible towards you. It wasn’t that you were put off by this development—it was quite the opposite actually—but you didn’t want to admit it. That in the presence of three of him, you were flustered, maybe even aroused.

And given the hungry looks on each of their faces, it was highly likely that they all had the same idea going on. You paused for a moment, narrowing your eyes at the sight. Of course they were all thinking the same thing, surely. They were still one person—one curse, after all—just sectioned off into three.

Ah, how confusing it all was, but you were slowly losing your ability to otherwise care, blinded by your own arousal.

The middle Mahito pressed his body against your own, trapping you between him and the wall. His hand snaked around your waist, coiling down to your core like organic springs, while the others manoeuvred around however and wherever they could.

Dipping your arm below your hips, the middle Mahito continued onwards with his pursuit by pushing down at your jeans and your underwear in unison, dropping the fabric down to the floor. His fingers then closed and pointed, webbing together and morphing into a tentacle-like appendage that speared into the enveloping pull of your cunt.

The quieter, more unnerving Mahito turned your head off to the side while the middle one continued to drive himself into your body, by pressing his lips against yourself and slipping his tongue inside. Similar to the middle version, the fleshy muscle seemed to only lengthen itself, vining into the back of your throat and quite literally taking your breath away.

Muffled whines and moans slipped out of your throat as you barely processed the progression of events. The writhing pass in between your legs had bloated and swelled, pushing inhuman lengths of reach. It partially hurt, but also felt pleasurable in a way that was unlike anything you have ever felt before. At last however, the tongue retracted from your throat, allowing you to pass a low whimper on its removal.

The one opposite off to the side didn’t give you too much time to think however, turning you over towards him with an impatient gesture and repeating the actions of the quieter one—of who positioned himself right behind you next. While both your pussy and your throat were occupied, he freed his erection from slightly pulling down at his trousers and position himself at your slightly parted cheeks. Spitting onto his tip, he coated the head of cock in saliva before pressing it against the opening of your ass, easing himself into the tight position, though allowing you to take him in slowly.

“Keep up,” the quieter one murmured, the playfulness still somehow absent from his voice unlike with the other two. Something about such a development was both thrilling yet worrying, but you didn’t have neither the time nor the opportunity to think.

You tried your best to keep up, feeling his throbbing length press become swallowed by the encasing muscles, feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of being filled up by three of him. The one tightly packed in your behind, pushing himself back and forth in heated, almost feverish motion. It almost felt like he was tearing you apart, splitting into you with every grunted plunge.

Meanwhile, the one in the front was quickly getting a rise from within you. Morphing veins and ridges over his twisting arm, he elicited raw pleasure from filling you out in every sense of the word. His other hand focused on creating a suction-like addition, that he held clean over your clit, further feeding into the sensation.

Thoroughly stuffed to the brim by all three of them, your body began to quickly writhe and convulse as it succumbed to almost numbing bliss.

“Aw, are you going to cum already?” the one in front of you teased, although his tone of voice seemed to be almost endearing.

All you could do was give a slight nod of your occupied head, still being throated by his other self pushing his elongated tongue back and forth down your throat while the other continued to pound away ruthlessly into your ass.

Still keeping the sensation going, he removed his other hand from your clit, easing down to his knees instead while keeping his arm still thrusting into you. Propping open his mouth, he speared his tongue over towards your clit in a similar fashion to how the other two used their tongues, driving a focus on the sensitive bud. The wet muscle flicked and lapped over the nub, bringing you closer and closer towards your finish.

It was swift due to the overwhelming amount of both pleasure and pressure alike, but your lower stomach soon had found its limit. In a tight squeeze, your thighs quivered and clenched tight against his arm, while your hips stuttered from an intensely milked out orgasm.

Melting against the wall in much sought after recovery, the other two withdrew from you and seemed to fuse back together with the original, who seemed to be the one in the middle. You blinked at the sight, but didn’t question it anymore, needing to rest more than to process the madness he just demonstrated.

“Now imagine if i could make even more of me,” Mahito laughed to himself, settling right beside you to join you in your rest.

You gulped, unable to quite imagine the prospect of even more of him, feeling your cheeks redden from the very thought in near anticipation.

With a weary light hearted scoff, you leaned your head over his shoulder and felt your eyes droop shut. “Yeah, imagine…”

(Although a part of you couldn’t wait for all this to happen again. And again. …And again.)

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

[felibrary]

╭──╯ TWO TRUTHS, ONE LIE

PAIRING: aventurine x reader

SYNOPSIS: in which you invite aventurine to play a drinking game with you: "two truths and one lie." it's an amusing game, what could possibly go wrong? that is until one can't distinguish between the truth and a lie.

wordcount: 1.8k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, drunk - not really drunk rather intoxicated confession? or drunk idk, alcohol, barely any metaphors - like little to none but more dialogue (i’ve improved..ig!!), the title basically says everything

AUTHORS NOTE: i needed to write something and its two almost three am, im dying. istg i pulled this out of my asscrack. So who am i to proofread?? also this is kinda similar, kinda (really) similar to my other fic. what if i cried. when writers block gets so bad you start copying yourself dawg

“it’ll be fun!” 

you blissfully cheer as you take out two shot glasses out of your cupboard before fetching a bottle of vodka and setting it down onto the big and fancy dining table that stands in the middle of your living room, a moving gift for your new apartment which you received from none other than aventurine. 

(he insisted that it’s a fitting gift for your new home - well it certainly didn’t fit well through your front door, only after a few tries from aventurines employees they managed to transport it inside your new apartment.) 

with quick movements, the blond grabs the transparent alcohol and pours the two of you a glass. “how gentlemanlike of you.” you comment, a pinch of teasing in your words as you let out a huff, smiling as you shake your head before sitting down, right in front of him. 

a faint laugh escapes aventurine's lips and he can only hum in delight as he slides over your glass from across the table. “so if i understood it right, you for an example, tell me one lie and two truths and if i were to guess them correctly, i as the victor get to see you, the loser drinking a shot?” he props his elbow onto the dining table before leaning his cheek into the palm of his left hand, curiously awaiting your answer.

your eyes gleam in excitement “bingo!” and he can’t help the smile that finds its way onto his face. “though we’re not gonna do it one go, we’ll have turns. for example, i start off by telling a lie and you guess if i was telling the truth or not, then it’s my turn to guess, then it’s yours again and so on.” 

you grab the glass from above and lazily twirl around the vodka. “how does that sound?” you tap your fingers around glass before slowly tracing the edges of your glass with your index finger in a languid motion. “is this a wager you’re willing to indulge in, mr. aventurine?” you smile. what a tease you are.

“sure, sure. i see no reason to decline your generous offer.” he returns your smile with one of his own, similar to the one he gives to his clients, polite and charming. “well then, it’s only natural for you as the guest to start, right?” you set your glass down and it makes a light “thump” sound. 

“how kind of you.” he looks down at the dining table, scanning the items with his eyes. a white tablecloth which is stained with some light brown-yellowish spots, probably from the times when you spilled coffee onto your table and weren’t able to properly wash them out. 

he hums as he taps his fingers against the hard surface of the table, deep in thought as if pondering what to say. “let’s start off with an easy one, the critters were a gift from the trailblazer.” a lie.

you’re quick to respond “that’s a lie. although you and the trailblazer get along well, they’ve never gifted you something like a pet. the person whom you received them from is veritas.” upon that aventurine can only give you a content smile before gulping his glass down in one go. 

“very well.” he praises you before opening the alcohol bottle and pouring him another glass, not once breaking eye contact as he shoots you a knowing look that says “your turn.”

unlike aventurine you don’t need a long time to think about what you’re going to say. “i used to like you a lot.” a partial lie - you still like him. 

“that’s a lie.” aventurine immediately points out, not even bothering to meet your gaze. can this be considered a rejection? technically you didn’t confess but you admitted your “former” feelings which he immediately denied as if he doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. in response you can only quickly down your glass, hoping that the alcohol would somehow help you. (does making you feel worse count as help?) 

he continues without any effort, simply just brushing off your admission from just now. “i get along well with topaz and veritas.” the truth.

your eyes that were on his once also glance down at the table as you bury your nails into the tablecloth. “that’s the truth.” you manage to choke out, there’s no way you’re going to start getting all emotional now and start sobbing and weeping, instead you take a deep breath before continuing. 

