#this heat wave has been a blessing and curse

[savage-rhi]

Magenta kinda?

[chaconnehoonie]

Wet- L.HS

☼ Lee Heeseung x Fem Reader

Synopsis- As temperatures rise, so does Heeseung’s dick.

WC: 4k+

Warnings: smut, one(1) food play-ish scene, water gun fight, cursing, nothing too extreme it’s just pwp

Smut warnings: Verbal and physical teasing, kissing, oral(f), unprotected sex, creampies, voyeurism and they (kinda) get caught, pool/outdoor sex

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are accurate in real life, MDNI!

A/N: This was originally supposed to be written for Sunghoon but I can’t get over that picture of Heeseung so I changed my mind. Enjoy!

You’re so hot

The summer sun warms the exposed areas of skin, but your water soaked shirt keeps you cool in the one hundred degree weather. God damn the sun and its harsh rays—cursing the land with heat waves and rising temperatures that force you and your friends to find ways to cool off.

Heeseung can’t help but stare.

Even as he feels a stream of water hit the back of his head, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Especially when Jake takes aim and pulls the trigger of his water gun to shoot straight at the center of your chest. God bless the sun.

“Alright, pervert! You got me.” You run a hand through your wet hair, laughing to yourself as you make your way towards your friends and knock water guns with Sunoo as a small celebration.

Jake shoots you one last time, whining about how unfair you play. “Seriously, how did you even get back there? I swear I checked thrice! I want to switch teams!” You poke the muscle of bicep that’s outlined by his own soaking wet shirt, teasing him for his terrible skills at his own game.

“Maybe you should’ve checked better.” With a click of your tongue you prance towards the pool, placing a palm upon the hot pavement to determine the heat. Heeseung watches as you stand up and pull your shirt off of yourself, back arching and neck rolling back as you peel the sticking fabric off of your body to reveal your bikini.

He admires the way you swiftly throw your shirt to the side, grabbing your beach towel and placing it next to the pool to sit on. Plopping yourself onto it, you dip your freshly painted toes into the water and splash them around.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Jay startles Heeseung from his trance, snapping his head to see the younger is now the only person standing next to him, a quirked eyebrow following his question. “I can’t.”

Heeseung replies simply, turning back just in time to notice Sunghoon handing you a small ice cream cone. He’s unable to focus for long as his attention is caught by Sunoo loudly laughing from the pool, where Jake is swimming around with an open mouth, begging Sunghoon to at least attempt to throw his own cone into his mouth from where he stands next to you.

“I don’t think Sunghoon would like that.” Heeseung sighs, shaking his head and deciding his own fate is to watch you from afar. To admire you from a distance.

But Jay wouldn’t let that happen. He doesn’t call himself “Heeseung’s number one wing man” for no reason, which is why he encourages his friend to go after you. Even if Sunghoon seems to be the only guy in your field of vision.

Of course, you’re just friends. At least that’s what you both claim. Heeseung doesn’t believe it though, in fact, he believes you two have been keeping it on the low. He’s created a whole fantasy relationship between his two friends— a fantasy that he isn’t a part of.

“Your first problem is not Sunghoon.” Jay brings up the topic once they’ve made their way into the cool house, alone. “The problem is you thinking there’s something going on between them.” Heeseung scoffs, taking a beer from Jay then turning his head to look at you through the window.

Your ice cream cone is melting in the hot sun, creamy liquid running through your fingers and down your forearm and Heeseung shivers. He’s always known he has a strong imagination, but with the visual stimulation right there; the suggestively colored desert leaving trails of itself down your arm, he can only imagine how his is own cream would adorn your body.

“Are you even listening?” Jay smacks his friend’s head, snapping him out of his scandalous fantasy. “You need to make a move. And I promise you Sunghoon won’t care. Sure, he’s a little protective but he’s your best friend too—he knows what’s best for both of you.”

Heeseung only pays attention to the first half of Jay’s rant, falling back into a trance as you finally lick a long stripe up your forearm, swapping your ice cream cone to the other hand to suck on your messy fingers. He only looks away when Sunghoon grabs your wrist and forces your fingers further down your throat and you gag for a second, then bring your ice cream and spit covered hand to the back of Sunghoon’s head, pushing him into the pool with Jake and Sunoo.