“although it sometimes gives the impression that you don't get along with either of them and the three of you are just acquainted with one another through work, they trust you a lot and also somewhat get along with you. for an example when topaz entrusted you with her cornerstone during your mission on penacony or as mentioned before when veritas gifted you the critters. he thought you’d take a liking to them. perhaps you’re not friends but at least reliable colleagues that trust each other.” you answer as you continue to dig your nails deeper into the piece of fabric.

“i should’ve known that this was too easy for you.” aventurine chuckles as he drinks the vodka out of the glass, not leaving a single drop behind. “okay, it’s your turn again.”

you can only hum in agreement before speaking up. “i have a high alcohol tolerance.” a lie, a big one at that.

a honeyed laugh meets your ears, the sound of sweet laughter makes you glance up again. aventurine’s laughing. how sweet, bittersweet even.

there were nights when you were curled up in your sheets, wishing that there was someone beside you and not just a cold and empty mattress; wishing that there was aventurine who was laying by your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears as one of his arms is draped around your torso, tracing shapes onto your soft skin and tickling you. you’d push him away and laugh at which he could also only laugh. 

laugh like this; laugh like right now.

the delicate and tender moments you yearn for more than anything else are like birds, as soon as you get close to them, they get scared, they flutter their wings and quickly fly away. before you’d ever have a chance with aventurine he’d always be out of your grasp - out of your reach. 

he’s free on his own, not bound to anything and anyone. not having someone to rely on and someone whom he always needs to worry about. someone who’d keep him caged like a bird with little and restricted or rather no freedom.

“why are you laughing?” you shoot him an offended glare as you part your lips at him, a small pout decorating your face. “why are you sulking?” he responds in a teasing tone, it’s supposed to be light hearted but there’s care that glimmers in his eyes. great, does he care about you now?

“i  am not sulking!” you huff as you try to hide your expression from him, putting your arms down the dining table and burying your head in between them. 

“oh you so are!” he laughs lightly.

“shut up ‘rine!” you groan from where you’re laying.

“fine, fine.” if you were to look up at him now, you’d see him admiring you and fondly smiling while looking at the back of your head.

“my answer is that that's a lie. a blatant massive lie! you have a low alcohol tolerance and are basically a lightweight. i mean just look at your face, your cheeks are flushed and so are your ears, they’re literally beet red.” he chuckles. 

you get up from your lying position and greet him with an annoyed look. quickly you grab your glass and gulp everything down to the last bit, eventually you wipe away the remnants that cling onto your skin with your arm before pouring yourself another drink and laying back down, so now you’re back to your previous position. 

“well, it’s my turn again. because i started off with an easy one, i’ll also end it with a simple and really easy one. i have a shopping addiction.” a lie.

“lie! you yell from your place. “what kind of lie is that even?” you complain to him. 

“i told you i’d end it with an easy one. but can you also tell me why it’s a lie?” he asks curiously.

“you’re not too fond of spending credits on materialistic stuff, you use them to help out people who are in need. despite your job.”  the last part was muffled and intended for yourself only but you should’ve known that aventurine would hear it. “what was that?” despite my job?” he asks in amusement. “just forget it!” you groan.

“anyway you do that or buy cute toys for your critters. You prefer to keep your friends close with words, gestures and actions, not money.” you whisper.

“jackpot.” aventurine chuckles before proceeding to drink the vodka in his shot glass. now what will you surprise him with next?

“i still love you.” the truth.

in the past minute you gathered together several questions, statements, personal experiences in your head only to splurt out with this? the boldness came from the vodka, at least that’s what you try to tell yourself nevertheless you’re sure of one thing: alcohol definitely wasn’t a good idea.

“bold as always.” aventurine chuckles amusedly. “the truth.” he hums before standing up from where he was currently sitting, moving towards your side of the table and standing in front of you. you’re dizzy - lightheaded, but you try to look up to where he’s standing, with much effort you move your head into his direction, still lying on the table though. although you feel dizzy you’re able to make out a faint smile on his rosy lips. 

he opens his arms before wrapping them around your body, just like how you always longed. it’s unfair. even though vodka reeks, he doesn’t smell like it at all, rather it’s still his signature scent, a somewhat fresh note mixed with something sweet, the scent that you like so much. “sorry for being an ass before.” he hums as he looks down at your temple and carefully brushes the hair which covers your face, away.

i love you too. he wants to say, but he can’t. aventurine still can’t come to terms with himself and his love towards you. he doesn’t know how to voice it out loud or show it through actions. three simple words that he can’t say together, fearing that they’d be too intimate and wouldn’t seem sincere, especially in this scenario. 

but in all honesty, you’ve probably already caught on. you’re smiling like a lovesick idiot when you stare at him, but who wouldn’t, when aventurine is looking at you with an expression that says more than “i love you” ever could. 

you knew instantly, he too, was guilty. guilty of loving you.

hey girly hold still!!!! this is uhm yeah dedicated to @azullumi i'm not writing you a sappy not until i get mine!! THAT DOESNT CONSISIT OF ONLY BLANING ME FOR MY TYPSOS also childe does no wrong. ajax, you the boy who fell into the abyss, later on known as the 11th harbinger tartaglia whom we met in liyue and called himself childe and then turned out to be apart of the fatui and we also later on meet in other nations, azul loves you a lot!!

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[daemonsversion]

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

[papayadays]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

🎻 -> 81 and Oscar piastri?

a/n: sorry for taking so long! 😔 been busy with school but hope 1.6k oscar fic makes up for it <33

“holy mac ‘n cheese balls,” you said, gawking as you drove down the bend of road that lead to a modern-looking building. beside the road was a pond, with sunlight glittering over the surface.

“this is actually real,” your friend added, eyes also wide with awe. with shakier hands than you’d have liked to admit, you parked your car in the lot, both of you getting out and taking in the view. no, it wasn’t the louvre or some famous tourist attraction; in fact, it was something much better in your opinion.

the mclaren technology center, home of the mclaren formula 1 team. you and your friend were huge f1 fans, and mclaren was by far your favorite team. so, when you got an email saying that you had won the mtc tour courtesy of your mclaren plus membership, you two were ecstatic. jumping up and down while screaming levels of estatic. deciding to match, your friend wore her lando shirt and you wore your oscar merch.

at the door, an employee dressed in papaya was waiting for you, a smile on his face. “hi, i assume you’re here for the tour?”

you nodded, beaming. “yup! me and my friend.” you two were ushered inside, the sight of historic f1 cars making your eyes widen.

“i’m mateo, and i’m set to be showing you around,” the employee grinned. “but, since the f1 season is on break, we’re also joined by some special guests.” he glanced over your shoulder, and you turned around to see oscar piastri and lando norris walk over towards you two. holy shit, was this real? you were about to meet both mclaren drivers, your favorites, in person.

“hey, how are you?” oscar smiled at you two, sticking out his hand. you shook it, an awestruck expression on your face - you just shook oscar piastri’s hand, you were never going to wash it again - which you quickly masked. they were probably annoyed with how many people mooned over them, and you would too if you were in their position.

“good, how about you?” you responded, your friend squeezing your arm tightly.

oscar chuckled. “we’re doing good, looking forward to showing you around.”

mateo glanced at his phone before looking back at the drivers. “so, are you guys taking over? because i just got an email for a meeting?”

“yeah,” lando nodded. “we’re showing them around, i think.” mateo gave him a thumbs up and headed off, leaving you and your friend with the drivers.

“first off, what are your names?” oscar asked. you and your friend answered, still in shock that formula one drivers were learning your names.

oscar nodded, internalizing that information as lando clapped his hands together. “how long have you guys been mclaren fans?”

“as soon as we started watching f1, which was what- ten years ago?” you responded, your friend having the same experience as you.

oscar’s eyes widened as lando gave you two his signature smile. “perfect, we have loyal fans,” he said, amused. “c’mon, we’ll show you the cars first.”

your eyes immediately landed on the mp4/2 while lando was explaining something about the modern car to your friend. “so, you know your stuff, huh?” oscar remarked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“of course i do, it’s one of the most dominant cars in, y’know, the team’s history,” you chuckled. “i take fan duties very seriously.”

“i would expect no less,” the australian driver snorted, both of you turning your attention back to lando.

“…and that’s why the 2026 regs are similar to drs,” he finished, turning and walking down a bit more.

you glanced at the cars, fingers reaching out as if to touch it before pulling it back. you probably couldn’t mess with the cars. “it’s fine, you can touch it,” oscar said, amused. you placed your hand on the sidepod, awe sparking in you; you were touching an engineering masterpiece.

“thanks,” you whispered, though unsure of what you were thanking him for. “it’s beautiful.” oscar’s expression softened, smiling at you. as your attention shifted, you didn’t notice lando elbowing the younger driver with a shit-eating grin.

you stopped by mika haikkinen’s mp4-13, nodding appreciatively. “the first mclaren designed by adrian newey,” oscar commented, standing next to you as you admired the car.

nodding, you took a picture of the car, like you had been with all of the noteworthy cars. wanting to reference something from your uni engineering homework, you took it out of your bag, asking your friend something. you quickly sketched a small feature on your work, laying it flat on a nearby table while your pencil moved across the paper.

you hear oscar call out your name. “c’mon, they’re already moving ahead,” he told you and you followed him.

soon, you reached the more private rooms for debriefings and r&d before heading to the trophy cases. “whoa,” you breathed out, eyes scanning all the trophies.

“yup,” lando chimed proudly. “we’re a successful team. does that trophy ring a bell?” he pointed to the trophy from his maiden win in miami.

“obviously,” you laughed, recalling your glee that day. “that was a good race.” lando gave you a smug grin, clearly still reminiscent of that exciting may day.

you walked a little further, eyes drawn to the shiny silver baku trophy. hearing footsteps behind you, you turned your head slightly, papaya orange in your periphery. “how did it feel?” you asked softly.

oscar blinked for a second, not expecting that question. “it was um, definitely stressful while i was driving,” he responded. “but after, it was incredible. i was so happy.”

“i would think so,” you smiled. “it was a really good race, especially defence against leclerc.”

“thanks,” oscar nodded, brown eyes meeting yours. no, snap out of it, you thought to yourself as you glanced back at the trophy shelf, cheeks pink. oscar was a formula 1 driver. way out of your league, if he’d ever give you the chance in the first place.

“best story to tell our class later,” your friend commented, moving next to you.

“agreed,” you snorted. “i also need to show our profesor my revised drawings for-” you rummaged around in your bag, frowning. “where did my uni work go?”

“did you take it out here?” oscar asked, having clearly eavsdropped. you nodded, searching around the room.

lando looked around before pointing at you and oscar. “check the boulevard, we’ll check here,” he instructed. you listened wordlessly, turning and heading back the way you came, oscar on your heels.

you glanced at all the cars you stopped at, frustration growing as your work was nowhere to be found. “hey, it’s okay, we’ll find it,” oscar reassured you, surprising you slightly. his eyes drifted over your shoulder, brightening as he walked towards a little nook, grabbing the paper on the table. “oh, it was right here.”

your expression changed to one of shock, moving to stand next to oscar who was indeed holding your classwork. however, the australian driver wasn’t handing it back. “oscar?” you tried.

“huh? oh. sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing you the paper. “was just, um, intrigued by it. i used to take math and physics gcses at school.

you glanced up at him, amused, as he added, “it looks like good engineering.”

“thank you,” you chuckled, tucking the paper safely in your purse. “so you’re saying you juggled racing and gces?”

“a levels too,” oscar said, a faint smirk on his face that was not common of him.

“valid,” you laughed, walking side by side with him as you two made your way back to the others. “that must’ve been insane. school and racing?”

“it was…something,” oscar agreed. “though i’m not half as smart as you.” before you could respond, you were reunited with the others and lando was already talking.

“oh, osc, perfect!” lando beamed. “we’re gonna wrap up now and sign some merch for them. you guys both get signed drivers cards and a hat signed by both of us.”

your eyes widened with surprise; it just kept getting better. oscar pulled a sharpie out of thin air, seemingly. “do you want me to sign anything for you?” he asked.

“could you sign my shirt and hat?” you said, letting oscar write his signature. “thanks.”

“no problem,” oscar nodded, not working on signing your driver card. he handed it back to you, but your jaw dropped as you saw his number as well.

“oscar-” you were cut off as he unexpectedly grabbed your arm, pulling you two out of lando and your friend’s earshot.

“i wanted to give you my number and ask if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime,” he explained, slightly bashful. now your jaw was fully on the floor. “i just, i dunno, felt a flicker with you. i think you’re not like many other people i’ve met, and i really enjoy talking to you.”

you willed yourself not to start freaking out, not wanting to seem like a fangirl and scare him. “that’d be great, oscar. but, don’t you think you’re kinda out of my league?” you responded, making oscar blink in surprise.

“out of your league? if anything, i’m out of your league,” he replied. “i don’t care if you’re a fan rather than anyone else, i like talking to you.” and damn it, you didn’t really know what else to say to that.

“then yeah, i’d really like that,” you smiled. oh god, you were down bad already.

“me too,” oscar grinned, brown eyes meeting yours for the second time today.

taglist: @justaf1girl

[devildomwriter]

Here We Are As In Olden Days | Diavolo x Reader

.6K Word Count | GN! Reader | CW: broodmare kink mention, big family

You sat on the cushioned loveseat next to your husband of many years, flipping through a photo album of Christmas days past.

Diavolo smiled as you opened the book and the first page was the picture you’d snuck of him trying on a Christmas sweater because you thought it was cute. You had decorated the page with holiday stickers and wrote about how Diavolo quickly discovered the picture and had it printed for you as a joke gift.

As the pages flipped more memories rose to the surface. The first Christmas you’d spent as an exchange student. Santa had thrown out his back or something similar and you and the brothers scrambled to deliver gifts to the Devildom instead.

The second Christmas you’d spent when your personalities were drastically affected and you’d become a sadist. Diavolo had been very amused and Lsvitahn had been very turned on which kept distracting you from solving anything.

The third Christmas you spent the brother’s bodies has been taken over by strange little demons who you still had never identified. You had many pictures of them acting strangely and Diavolo posing in the background as chaos unfolded.

Your fourth Christmas in the Devildom when dark Santa had gone afoul and people began blaming Satan due to their names being similar. This was the same year Diavolo, Mephistopheles, and you helped deliver some gifts for Santa when his reindeer appeared in Mephistopheles’s yard.

Diavolo laughed at the memories as you continued to flip the pages. You shared what you remembered of those days long gone, and the sense of nostalgia was overwhelming.

Finally, you arrived at the most special of Christmases; the first one you’d spent together as a couple. Diavolo had made it as extravagant as possible.

The tree nearly hit the ceiling of the ballroom, every inch of the castle was decorated and even the staff had holiday-themed clothes. You’d felt bad for them at the time but it was a nice memory to look back on, seeing how much your future husband planned just so you’d be stress-free for the holidays.

You held Diavolo’s hand tightly in yours and flipped to the next year. In the photo, you sat posed in front of the camera in all your regalia. Diavolo had taken the throne that year and nothing was holding him back from spreading as much Christmas as he wanted to, so he’d called in professionals for a couple’s portrait of you in holiday-themed royal attire.

On the following page you had framed a Christmas postcard, the first family holiday card you’d sent to all your friends and family. You sat on Diavolo’s throne next to him as you both cradled your son, only a few months old.

As years past another child appeared and another and another again.

Diavolo hadn’t insisted on this many kids, you just happened to have a convenient broodmare kink and his DNA was incredibly strong. It just made every photo more interesting as everyone crowded into the photos.

You flipped more and more pages, memories piling up. Your children’s first Christmas. The first cards they’d made you. The postcards they’d sent you of their own families.

How many years had it been now?

The castle was never quiet but the sound of children running no longer echoed through the halls like it once did.

Everyone was grown with lives of their own and you and Diavolo remained as you originally did, side by side in each other’s arms.

You flipped to the last page of the album, the one you were still working on, and asked your husband for ideas.

He grinned and handed you two photos he’s been holding on to.

Unbeknownst to you, Diavolo had it arranged that the photo you took together this year was identical to the one you first took.

Despite all that time, you hadn’t much-aged thanks to your magic and his. It was funny seeing the two pictures side by side.

Despite all the changes over the years, it was evident in these photos that one thing would always remain the same—a merry Christmas with your prince.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

[vxperorchist]

What's yours is mine! (Cyno, Wriothesly, and Tartaglia x Fem! Reader)

Stealing clothes with Cyno, Wriothesly, and Tartaglia!

Genere: Fluff

Warnings: None!

This is my first time writing for Wriothesly and I don't find him attractive at all but the way he talks is kinda hot??

Cyno

Cyno doesn't have many clothes to steal to begin with. Majority of the clothes he owns are for work, and even then they are thick with protection or just articles to work with the protection.

He owns a little bit of casual wear but doesn't utilize it much as he is constantly on duty. The only time you'll really ever see him change out of his work clothes is when the two of you are getting ready to sleep, and he'll change over to more comfortable pants. (Shirts are overrated in his mind, but who are we to judge?) His lack of shirts is certainly not a complaint in your household.