“You’re so right.” Heeseung’s voice is barely audible to Jay. “What-”before Jay can even question him, the older is patting him on the back and muttering a quick thanks you’re the best and rushing outside. Jay stands there for a second, sighs, then quickly entertains himself with an unopened bottle of vodka. He’ll pay Sunghoon back later.

You move your attention from the pool to the house just in time to see Heeseung sitting down next to you. You note that he looks nervous, maybe even shy, but you don’t say anything to humiliate him. Yet.

“Hi, Hee. What’s up?” You chirp out before bringing what’s left of your ice cream to your lips, licking a sensual stripe along the side. You don’t break eye contact with Heeseung as you twist the cone between your fingers, coating the entire expanse with your tongue.

Heeseung gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he watches a drop of melted cream land on your chest, then can’t help but follow it with his eyes as it glides down your skin over your right breast, then between your breasts, and finally landing somewhere in the covered area of your bikini top.

As if he wasn’t just ogling your body, he looks back up to see you staring at him in amusement, and finally answers your question. “Nothing.”

You nod, smirking to yourself and quickly glancing towards all four of your friends now in the pool. “Nothing, huh?” You repeat and he nods eagerly.

“So what about that?” Your gaze drops to his lap, and only then does he realize how hard he’s gotten over this short interaction. “That seems pretty up to me.” You tease, letting out a giggle before abruptly standing up and stretching out the hand currently holding your ice cream.

Heeseung grabs the cone, confused but so love-struck that he’s barely processing anything at the moment. You push his hand closer to his mouth, watching as drops land onto the crotch of his swim trunks and he once again follows your gaze.

Grabbing his cheek with one hand and pushing the ice cream past his lips with the other, you smile widely at him. “Finish for me, yeah?”

.☼.

If yesterday really happened, then Heeseung is in a slight dilemma. After arriving home last night, he did finish for you. At least, he hopes that’s what you meant by finish. Perhaps you really did mean the yummy treat but he knows you. He knows your double meanings and your teasing jokes.

But this makes his situation all the worse. To anyone else, these interactions would have confirmed your requited feelings for Heeseung, but it’s you. You’re so confusing.

With the way you’re so teasing with everyone, and the way you show affection in questionable manners. Even the way you openly treat all and any of your friends as if they’re your boyfriend.

Heeseung remembers when Sunoo complimented the scent of your lip gloss, so in return you kissed him for a solid five seconds, stating that you “just wanted him to taste it”. Yeah, sure.

Or the time Jake wanted you to clean up his eyebrows for him, which resulted in you sitting in his lap for fifteen stiff minutes applying your entire skin care routine on him.

Whatever you have going on in your head, it confuses Heeseung. Which is why he decided he’s finally going to man up and ask you on a date at your daily pool hang out.

At least, he’s going to try to. Hopefully if you’re not wearing his favorite red bikini. Hopefully if you somehow magically forgot the events of yesterday. Hopefully if he just grows some balls and lets his feelings free for the first time in years. Probably not.

.☼.

It’s safe to say, you did not forget the events of yesterday, you’re definitely wearing Heeseung’s favorite red bikini, and he has not at all grown any balls to even make eye contact with you yet.

He’s been here for an hour. One whole agonizing hour of watching you climb onto Jake’s shoulders and wrestle Sunghoon who is on Sunoo’s shoulders. Thankfully, Sunoo has thighs of steel and is able to keep Sunghoon steady while you push and pull all in an attempt to knock him over.

Heeseung’s jaw clenches and his eyes don’t leave your hands— your hands that are currently touching up every part of Sunghoon’s body. He contemplates leaving now and skipping out on the guy’s night he and his friends hold biweekly.

Your fingers grip Sunghoon’s biceps before making their way to his chest, nails scratching their way down his ridged stomach, letting out frustrated groans as you poke and poke at Sunghoon’s body.

Oh, how Heeseung wishes it was his body you were touching. He can’t take it anymore, standing up quickly and pushing his lawn chair back, where it hits the floor with a loud crash before making his way into the house just like he did yesterday.

The crash distracts you and Sunghoon takes this as an advantage as he swiftly loosens your harsh grip on Jake’s shoulders and pushes you down into the water.

From outside of the pool, Jay sighs to himself before following Heeseung back inside, finding him snooping through Sunghoon’s home bar.

“She’s not going to fuck you if you’re not sober, you know.” Heeseung jumps at the sound of Jay’s voice, almost dropping one of the expensive bottles of alcohol.

He shrugs and continues snooping. “Who said anything about fucking?” His reply is nonchalant but his best friend can see right through his act. “Your eyes say everything I need to know.” Jay laughs to himself but Heeseung doesn’t find it funny.

“Whatever. She’s not into me like that anyways.” Heeseung speaks like he’s trying to convince himself, but Jay can hear the hopeful tone in his voice. “Trust me. She was eye fucking you earlier when you weren’t looking.”

Jay barely gets the sentence out before Heeseung is visibly perking up. “Really?!” His face is bright and his eyes are glossy and wide. “Relax, man. Don’t pop a boner in front of me.” Jay teases his friend and Heeseung rolls his eyes in embarrassment, because he definitely would grow stiff at just the mention of your name.

Jay heads back towards the sliding door but turns back to Heeseung before he opens it. “By the way, Hoon invited her to stay the night with us also.” He smiles to himself before continuing his sentence. “So please try to keep it down if you do happen to make it past first base.” With that, he makes his way back to the pool and leaves Heeseung with a heavy problem in his swim trunks.

.☼.

Heeseung opens his eyes to the sound of obnoxious snoring echoing throughout Sunghoon’s living room. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep but by the looks of it, everyone else seems to have knocked out by now too. Closing his eyes, he decides to try to fall back asleep. Until he’s startled awake-

“Heeseung.”

Shooting his eyes back open, he sits up from his place on the couch and looks around the dark room. With his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, he can only barely make out your figure kneeling next to him on the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?” He whispers a little too loudly and you stand up, a palm covering his mouth swiftly as you take place onto the couch next to him.

Heeseung is a big man, meaning he already takes up most of the space, leaving you only a small sliver of cushion to sit on. So, you climb up onto his lap to get comfortable— because of course you would. Stiffening up from under you, he makes eye contact with you the best he can with the dim lighting, only the moonlight peeking through the curtains.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You whisper, slowly taking your hand off of his mouth and trailing it down his chest and stomach, finally resting it at his side. Your thumb swipes comfortably there, almost as if you’re reassuring him, letting him know that this is real. “And I’m bored.” You lean in closer to him, your hand now coming up to his chest and pushing him to lay flat underneath you, his head landing softly on the armrest of the couch.

He gulps, big doe eyes looking up at you almost innocently. But you know that’s not the case. You’ve seen the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Seeing him drool over you is one thing but seeing him think he’s being slick with it? It, makes you way more aroused than you’d like to admit.

However, it’s taken too long for him to act on his desires, so you decide to do it for him. “Wanna help me?” Your voice is sultry and low, and Heeseung’s tummy feels warm as it stirs with excitement when he nods. Leaning down slowly, you stop as soon as the tip of your nose brushes Heeseung’s. Nodding your head slightly, you rub your nose against his almost domestically, before leaning in and lightly pressing your lips to his.

The kiss doesn’t last long, as you’re quick to pull away and smile. But Heeseung isn’t pleased yet, instead cupping the back of your head with his hand and pulling your face back towards his. Your lips smash together almost painfully, but you’re distracted quickly as his tongue immediately pushes its way into your mouth. It’s warm and wet, strong as it glides against yours in a teasing manner.

You catch his bottom lip between yours, sucking on it for a second before biting it softly and pulling away, watching as it bounces back now glossy and red. Heeseung expects more, but to his surprise, you just jump off of his lap and quietly walk to the door that leads outside.

Looking back, you watch his silhouette as he runs a hand through his hair and sits up again. You turn back to unlock the door, already taking your shirt off to expose your bare torso before turning to him one last time. “You coming?”

.☼.

If anyone had told Heeseung two days ago that he would be not only skinny dipping at 2am with you—but shoving his tongue down your throat as well, he wouldn’t believe it.

But, lo and behold, he currently has your back pressed to the edge of the pool with your legs wrapped around his naked waist, lips locked and swollen.