He thought it was very amusing to see you in his clothes. You'd wear his sweatpants to sleep as you cuddled up next to him, and he couldn't help but smile. He'd make stupid remarks every time you wore them like; "Nice pants, I wonder where they came from." or "Where'd you get those pants?"

He thought it was funny, but he already lacked comfortable clothes, so he'd struggle at night to find clothes he could wear to sleep as you had took most of them.

He'd eventually start taking them back, and whenever he got new clothes he'd keep you in mind too. He loved seeing you do things around the house with his clothes on, whether it was a loose shirt or sweatpants you had found, he loved coming back to you to wrap his arms around the familiar frame that was now drowning in his clothes.

He'd became very fond of coming back home to you in his clothes, and he'd frown internally whenever you were back in your own clothes. Your own clothes with their specific fit looked great, but he couldn't help but love how his clothes didn't fit you right.

He loved the sight of you in his own clothes, it was one of many ways he could reassure himself that you were his. Maybe it was his twinge of possessiveness that had a part of him in a chokehold, but he couldn't get enough of it after a while.

Wriothesly

Casual wear king. He is known for being cooped up in his office for hours on end, and in the early morning hours or late at night, he is wearing something more comfortable.

He offers up his clothes to you whenever you are down in the fortress. You visit him every now and then, and unintentionally end up spending the night most of the times. Without hesitation, every time he is throwing his own clothes at you to sleep in or wear around.

He gets a kick out of it when you wear his clothes around the fortress as it is very obvious, they are his. He enjoys his subordinates asking about you and your outfit, which just happens to be his.

Who is anyone to judge down there? They're all criminals anyways.

When you return to the surface eventually, he'll be occupied looking for his clothes, which are now in your possession. He'll smile to himself knowing that his clothes are in your hands but won't hesitate to pay you a visit just to get them back. (Also get you back for taking his clothes)

Every now and then you would buy new clothes for him and send them down to the fortress, only for them to be taken back the next time you visit him. He won't stop you if you leave the fortress with his shirt on, even though you look ridiculous with the shirt that doesn't fit you very well. (He thought it was hot.)

Tartaglia

He's another one who is pretty constantly on duty and only changes over in the comfort of his house. Furthermore, when he is in his own house, he is all for sweatpants and some sort of large shirt.

He LOVES seeing you in his stuff. He will never miss an opportunity to give you a sweatshirt or shirt of his. He'll make sure it smells like him too, just so he knows the thought of him will linger with you.

He's also big on matching or similar outfits when he can. Whether it's just matching sleepwear or wearing similar outfits out in public, he adores it. Knowing he has some sort of physical correlation with you makes him smile.

I can very much see him being the type of person to own those red and black plaid pajama pants, and he's the type to get them for you as well.

It's a family tradition of his for his family to own matching pajamas around the holidays, and you are no exception in that tradition. There is a group photo with his family, (Including you) hung up in his family home with all of you in matching outfits.

When he has to leave for work, whether it be for a week, or even a long day, he'll leave you with some sort of clothing article of his, probably with an attached note either telling you he loves you, or to remind you he wants his clothes back at the end of the day.

[celestialprincesse]

Mustang 🌵🏜️

The morning after dinner with Simon, you sit patiently on your porch swing, a chipped mug of coffee clutched in one hand, a pen knife balanced between the fingers of the other. Fortunately, the mornings aren't yet sweltering enough to wake covered in sweat and kick off the thin sheet from your bed. The sun still rises languorously over the horizon, and you wake with it.

Simon Riley is surprisingly pleasant, and you begrudgingly admit to yourself that Marlene had been right, perhaps you do need to get out more, meet new people, get over it. Perhaps you like him because he's like you. He's quiet, peaceful on the surface, undoubtedly roiling underneath. It's impossible to miss when you know the feeling so well. Tyres crunching on gravel snap you from your reverie, the black truck, some shiny new ford pulling in your driveway, cab doors swinging open to let its driver out.

"Nice." An appreciative eyebrow is raised in the direction of the truck, amusement barely hidden at its cleanliness. You struggle to imagine him spending meticulous hours cleaning the vehicle - when you do picture Simon Riley shirtless and suntanned, working meticulously to rid the truck of dust and dirt, you internally chastise yourself before walking down the rickety porch steps to greet him. "You left your pot." His gruff accent feels so odd to you still, so out of place whilst still being so somehow pleasant, sending shivers down your spine. "Shit. So I did." The enamel of your Dutch Oven is cool against your hands, chilled from the AC in his car. Still not used to the warmth, you suppose.

"You want a drink?" You hum as you wordlessly make your way back up the porch steps, Ness nipping at your heels as you usher Simon and the collie into your cozy kitchen, quick to shut the screen door behind you. "I got sweet tea, coffee, lemonade." "You got earl grey?" "Do I look like the type to have earl grey?" "Black coffee then, please."

Ness seems to like him. Good judge of character, you think. You hope. Maybe she likes him because of how similar he is to you, and you can't help but appreciate the newcomer as he pets the bicoloured ears of your pet. Your place is exactly how he pictured it'd be, cozy in a lived in sort of way, knickknacks scattered across the countertops and shelves and the occasional picture of what he can only assume is you as a kid strewn haphazardly. The coffee maker whirs quietly to life as you busy yourself with retrieving a plate of biscuits from the fridge, chucked in there to avoid the occasional fly that managed to get through the screen in the rushed moments where you failed to close it all the way.

"Biscuit?" "Just coffee is fine." "Your loss." You quip back, putting the plate back in its rightful place, by which time the coffee has brewed and you pour Simon a chipped mug full. "So, the fastback." Simon manages a little awkwardly, dwarfing your mug between his palms. "Ah, the elephant in my garage." The crappy joke makes you actually cringe, eyelid twitching as you angle your head back to the door, making your way to the garage, in which you pull the cover from the red painted mustang with an awkwardly executed flourish.

Upon assessing the car, Simon grunts out a quiet "Shit", turning to you with an almost concerned look. "You pay for this?" It seems weirdly as though he's mad, like anyone who charged you for this useless hunk of metal and rubber had committed some kind of sin, like they'd kicked a puppy or shunned god away. "No. No, guy said if I could fix it up it was mine." "Good. Cause it's worth fucking naught."

Simon spends the morning tinkering with the car. Pushes it out of the garage with pure brute strength so that he can look at it properly, says he'll fix your garage light whilst he's at it. When he appears at the kitchen door like a lost dog, cautious to shut the screen door, he can't help but appreciate the way you turn to face him, leaning the swell of your hip against the countertop. "The biscuit offer still open?" "You're fixing my shitty car and you already looked at my garage light. At this point I owe you more than just biscuits." You chuff.

The veteran can't help himself but to ogle your ass as you bend in front of your fridge to retrieve the biscuit plate, along with a jug of sweet tea and two chilled glasses.

"Prepared." "Ah, figured you'd get thirsty at some point."

There's something pleasant about the quiet of it all. Reminds him why he moved out here in the first place. The quiet nicker of horses and the sight of a beautiful woman making him lunch after spending hours out in the unforgiving heat. It makes him feel weirdly grateful, something he hasn't felt in a while. He's at your side as you rustle up some other food, something more substantial for a man of his size who's just spent four hours in the steadily boiling heat. He likes the way you don't flinch when a tentative arm slips around your waist to grab the glasses you'd set out on the counter, moving them to the table before returning to press his shoulder against yours.

"Need me to do anythin' else?" "Just stand there and be hot." Slips out before you can stop yourself, and your hand flies to cover your mouth, all whilst he stands, massive arms crossed against his chest with a smug. "Yes, Ma'am."

ᯓ★

Today felt like such a good day to write these two I promise I didn't forget about them!! I love them!! They're my emotionally wounded babies!!!

[kuroshika]

[ sorbet, 01×07 - long analysis below the cut. ] || [ tags: @lesbian-hannibal @shatteredlesbian @7x16pm ] || [ tumblr has refused to post this twice now and im giving up after this attempt. ]

—————

this episode, we're introduced to franklyn. he seems like a one-off side character who introduces us to the next villain, but his character seems to be a little bit more than that. he's eager to be hannibal's friend, and the rejection he feels when hannibal pushes those professional boundaries is a reflection of hannibal's actions towards will.

franklyn finds hannibal interesting. he thinks they'd be great friends, and is actively trying to form a relationship. this is a direct mirror of how hannibal feels about will — he finds will interesting, and thinks they'd be great friends, so he's actively trying to push will's professional boundaries. this rejection that franklyn feels is the same that hannibal feels.

hannibal's pause and redirection here is interesting. though he may not be getting paid for will's visits, it definitely might be sad to think that will is only seeing him as mandated - it makes hannibal upset that will sees him only because he has to (as shown when poor hannibal sits in his office and pouts when will is late for his session near the end of the episode).

he has intimate knowledge of will, and wants to be his friend because of it - an opposite (but reflection) of franklyn's attempts to be his friend. looking at franklyn, speaking to him, is sort of like speaking to himself. franklyn seems to be a less fine-tuned version of hannibal.