It all happened in a rush, between you stripping to nothing in front of him to him following your lead and ending up intertwined, he suddenly finds himself in a dream-like state.

Was this really happening? The girl he’s been craving for years is finally giving him a chance? Heeseung feels like happiest man on earth right now, and judging by the little moans you let out every now and then, he thinks you may feel the same.

“Heeseung.” You practically whimper as he drags his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at your warm skin. His lips kiss down your chest softly, landing on one of your hard nipples. He pecks it so so softly, almost afraid of hurting you, but you want it to hurt. Grabbing the back of his head and pushing your chest forward, you encourage him to take your nipple into his mouth and he easily gets the hint.

He’s barely done anything and you’re already shaking in his arms, gripping his biceps and throwing your head back with a loud moan. “Heeseung- I need you to fuck me.”

He stops immediately, then slowly detaches his mouth from your nipple and looks up at you. “Yeah? Want me to fuck this pretty pussy?” He thrusts his hips up, his movements slowed by the water but his cock still manages to brush against your folds. You bite your lip, nodding your head eagerly and Heeseung smiles. “Let me get a taste of it first.”

Without waiting for your response, he lifts you up and places you at the edge of the pool, your pussy sat deliciously in front of where he keeps himself afloat.

He almost drools, noting the way he can still see your slick drip out of you despite your whole body being drenched in pool water. Heeseung wastes no time, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer so his tongue can lap at your slit.

The pleasure sends a shock through your body, your back arching almost painfully and your hips push themselves harder against Heeseung’s face. He’s forced so close into your cunt that you can feel each feature—his nose stimulating your clit as his tongue teases your entrance and his plush lips sucking almost obnoxiously all while his chin is already slippery with your arousal.

“Ah-fuck!” He’s only been at it for a few minutes yet you’re already so close. But this isn’t want you want. No, as much as you want to release all over his pretty nose, you didn’t seduce him just to finish so quickly. So, you use all of your strength to pull him off of you and scoot away. “Need you to fuck me, now.”

That’s all it takes for Heeseung to lift himself out of the pool, pick you up, and then throw you on the nearest lounging chair. Thank fuck for Heeseung convincing Sunghoon to buy these at the start of the summer. Otherwise he may have opted for fucking you on the itchy grass.

Grabbing his face, you pull him down, kissing him with a sloppy force while you grow more impatient by the second. “How do you want it?” He’s so polite as he asks, but just the idea of him caring about your pleasure is so arousing. You turn around, placing your cheek on the cushion of the pool lounger and wiggling your ass to taunt him.

It works, of course, and Heeseung takes his place behind you. He slaps his thick girth on the crevice of your ass, feeling the heat between your bodies mix with the humid summer night air. “Hurry, please.” You whine but he just shushes you, dropping his cock to gather your slick on his tip.

You’re tired of waiting, pushing yourself back only slightly to feel him enter you just an inch. “Oh, God.” You gasp, caught off guard by the stretch of just the head. He fights the urge to fully push himself in, instead gently sliding in more, your walls clenching tighter and tighter as each inch stretches you out, a tingling feeling fluttering in your stomach.

He fully bottoms out, standing still with his hands on your hips for a second, before somehow pushing even deeper. You squeak, brows furrowing as you try to ignore the pain of the threatening size currently stuffing you full. You open your eyes, looking back to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes shut.

You reach your hand back and tap his own hand, letting him know he can finally move. He nods, leaning forward a bit to hover his body closer to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” You smile at him for a second, but it’s quickly replaced by an open mouthed moan as he pulls back a few inches, then slams himself back in.

Building up a steady pace, he thrusts a few times before finally letting out his first moan. And God, was it beautiful. “Yes-yes let me hear you, baby.” Your voice is weak as his thrusts push your whole body against the chair, your breath unsteady and shaky with each meet of your hips.

It feels amazing, but you can’t help but feel that Heeseung is trying to be gentle with you, which you don’t want. Pushing yourself back again, you meet his thrusts with quiet hmph hmph hmph noises that catch his attention. “You need more? Yeah? My cock isn’t enough for you, needy baby?” He coos at you but you know he’s still holding back. “Please, Heeseung. More.” Your fragile voice ignites something in him, and you’re suddenly being picked up by your hair.