"tobias is my best friend, but i am not tobias's best friend". this sounds pretty similar to our weak relationship with will — hannibal sees will as his friend, will doesn't see hannibal as his friend, and will did take a higher interest in the ripper (and by extension, hannibal). i think here is where hannibal begins to realize the parallel between franklyn and tobias's relationship, and his and will's, as observed by the question he asks. "have you put him on a pedestal?"

in recognizing the reflection of the relationship he's chasing with will, hannibal is using his own therapy for himself - things make more sense when you tell someone else about them, out loud. he can help himself under the guise of helping franklyn if all goes to plan - and it does. franklyn agrees that he does, but also that he (and tobias) hold hannibal on a higher pedestal.

"i am a source of stability and clarity, franklyn, not your friend". this is the first time in the show hannibal adamantly refuses that he's someone's friend. he does the chasing, not the running. having such a reflection approach him to further their already precarious relationship is nothing but a problem.

franklyn assures him that he'd be a great friend, before swiftly changing the subject. the michael jackson tangent seems kinda kooky, and i skipped over it on my first watch-through, but i think i can make some deeper connections now. "you know what i think makes me the most sad about him dying? i will never get to meet him". ever since hannibal was introduced to will (or, rather, the exterior of his mental curtains), he's known there was something lurking beneath the surface. he's taken it as his mission to draw whatever will hides behind those curtains out, to see underneath his mask — to show him his becoming (as referenced in 1×05 "coquilles", when the angel maker tells will "i couldn't bring it out of you," to which will agrees "not all the way" (which feels like a callback to 1×02 "amuse-bouche", when hannibal only manages to draw will out half-way and have him admit that he enjoyed killing hobbs), and the angel maker offers "i can give you your becoming".). hannibal knows that the longer he waits to approach will, the closer the shadow behind the curtains comes to being repressed completely — the closer it comes to dying, in hannibal's mind, dying before he can meet him.

franklyn obviously has a savior complex, yet another reflection of hannibal — as shown in his prolific identity as a surgeon, and his tableaus as the ripper. his words are very familiar to hannibal, who feels that if will allows him to be his friend, he could stop him from killing part of himself. hannibal can see the correlation and prompts him on gently — how is franklyn's efforts returned? how will his own be returned?

franklyn's fantasy ends with him being the one to touch greatness, very much how hannibal's ends with him getting close to will — whom he already knows is great. he gets to be the one who draws will out into the light, he gets to be the one who sees will for who he truly is. he gets to touch greatness.

skipping over bedelia and hannibal's visit (mostly because i have a longer analysis for that scene and im already rambling), we cut to hannibal and will.

here we have hannibal, yet again, asking if they're friends. usually, will is unhesitant in assuring him they aren't, but here, it's a little different. he's gotten too familiar with whatever relationship he and hannibal have, and that part of him behind the curtains strains for more. if he says they are, there's a sense of intimacy that will isn't prepared for (especially not with someone he can't feel). if he says they aren't, however, he feels like he'll lose that sense of codependency they have. hannibal won't need him, won't want his company any longer (though it's reassured in 1×08 "fromage" that he appreciates his company). he'll be a professional curiosity— the same thing he is to alana (as, again, instated in 1×08).

so, instead he says yes to both. in agreeing that their relationship is not professional (and establishing their friendship), will is avoiding that sense of intimacy that comes with being someone's friend while still profiting off of their codependent relationship.

will reasserts control of the conversation by assuring that they're just having conversations. hannibal has been established as will's friend, and asserts himself as will's friend here — by repeating that he is a friend, and reminding will that the two share an intimate bond that has begun to blur the line between friendship and family.

whether will likes it or not, he's established that he's hannibal's friend. he's already intertwined with hannibal in a way that no one else is — he can feel the ripper strain under hannibal's person suit (or, as bedelia more aptly calls it this episode, his veil). he can sense what hannibal is, and part of him wants to get closer and wrap itself around whatever lays beyond the veil. i think this scene also offers the tipping point for hannibal's qualms about murdering franklyn — they are nothing alike anymore. will is his friend. the chase is over. he cannot help himself by helping franklyn - his death will be no loss.

[neteyamslovrr]

Hey there! I’ve been reading some of your five and I was wondering-

Could you maybe write a fic about Neteyam falling in love with a Metkayina girl- thinking she’s beautiful but doesn’t know how to say it to her so he asks Tsireya and y/n overhears and misunderstands, thinking he’s in love with Tsireya instead of her :)

I love your writing by the way- so much 💙

Misunderstood

summary: neteyam asks for advice from tsireya to confess to you, however, you misunderstand thinking he loves tsireya

2k words, fem!metkayinareader

──── ⑅*��*⑅ ────

Three months. It truly didn’t feel like you had known Neteyam for three short months. It felt like you had known him for eternity. Like souls reconnecting in the ever-continuing circle of life. You felt at peace being with him, his presence was grounding, his words were hymns and his beauty was breathtaking.

The first time you felt this connection towards him was in the first couple weeks of knowing Neteyam. You were both swimming in the crystal water, watching the passing aquatic life. His eyes were wide full of amazement, it was endearing to see someone so enthralled in something you knew as normal.

It was when you looked away for a moment to go and interact with a school of small glowing fish that called your name. You let them swim around you some of the fish even swimming towards your face to give what most resembled a kiss on the cheek. Letting out small giggles you told the fish to move onto their next step on their ever long journey of the sea, and you spotted him.

You spotted him gazing into you, his eyes soft and his mouth in a small smile as he just observed you. Your cheeks immediately heated up, so you immediately broke eye contact with Neteyam to swim to the surface of the water, to regain a little composure. That was the day your eye was forever set on Neteyam Sully.

Unbeknownst to your own mind, it was also the day where Neteyam’s eyes were set on you, both figuratively and literally. He was itching to tell you how he felt. His body, his mind, his heart ached when you weren’t in his presence. Even a glimpse of you was enough for him to feel content, he needed you and he craved you.

He thought it was best to ask the girl who knew you the most for advice. Tsireya. Your best friend since childhood, inseparable, always attached by the hip. Who else would he ask in a time like this. If he was gong to confess to you, he was going to do it right.

That’s how he ended up here. Sitting across from Tsireya sitting on a rocky ledge a short walk from the village, blindly blurting his feelings towards you in an affectionate word storm to a amused Tsireya.

“My you do really like Y/N.” She laughed at his face. Sort of similar to a ‘nuh duh’ expression mixed into a ‘I’m on my knees please help me’. It was incredibly amusing for her to watch, especially since she knew about how much you fancied him. “You should just tell her! I promise it will not go sour.” She put a friendly hand on his shoulder patting it in a comforting way.

“But that’s the problem, I have no idea what to say. There’s no possible way that I could ever be cohesive enough to truly tell Y/N how I feel.” Tsireya clapped her hands together, an idea hitting her.

“Close your eyes, and pretend I am Y/N. Try and think of every word carefully and imagine saying it to her.” Neteyam nodded sucking in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

You were on a stroll down the beach, something you made habit since you were young. The evening sky always made you aw. It was a lovely sight to see.

Your focus on the setting sky was drawn away abruptly when you saw two figures sitting on a ledge together. Two familiar figures, Tsireya and Neteyam.

You tried to push down the slight feeling of jealousy crawling up your throat. It was Tsireya, you have nothing to be jealous of.

Walking towards them close enough to hear their conversation. You wish you didn’t investigate, you wish that you weren’t so curious, you should’ve stayed out of it.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever come across… you make my heart flutter when your around and ache when you’re not in front of me. Your hair, your eyes, your smile they’re all just so beautiful. I can’t go another minute without you by my side.”

His voice rung through your head, like a sickening thought that you try to shake away. The pain in your heart spread throughout your body debilitating you or your mind at least. Lips quivering, hands shaking you couldn’t believe this.

Did you mean nothing to him? Was every glance, every word, every touch not worth a thing to him? Gutted, stabbed in the heart as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper into you. You had to escape, you had to leave. You could never look at him again, never talk, never speak to him. Ever.

Heavy breaths and teary eyes. A permanent frown and small sobs. That was all you were right now. You felt hopeless, useless. No. you felt used, lied to.

How could he be so fake, was he always plotting to use your heart like a toy or was he blind to his actions. Blind to the way you looked at him. Blind to the way you touched him. Blind to the way you loved him. The way you fucking loved him.

Livid. Angry. Outraged.

Upset. Depressed. Hurt.

The cycle continued that entire night. How could you sleep? Your mind was cruel to not let go of the way his confession sounded. Sobs wracked through your ribs. Tears stained your face. You wanted nothing more than to escape the thought of him. But how could you do that? You loved him.

Waking up the next day was torturous, the sun pierced your eyes as your head throbbed in pain. You had to avoid him at all costs. You would never talk to him again. You didn’t care if you were his friend, he was your love and quite frankly you didn’t want to look him in his deceitful eyes. Ever. Again.

Your absence took an immediate toll on Neteyam. He noticed your absence like you’d notice a fish in a desert. He wondered what you were busy doing all day long. Not even spotting you once throughout the day.

He wasn’t too worried though, he knew Tsireya, and the rest of his siblings were meant to have another swimming lesson today, and you always tagged along. Neteyam tried to knock the worried feelings out of his chest, you must just be busy.

However, you were anything but busy. You laid in your hammock all day, barely moving a muscle. Depression? Maybe that’s what it was, but it wasn’t. It was heartbreak. Heartbreak so painful it was as if your heart was a fresh wound, bleeding out, begging for assistance.

You knew you were meant to go to a lesson with Tsireya today. But she could handle it, I mean she had been handling Neteyam’s feelings all by herself so why shouldn’t she be able to teach the stupid lanky boy to swim. Just more reason for him to talk to her.

Even thinking about the two together made you tear up. How pathetic you felt, moping in a hammock over a stupid forest boy. You felt stupid. No. You knew you were stupid. Thinking that Neteyam could ever like you with a beauty like Tsireya by your side constantly. You were idiotic to think that anyone would look your way.

The moment the lesson started without you Neteyam’s heart pounded. Where were you? His mind raced with concern, worry lacing his features as he frowned barely able to compute the instructions Tsireya and Ao’nung were giving him.

“Guys, where’s Y/N?” Neteyam asked his eyes scanning the shore constantly to check if you were just late.

“I saw her in her hammock today while walking back home. I don’t think she’s really moved since.” Ao’nung shrugged watching Neteyam’s concern growing stronger.

Was something troubling you? Were you sick? Why didn’t you confide in him?

“Did you speak to her?” His voice sharp and laced with fear. He needed to see you, he needed to check on you.

“I tried … asked her if she was alright and she grumbled at me and told me to fuck off. She’s in a really pleasant mood today.” Ao’nung joked at the end but before anyone could even chuckle at his joke, Neteyam was sprinting towards where you resided.

Neteyam was worried, he was so incredibly worried. What plagued you so much that you couldn’t even bare to get up all day.

You swung side to side, your headache and hunger forming together to create a nauseous feeling that you couldn’t even be bothered to remedy. That’s when your nauseous feeling became overwhelming and only because you saw a panicking Neteyam stride towards you at an alarmingly fast pace.

If you weren’t motivated to move before, now you were. You hopped off your hammock making eye contact with Neteyam. You wished you could of walked just slightly fast but the fatigue of moping around doing nothing really hit you.

“Y/N! Wait!” He shouted just a couple strides away from you but you didn’t want to face him, you couldn’t even get out a word because you were scared your voice would turn into a angry fit of sobs.

You walked so fast that if you sped up more it would be considered a jog. “Stop walking away from me!” He shouted catching up to you. Wrapping his nimble fingers around your wrist. You stopped dead in your tracks refusing to look at the man holding you.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

The venom in your tone may have smashed Neteyam’s heart just then. Millions of splinters of his heart cascading across the floor.

“What’s wrong Y/N? What’s upset you so much?” A scoff erupted from your throat, a scoff making Neteyam wince at the way your face hardened into an unforgiving stare.

“I’m not sure Neteyam.”

 He hated how you said his name with such anger, he didn’t want to make you angry.

“For some crazy reason I have this monologue stuck in the depths of my mind… it goes something along the lines of. ‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever come across.’ ‘You make my heart flutter when your around and ache when you’re not in front of me.’ Does it sound familiar to you Neteyam? Because I’m sure Tsireya would recognise it.”

His mind suddenly pieced together. You thought those words were meant for Tsireya. You thought he confessed to your best friend. You thought that he didn’t love you.

“No Y/N please listen.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. The sight of you makes me want to cry.”

“But Y/N please you have to understand.” He held onto your hands desperately. Eyes filling with water as he looked down at your quivering lips. He’d really fucked this one up.

“Understand what Neteyam. Understand that you never liked me?”

“No, I never liked you.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears that ran down your face. You didn’t exact want confirmation that he didn’t like you. The feeling of betrayal seemed to rack in your chest quickly, and stronger than ever.

“Y/N… I love you. I love you so much. I see you.” His hands moved from your hands to wipe the tears off your swollen face. The guilt of making you cry bubbled in his ribs making his eyes start to run as well.

“But you said-”

“Tsireya was giving me advice on how to confess to you. I wanted it to be perfect, I wanted to kiss you as eclipse started and wake up the next morning knowing you were mine and I was yours. But it doesn’t seem to be going in that direction.” Neteyam listened to the small sniffles you let out as your face contorted into a soft smile.

“I see you.” Three simple words. Simple words that conveyed the monsoon of emotions you had faced in the past couple days.

Three simple words that let Neteyam have the courage to kiss you. To kiss you so softly that every ounce of love he had for you poured into you.

While it wasn’t the perfect confession Neteyam was planning, he still got what he wanted, what he needed.

And all he needed was you.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: i LOVED this request and got carried away. tried to make it a wee bit angsty

[bellewintersroe]

okay i'm glad! then i'm sending this in if you ever get back in a BoB mood, but no pressure :)

can i request headcanons on how some of them would react (i was thinking mainly Liebgott, Roe and Speirs, but absolutely feel free to add anyone you want too like Luz or Malarkey) if the Easy company gets dispatched in a town near the sea/has to sleep in a beach or similar, and the sweet and kind nurse that is always dispatched with the second battalion (who everyone is crushing on ofc hahaha) as soon as all the high ranks are gone just, takes off her uniform (so she is like in her bra and underwear) and just bolts it towards the sea, calling for the others to join her and play around in the water, because she just loves the sea that much?

i just thought something fun and light could be cute, since the boys definitely need some fun time :)🫶🏻

heyyyy omg so sorry it’s taken so long to reply but thank you thank you thank you for your request! I love this idea sm!! I have altered it slightly to make it more realistic (don’t ask why cos I bend the rules all the time) but I hope these head cannons are okay!!! &lt;3 <3 <3 <3

Band of Brothers x Nurse!Reader Headcannons

General HC’s for 2nd battalion + some more men reacting to their well loved nurse having some fun in the water.

So first let me set the scene, you’ve all just been told you’re being shipped back off to the pacific and morale has somewhat dropped again.

theres so much anxiety snd tension in the air that nobody really can unwind, so after one particularly gruelling training session, 2nd battalions nurse decides to have a little fun…

It’s a boiling hot day in Austria, the lake looks so inviting, and she’s such a sweetheart she just wants to boost morale. All the men absolutely adore her, if they don’t have a crush on her they find her endearing and a comfort to them.

“fuck it.” She mutters, stripping off her uniform as she runs closer to the pier, dropping each piece of clothing behind her.

One by one all the men’s heads turn and then suddenly begin whooping and whistling in excitement. Joe Liebgott:

Stunned to see you stripping off, in fact he remains frozen with his jaw dropped for a few moments. He’s so used to seeing you all covered up and oh my god boobs.

“Close your trap, Joe, you’re trapping flies.”

wouldn’t take much convincing to get in, I think he’d be super playful with you, splashing you and dunking you.

deffo splashes you a little too much, but when you’d jump on his back and he feels the press of your boobs against his bare back- uhhhh his brain turns to mush.

“It’s so nice, isn't it Joe?”

“Uh- yeah, so nice…” deffo gets a boner.