Heeseung grabs your wrists and pins them to the top of the lounger, romantically intertwining his fingers between yours before aggressively snapping his hips against your ass. You let out an almost-too-loud moan, but it only fuels Heeseung more. Your bodies are close and he can’t pull back fully, so instead he fucks into you at a fast, almost blinding pace.

He watches your ass jiggle as it meets his pelvis, the bouncing fat sending him to an almost trance like state. The only thing that snaps him out of it is your whiny voice. “Harder, Heeseung, harder!” He pulls out fully, not giving you time to process his actions as he sits down on the lounger and pulls you on top of him, slipping his cock back into your heat easily.

Thrusting up once, twice, then a third time, he watches your thighs tremble as you try to hold yourself up for him. He finds it cute, how you’ve teased him for so long only to end up too cock drunk to even ride him. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you flat against him so you’re chest to chest with your face in his neck.

He slowly drags his cock out of you, then fully shoves it in, a loud squelching noise following. “So fucking wet. So fucking noisy.” He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fucks up into your cunt in an almost inhumane pace. “Ah ah ah, shit! I’m cumming, Heeseung!”

Your warning barely falls from your lips as you clench impossibly tight around him, body stiffening for a second until your toes curl and you feel the knot in your stomach releasing with a tingling sensation spreading throughout your entire body, which then goes limp against Heeseung’s.

This encourages him to thrust harder, chasing his own release that he can already sense creeping up on him. His fingers dig into your ass, nails leaving indents as his hips don’t slow down. The sound of your release mixing with the slapping of his balls on your ass is all too much, and he finally lets himself go.

“Gonna cum in you, baby. Gonna cum so fucking deep-fuck!” He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, hips stilled and cock stuffed so deep inside of you, you’re sure you’ll end up pregnant even on birth control.

He slowly lowers his hips, caressing your back soothingly as if he’s apologizing for his harsh treatment before. “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?” He cups your cheeks to look into your eyes, only to meet your fucked out expression and lazy smile. “That was the best I’ve ever had.”

That was enough to almost have Heeseung stiffening up again, if not for the sound of the sliding door opening and Jay’s pissed off voice. “Brought you guys some towels.” He walks out with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding out two beach towels, which he throws on the floor carelessly, then walks back to the door. “I told you to keep it down if you got past first base.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I Can Take the Upper Hand and Touch Your Body: Part One

A/N: it's here! It's officially @acotar-omegaverse-week party people! Did you know there is a serious LACK of Nessian omegaverse? It's a crime. So you know I had to come out here and represent us Nessian girlies. So I hope everyone enjoys Nesta and Cassian "turning up the heat" in hopefully the best way 😉 Seriously, this is very filthy. The plot? Not really there. But there is plenty of smut 😇

Read on AO3 // Next Part

The first thing Nesta notices when the elevator doors open on the fifteenth floor is the scent. It’s unmistakable, a sweet mix of pheromones that is all too indisputable; although this particular scent seems to be tinged distinctly with pine, with the wind kissed breeze that blows off the mountains. Already, Nesta’s body begins to respond as that scent floods her senses, heat flaring through her veins and down to her toes, but she’s quick to snuff out those flames, refusing to let even an ember continue to breathe.

Presenting as an omega had been everything Nesta’s mother ever wanted for her. Since as early as she can remember, it was all Elinor Archeron ever seemed to speak about. She’d brush through the long strands of Nesta’s hair, braiding them back with the same harshness she took to parenting, and remind her eldest daughter that a good omega could secure the best alpha match, ensure the family’s security.

Her mother always made it sound like it was powerful to be an omega, but to Nesta, it felt more like a life sentence. A cold iron collar settling around her neck, around her wrists, shackling her to a life condemned as a trussed up broodmare.

A blessing from the Mother. That’s what Elinor had said when Nesta presented much earlier than most girls. What she said when she threw a ball to celebrate the presentation. What she said when she paraded Nesta around the room, when alphas twice Nesta’s age leered with too sharp teeth and too eager eyes at her body, pawed at her dress and her arms. It took all of Nesta’s willpower to hold her tongue against the word she really wanted to utter the whole night.

Curse.