Eugene Roe:

Maybe a lil different scenario, I feel like if there was a group of you he’d probably sit on the side watching and laughing in amusement.

he’d watch you strip off and immediately avert his eyes out of respect but ohmygodogogososo he’s blushing- he hasn’t seen a woman like that for years.

you’re already super close, so to be able to have downtime together creates something more… intimate.

if you’d jump in at the end of the day, the sun setting when it’s just the two of you I don’t think it would take much convincing to for him to get in the water.

you’d float further back from the surface with a smirk as he undressed, jumping in and purposefully splashing you.

would be a little more shy, especially if there’s more men around, but the second you joke about how he might need to give you cpr and the kiss of life he’s smirking and acting all cool and omg.

his hands would snake lower and lower down onto your butt and everybody would be none the wiser around you guys if there was others there.

who knew Roe could be such a flirt?

Ron Speirs:

Now this guy being your literal superior probably wouldn’t linger around to see you, 2nd battalions own nurse, strip off to go for a swim whilst all the horny men giggle like children from the land.

he’d deffo know he had to be more respectful, but let’s change the time a little, it’s just after the German army surrendered, you’re both wasted.

Rob asks you like ‘so what were you doing in the water the other day?’

You’d tell him in return you were just having some fun and he should’ve tried it. Ron, in a celebratory mood, and captivated by how fucking beautiful you are just thinks ‘fuck it’ and makes the decision to go on a ‘walk’.

You end up pushing each other into the water.

for a moment you’re probs shocked that this is literally Captain Speirs you’re swimming with, but things get… heated and there’s no time to think about being intimidated.

you’d deffo probs have the hottest, spontaneous sex with him in the water lmaooo.

George Luz:

You just know this man would be the first one to jump in with you OMG.

he’d be so excited like finally, somebody’s just as fun as he is…

Probs like that kid on holiday that takes it too far and dunks you to the point you’re so out of breath.

I feel like you two would physically play fight to playfully drowning each other. Would be chaos central and anybody who tried to come near you would get a face-full of water.

Don’t be surprised if you wake up the next day with bruises.

kinda sweet tho, you’d lay on the beach together the same night and he’d be all sweet, apologising and checking he didn’t take it too far?

Don Malarkey:

Everybody knows Don needs this time to unwind and just have some fun.

for the first time in months he feels more like himself, the two of you already have a very close bond so it makes you both so mutually happy to the see the other so care free.

I think he’d be laughing like crazy, probably throwing you off the dock and then jumping in after you, cos even tho he’s playing around he doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

would happily shove any of the other men in the water so that the two of you are left standing on the land together.

When he see’s you in your wet bikini oh my godddd- his brain turns to mush and he practically avoids even making eye contact with you he’s that nervous.

when you sit on his lap later that evening he’s done for.

he’s a little stunned cos you’re always so sweet and innocent… but it feels like a dream come true for Malarkey.

[aforestescape]

ghoap x gn!reader

inspired by soaps mic collar. id love to make that man whimper. also i’m a simon lover at heart if you didn’t know:)

you’re all a few drinks in at the pub, listening to simon bicker on with kyle about some reality show they’d been watching. curtesy the influence of introducing them to your cousins who loved a snarky drama show. if you knew it would have led to heated conversations while you’re busy trying to get drunk, you probably wouldn’t have done it.

you and john share a look of stilted amusement before taking another gulp of your drink. eyes fleeting over the crowded bar until they land on johnny up at the counter. one well defined arm leaned against the counter, far too big for the tight shirt he’s sporting. that award winning grin on his face as he chats with some bloke next to him. you keep your eyes on them, taking a drink again to wash away the feelings that try to surface.

you were the newest addition to the group. somehow you’d ended up staying along with the four men. it wasn’t something you were used to, team dynamics. sticking to one place for so long to actually find yourself enjoying the company of your teammates. you’d always been an expendable asset. more of a freelancer to help assist other teams missions from the sidelines. but you’d found it hard to want to leave after the months long mission you’d been assigned to with 141.

you’d always been intuitive and from the moment you first met them all you could feel something settling inside of you. a small inkling in the back of your mind that you had time to get used to these people. so when the assignment ended and you sat across from price in his office going over last minute paperwork you couldn’t find yourself regretting agreeing to another mission with them.

the added bonus to the camaraderie, the playful banter and dynamics that felt closer to family than that of coworkers was just how attractive they were. simons cold indifference was similar to you in some ways, it’s the type of men you’d gone for in the past. ones who’s shells needed to be slowly cracked open before you could get a glimpse of what might be inside. it was all too easy to give dry laughs back to his terrible dad jokes. to make sure you kept your voice low when you talked to him, fingers moving in rusty form to talk back with him.

he didn’t like speaking. he could, of course. he had to when they were out on the field, during the times when they had to go, go, go with enemies right down the corridor, chasing them down. but when they were back on base, even on nights like tonight he’d be quiet for so long his voice would be hollower than normal when he finally spoke.

and you couldn’t possibly not have noticed the way he looked at johnny. their dynamic felt untouchable to you. how easily they fell into kilter with each other. the way simons eyes always tracked the mohawked man had your eyes following along. wanting to catch a glimpse of the man he saw. maybe a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have understood so much why his gaze felt like it could burn you in proximity.

but now you could. you’re sure your gaze burned just as hard as your eyes stayed on johnny.

johnny was smart, no denying it. he was analytical and loved to run probabilities with you. on the days following your post mission you’d end up sitting next to each other and he’d ask your thoughts on the people passing by. you figured he only sat still long enough because you entertained him as he quickly divulged into ramblings on how the stranger walking by was running late to his meeting since he found the missus’ with the neighbor. he supported her though since the guy was obviously a wanker, look at his scarf.

it’s not until he’s back at the table, drink in hand that he got for free and grinning at you that you decide that professionalism isn’t enough to stop you from what you want. he takes his seat next to you, thick thighs brushing yours as he goes off on a story about what just happened with the guy. you suppose it might be funny because the rest of the group laugh at what he says but your eyes are glued to his neck.

ignoring the rest of the group you lean over to him slightly, cold fingers from touching your drink grazing his neck as you touch the black leather choker round his neck. fingertips slipping past the fabric to hook it in your grasp before tugging on it.

“you like being collared johnny? why’re you still wearing this.”

your eyes track the swallow of his adams apple, trailing up to catch his tongue swipe over his lips and the blue of his eyes.

“can’t take it off myself,” he says, voice quieter than normal. you raise an eyebrow, mind processing as simon picks up to respond.

“i’ve got the key. you wan’ him you’ll have to ask nicely.”

wrote this a while ago but i wasn’t happy with it so it sat in my drafts. i had a passing in my family recently so my post are probably going to be even more sparse soz

[naffeclipse]

I love how similar yet different Blackwater lure Eclipse and Naga SJ!Eclipse are.

They both become obsessed with photographer y/n after they see y/n appreciate nature, they both are technically alone due to certain circumstances (if SJ Eclipse had cut off his relations with his brothers in this AU as well), and they both want y/n’s attention.

However, Naga SJ Eclipse was the reason he lost his companionship with his family (again if we are using some of the original Sleuth Jester story), while BL!Eclipse is alone because of circumstances outside of his control (if I’m getting apex polarity’s lore correct. I’m still very behind due to school and work but have been trying to keep up with the outside lore snippets).

Additionally, Naga SJ Eclipse’s “admiration” of photographer y/n does not mean they won’t get hurt. In fact, it’s likely what causes them to be hurt by Naga SJ because he associates love with his violent tendencies (i.e. bruising y/n and threatening them). BL!Eclipse admires y/n but is against hurting them and instead chooses to try and engage y/n in their work and gift them with things such as food and showing them amazing places.

Anyways, I think if both Blackwater Lure and Naga SJ Eclipses existed in the same universe they would have an extremely intense rivalry with them both being obsessive over y/n and Blackwater Lure not being happy with SJ hurting y/n.

Oh ho, these two would hate each other's guts not least due to them both claiming the photographer. Neither are okay with sharing, either.

SJ and BL follow their OG counterparts with issues and relations, so both are alone, possessive, and very, very territorial. You're correct to point out how they contrast and mirror each other regarding Y/N.

BL!Eclipse grabs Y/N to take them to a beautiful clearing in the river where the water runs clear and every arapaima fish appears under the glittering surface. SJ!Eclipse grabs Y/N to force them to listen when he is, once again, monologing about what they will do for him once they understand that he is all they need.