So when Elinor finally passed, when Nesta was finally free, she became everything her mother would have hated. Cold. Callous. Stubborn. She swallowed enough suppressants until she could push through university and up the corporate ladder. Instead of the simpering, sweet omega the world expected, Nesta became one that snarls and bites. Returned every look she got from an alpha with a sneer of her own, every honeyed word with clipped ones, until alphas preferred to steer clear of her.

Nesta Archeron decided that she may be an omega, but she was in control.

Sighing softly, Nesta weaves her way down the hall and toward the source of the scent. The closer she gets, the thicker that scent becomes. She swears she can feel it wrap around her throat, swears she can taste it on the back of her tongue. It prickles across her skin and beckons her closer still. Nesta has to take a moment to close her eyes and breathe through her mouth, fighting back the fire she can feel threatening to crash over her and flush her skin, the shutter daring to skitter up her spine.

She rolls her shoulders and straightens her spine, continuing down the hall, but her steps stutter to a stop when she realizes exactly which office she’s being led to. Of course. Of course, it would be his office.

Alphas are large by nature, but Cassian Valdarez seems to take it to another level. He’s all wide shoulders and chest, all large hands and thick thighs. With dark waves of hair tumbling down to his shoulders and stubble scraped along the hard cut of his jaw, he looks like the sort of rugged male that belongs deep in the mountains. And yet, despite his size, he always seems quick to disarm with easy smiles and a warm laugh.

Nesta had hated him on sight.

Every cocky smirk that tugged up his lips, every drawled sweetheart that tumbled past them. Every time he called her Nes despite her correcting him on numerous occasions. It all fueled her endless annoyance with him. It didn’t help he’d been all but handed this job, adoptive brother to the CEO of Night Inc. apparently. Alphas were always just handed things.

Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever forget his first day, when he ran into her in the breakroom. She had snapped at him, as she often did when an alpha dared to look in her direction, but rather than get that wide-eyed shocked expression, the unimpressed curled lip that usually came when she stepped over the line of omega expectations, he had merely thrown his head back and laughed, hazel eyes sparking as though the whole thing was delightful. It was infuriating.

Almost as infuriating as right now.

Nesta doesn’t even bother knocking. She swings open the door and strides right into the office, demanding, “what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls, looking up from his work with that cocksure smirk of his. “Did you forget that I work here? You’d think my name on the office door would remind you.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Nesta hisses, rolling her eyes. “I could scent you all the way from the elevators.”

That comment has Cassian’s grip tightening around his pen enough for his knuckles to turn white. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Go home.”

“Is that an order? Last time I checked, I didn’t take them from you.”

“I’m not fucking around, Cassian. Go home and fuck your rut out with your omega,” Nesta bites out, stalking closer toward Cassian’s desk.

She doesn’t miss the way that stupid smirk of his starts to slip for a moment, the way he glances away from her. There’s no other way to describe the expression other than shame and embarrassment. It draws a derisive snort out of her.

“You cannot be serious. You don’t have an omega to help you through your rut?”

“I was working on it,” Cassian growls lowly from between his clenched teeth.

“You’re pathetic.”

The bite in her words is enough to pull his eyes back to hers, the hazel of them blazing around his dilated pupils. “Careful, Nes.”

“Or what?” Nesta drawls with a roll of her eyes. “It is pathetic. What kind of alpha doesn’t have an omega for his rut?”

Cassian pushes up from his office chair, and Nesta is reminded just how large he is. He stands almost a head taller than her, and she has to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. With his wide frame, he practically looms over her, and this close together, all Nesta can do is breathe in lungfuls of his scent, feel that scent wrap around her limbs and send goosebumps prickling across her skin.

“Is that an offer?”

“You wish,” Nesta snaps.

She shoves hard at his chest, but of course he doesn’t even move an inch. Instead, his hands curl around her wrists, holding her there. The warmth of his touch and his dizzying scent still flooding her senses is almost too much. Already, she can feel her body betraying her, can feel flames licking low in her gut.

“You say that,” Cassian says, bending his face down until his breath fans across her lips. “But you forget that I can scent you too. Getting wet and slick thinking about me, Nes?”

With a growl, Nesta yanks her arms free of his grasp. “Fuck you.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to let you do.”

The words are enough to give Nesta pause, but it’s all the opening that Cassian needs. He presses right back into her space, his arm sliding around her back and grasping her waist this time. He pulls her flush against his body until she can feel every hard line of muscle hiding beneath his shirt, until she can feel the hard line growing between his thighs.

Clearly, his rut has well and truly taken hold.

He tips his head down and focuses his attention on her neck, breathing deeply and groaning. His fingers flex, fisting into the fabric of her blouse, and Nesta has to swallow hard as it pulls her closer still. His nose slides over the gland on her throat, and there’s no stopping the whine that tumbles free past her lips, the way her breath hitches in her throat.

No stopping the rush of slick she can feel.

It takes all of her willpower to push him away again, Cassian actually stumbling back this time. His eyes have darkened, a flame sizzling amongst the greens and golds, and that burning gaze is pinned fully on Nesta.

“Sit down,” Nesta demands, forcing the words around the breathlessness threatening to pull her under.

Surprisingly, Cassian obeys, walking backwards and collapsing back into his office chair. Only when she’s sure he doesn’t intend to move again does Nesta reach up under her skirt. She hooks her fingers under the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her knees, and down her calves. She hears the distinct creak of wood as she steps out of them, and when she looks up, Cassian has a death grip on the arm rests of his chair.

She smirks as she walks her way around Cassian’s desk. She pushes the papers there aside, making room for her to jump up. She takes her time sliding back on the desk enough that she can spread her legs and plant her heels on the edge. Makes a big show of lifting up the hem of her skirt until her cunt is fully exposed, reveling in the soft growl that rumbles from Cassian’s chest.

“Mother save me,” Cassian groans, licking his lips. “Look at you.”

Nesta traces her hand down until she reaches between her thighs. She slides a finger through the slick that’s already gathered there, just that small, teasing touch leaving her gasping. She touches herself with more purpose on the next swipe, adding more pressure and continuing upwards until she can trace a circle over her clit. She moans softly, eyes fluttering closed and hips jumping against the pulse of pleasure.

“Gods, you're drenched already, sweetheart. So wet thinking about my cock and my knot, aren’t you?”

Nesta dares to bring her fingers lower again, dares to sink one into her cunt. She’s already produced so much slick, already so keyed up, that she meets almost no resistance. She pulls back and presses in two fingers next, whining high in the back of her throat. She moves her hand just how she knows she likes, pressing deep and curling her fingers, her hips rocking to meet every drive of them.

“Add a third finger. Get yourself nice and ready to take my knot.”

Nesta huffs at the command, but there’s no denying that inherent part of her that wants to be good for an alpha. The part of her that preens at an alpha’s attention. The part of her that claws with desperation for more, that demands to be claimed no matter how much Nesta has tried to suppress that instinct. It’s that part of her that has her squeezing in a third finger beside the other two, her entire body tensing at the stretch.

“Good girl.”

The praise has Nesta moaning again. She opens her eyes, finally looking at Cassian again, but it’s instantly a mistake. No longer are his eyes the bright hazel she’s come to know. Instead, they’re dark, the pupils blown out and swallowing his irises. His curls hang loose around his face, only adding to the shadows cutting across his jawline and the stubble lining the skin there, and with every heaving breath, his nostrils flare. She can see his throat bob with every swallow, see the muscles of his forearm flex where his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbow as his grip tightens against the arms of his chair.

He’s clearly holding himself back, and it’s unfair how attractive it is. How attractive he is. It’s almost instinctive, almost involuntary, the way her cunt clenches down around her fingers. The way another whimper is pulled straight from her chest at the sight of him.

“You take your fingers so well. Are you going to take my cock that well, too?”

Nesta huffs, even as she presses her fingers deeper desperately. “Who knew you were such a talker.”

“You like it.” Nesta wants to deny it but can’t, not with the way her body continues to respond to the deep timbre of his voice. “You like when I call you my good girl. Like being my good girl.”

Nesta tosses her head back again, but not before half heartedly rolling her eyes. She continues to drive and curl her fingers, continues to rock her hips against them, but it’s not enough. She tries to press her fingers even deeper, tries to spread them to achieve that stretch she craves, but she’s stuck right on that precipice, release glimmering in sight but still so out of reach.