BL!Eclipse takes Y/N's camera to carefully look at each photo before giving it back. SJ!Eclipse takes Y/N's camera with the threat of keeping it or breaking it. BL!Eclipse coils around Y/N to make them take a nap with him after seeing how tired they look. SJ!Eclipse coils around Y/N to ensure they can't run while he pokes their cheeks and tugs on their hair at his amusement. You can imagine how the list goes on.

If SJ Naga Eclipse exists in the same jungle as BL Eclipse, it would essentially boil down to who can get rid of who first, and once BL Eclipse learns who's been marking his photographer with bruises... It would not be pretty.

Also this—

Y/N: oh hey, you're back early

BL!Eclipse: jungle's haunted

Y/N: what?

BL!EClipse: *loading a pistol and slithering back into the trees* jungle's haunted

[bbyquokka]

my soul mate is my cat

pairing: lee minho x gender-neutral reader

genre: angst with a comfort ending – MDNI

synopsis: you adopt a cat to help ease the pain realising he is similar to someone you once held close to you

warnings: animal adoption, mental health, loneliness, unable to care for oneself, soft ending, soul mates, reincarnation

words: 1.7k ~ (1,704)

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“why don't you adopt a cat!” you look up at your best friend and laugh.

“a cat?” you scoff. “seriously?”

your best friend nods and grins before taking a sip of their spirit. you're both out on a best friend date, eating at a local café whilst catching up on life.

“why not? cats are easy to take care off!” 

“i can hardly look after myself let alone an animal.” you chuckle softly.

“oh c'mon yn! are you not lonely since.. well, y'know..” you swallow as your best friend trails off. you let out a sad sigh as you look down at your pastry, suddenly feeling nauseous and the pastry looking unappetizing.

you have noticed that the days are long but the nights are even longer. since being alone, your apartment has felt twice the size of what it usually is. you haven't become lazy per say but the appeal of washing dishes and doing laundry just drains you the more you think about it, causing a pile to build and build until it becomes unmanageable. everything just reminded you of him, of minho. you hated being in the same four walls for that exact reason but you feared that if you left, you’d forget so you willingly trapped yourself.

you'd worry you'd forget about his smell. how he sounded. how he dressed. you still have all his belongings, scared and refusing to throw them out or give them away. every item of clothing still holds his scent, that scent that brings you so much comfort yet such sadness. everything of his still sits on your dressing table. photos, trinkets, dried up flowers, expired amusement park tickets–they're all memories.

nothing has quite been or felt the same. you went from being incredibly loved and being in love by an amazing and wonderful human to feeling nothing. just an empty shell walking and breathing. the only reason you are out right now is because your friend practically barged into your home unwelcomed, forced you to get dressed and dragged you out.

you can't deny that it feels nice to be outside again. the wind on your skin, the chirps of the birds and the buzz of pedestrians however, that part of you just wants to go home and bury yourself under heaps of blankets.

“c'mon yn. i think it'd be good for you. if not, at least think about it.” 

and think about it you do. as you wander around your apartment, all you can think about is a cat wandering around your home. maybe having a fluffy companion would do you some good. maybe it would bring you back and light that spark that's been extinguished.

the more the think about it, the more you want it. a sudden burst of energy rips through your body as you clean up your home. putting laundry in the machine, cleaning up dishes and throwing away trash. you bleach and disinfect every surface in your home, scrubbing until you can see your reflection in the counter tops. 

once that was done, you venture off to the pet store to grab the necessities. cat tree, scratching post, food and water bowls, litter box and litter alongside some food, treats and toys. maybe you overspent and the cat wouldn't use half of what you bought but it's better to be safe than sorry.

you made sure you home is cat friendly, feeling like you're baby proofing the apartment. you tuck away any loose cables, hide anything that could be potentially swallowed and cause harm. you haven't even decided if you want a cat or a kitten but either way, you will know once you come face to face with the animals.

“hi. i'm looking to adopt a cat.” you say to the shelter worker. you walked to your local shelter knowing it's better to adopt than to shop. they smile at you before asking you some questions and filling out some paperwork before leading you to the kennels.

there, you see a whole array of animals. puppies, kittens, dogs, cats. some old, some new. some frightened and some jumping all over the place with excitement. your heart melts but at the same time drops. seeing all these animals in kennels that have been abandoned and are waiting for their forever home, makes you wish you could just scoop them all up and take them home.

but for now, you can only pick one.

as you walk along the kennels, cooing and sighing at the adorable faces of the many breeds of dogs and cats, do you stop at one in particular.

you squat down as the cat stands from its resting place, uncurling itself and stretching out its stale limbs. it's a black, long coat cat with white around it's paws making it look like it's wearing socks. a little white moustache and white chest with long whiskers and pointy ears with tuffs of fur at the tips.

“hi.” you whisper as you put your hand up close to the metal. the cat sniffs your fingers, its pink nose twitching with each sniff before headbutting and rubbing its head on the bars. you stroke the back of its neck gently, heart melting as it starts to purr loudly.

“i want this one.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it's been a few weeks since you adopted the cat, who's name is lee. lee was wary at first, hiding in the bathroom and nervous of its new surroundings and new noises. you spent time sitting outside the bathroom door trying to gently coax him out of the bathroom and let him know that he is safe.

soon enough, he gingerly stepped out off the bathroom, rubbing his head and body on your legs and hands as he would beg for attention. once lee knew he was safe did he show you his true side.

you learnt that he is a very playful yet stubborn cat. you'd catch him on the counter top (or even on top of the fridge) every time you tell him down, he would look at you and groom himself. you can't do anything about it though; he's a cute cat!

as you both slowly get accustomed to one another do you start to notice traits; traits that are all to familiar to you.

the slow blinks, the stubbornness, the playfulness. how he would meow at you when asking specific questions. the head tilts and the sudden swat of his paw on your hand; it's hard to explain to others but to you, you just know

it's a feeling you're all too familiar with. it's habits and traits you know far too well. you didn't want to believe it at first but now you're forced to. you even went as far as showing him a picture to which he nudged at and purred–like he is trying to tell you something.

you watch as he slowly sits up and stretches from your lap. your eyes widen at a distance mark on his fur in the same place as someone who was once close to you. lee looks at you and gives you slow blinks and purrs loudly as your eyes slowly full with tears.

“you're just like him, yknow.” you whisper. lee continues to give you soft blinks before gently placing his white paw on your cheek, his toes beans feeling soft yet firm against your skin. his fur soaking up your tears before he leans in and gently licks your cheek. his scratchy tongue swiping along your cheek as he gives you kisses to which you giggle at and hold him close to your chest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“i'm not crazy.” you protest to your friend over the phone. “i swear, they're just like him!” 

“yn.. i know you miss him but that's impossible.”

“is it? i mean, don't you believe in the whole afterlife thing? y'know, being reborn and whatnot.”

“not particularly, no. it's just bizarre how you think that. are you ok, yn? like, really really ok?” you sigh deeply, rubbing your face with your hand.

“peachy. look, i know i sound crazy but it's true. it's just everything lee does is so alike to him. since adopting him, i feel more alive! like i have a purpose.”

“and that's great yn! but to say he is exactly like him is a little bizarre don't you think?” 

“well, yeah but– ah, never mind. look, i have to go. talk to you soon.” you hang up with a defeated sigh. of course they wouldn't believe you. you wouldn't if someone told you what you told your friend. they would have to see it to believe it; but even then, would they?

you drag your feet to your bedroom, smiling as you see lee curled up on his side of the bed. you flop down on your stomach, disturbing lee from his nap. his head shoots up, a tired and disapproved meow causing you to laugh softly.

“sorry darling. i didn't mean to wake you.” lee puts his head back down before letting out a big yawn. his ears twitching and soft purrs emitting as you gently pat his soft and silky fur.

“maybe i am a little crazy.” you say with a soft chuckle. “could you not give me a sign or something? i'll take anything at this point.” 

lee looks at you before getting up off the bed and walking out. you watch with a sad smile feeling defeated and your heart weighing you down.

moments later, lee walks back into the bedroom. he jumps up on the bed and drops a piece of clothing by your face. it's a sock but not just any sock–it's his favourite sock.

you sit up, holding the sock close to your chest as tears stream down your cheeks. you let out broken sobs as lee stands on his hind legs, front paws on your arms as he reaches up. you laugh softly, leaning down to allow him to lick your cheek slowly and gently to soothe you.

you scoop him up and nuzzle into his soft furr, getting it wet with your tears. lee endures it, purring softly and rubbing his face against your cheek.

“it's really you.” you whisper. “welcome back, my love.” 

note: idek. i saw a tiktok ok and it prompted me to do this. i have no words, sdjn;aslfb! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

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