“Please,” Nesta whispers, her hips jumping off the desk. “Please. I can’t– I need–”

With a growl, Cassian pushes to his feet. His fingers curl around Nesta’s wrist, tugging her fingers free and lifting her hand toward his mouth. Nesta’s breath hitches in her throat as he guides her slick coated fingers between his lips, as his tongue drags slowly over each digit, as his eyes flutter closed and a groan reverberates from deep in his chest.

“Please,” Nesta echoes again.

“Please what?” Cassian asks, even as he reaches for the belt of his pants, deft finger working to unfasten them. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“It’s not enough. I need your knot.”

It’s hard for Nesta to be annoyed at the return of that infuriating, cocksure smirk of his when she’s still so on edge and desperate. When she feels so empty. It’s hard to think of anything else when Cassian finally finishes unfastening his pants, shoving the fabric of them and his boxers down the thick muscles of his thighs. Hard to think of anything else when the hard line of his cock is finally free from its confines.

Her mouth practically goes dry at the sight of it.

She’s not sure what exactly she was expecting, but she certainly wasn’t expecting the wide girth of Cassian’s cock. She wasn’t expecting the veins that run along the sides of his cock before circling around the center. Wasn’t expecting the thick head already purpling and weeping with his own arousal. She can feel another rush of slick dripping between her thighs in anticipation.

Cassian’s hand curls around his cock, stroking it lazily, but he doesn’t move any closer, doesn’t give Nesta what she needs. What she knows they both need. Instead, that smirk of his only seems to grow with each teasing stroke of his hand. So Nesta spreads her thighs wider still, pressing her hips closer to the edge of the desk. An offering.

“Please, alpha.”

“Fuck.”

Gone is that smirk, his chest heaving with a hitched breath. He finally steps closer into the cradle of Nesta’s thighs, dragging the head of his cock through the mess of slick and arousal gathered there, dragging until he can tease at her clit. His free hand reaches for her jaw, the large span of it enough that his fingers curl down around her neck. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip, leaning in so that his warm breath fans across her cheeks.

His lips slotting over hers is Nesta’s only warning before he presses his hips forward, the tip of his cock sinking into her. Nesta gasps into the kiss, but Cassian merely uses the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, to bury his cock another inch. The way he fills her already is unfair.

She owns almost every best knotting toy on the market to help her get through her heats, and yet still, it’s nothing compared to this stretch, to the feel of those veins dragging along the walls of her cunt. Even with how much slick she’s already produced, even with the way she rode her own fingers, he still has to slowly rock his hips before he finally feeds her the rest of his cock until just his knot remains, already swelling at the base.

Cassian pulls back from the kiss, and Nesta is like a marionette with her strings cut, falling back down against the desk with a quiet whine. Cassian doesn’t seem to mind. His hands find her thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he hoists her legs to hook around his hips.

“Look at how my good girl takes me,” Cassian praises, Nesta clenching down around his cock at the words. “Oh, fuck, Nes. That’s it. You were made to take your alpha’s cock, weren’t you?”

When she doesn’t respond, he pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again, still teasing his knot. His hand trails further up her thigh, calluses sliding deliciously against her skin, until he can press his thumb down against her clit. Nesta cries out at the sensation, her hips bucking up, but Cassian’s hand on her lower stomach keeps her pinned in place.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes!” Nesta gasps out, her voice bleeding into a moan when Cassian rewards her by moving his thumb, tracing circles over her clit.

She’s already too keyed-up that when Cassian continues his ministrations against her clit, when he starts to rock his hips again, she doesn’t even have time to warn him. Her orgasm tears through her, and she clenches down hard around his cock, a moan of Cassian’s name falling from her lips as she tosses her head back.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come all over my cock.”

Cassian continues to move his hips, working her through and stretching out her release until it starts to bleed into overstimulation. But he doesn’t stop. He plants both his hands on the desk, Nesta’s splayed legs now draped over his forearms, as he snaps his hips at a brutal pace. Nesta reaches a hand back over her head, gripping onto the edge of the desk just so she has something to hold onto, to keep herself from sliding back too much, a mess of high pitched whines and moans as Cassian continues to drive his hips into her.

Every forward thrust has Cassian’s knot catching, teasing, and Nesta’s thighs start to shake in anticipation, more slick adding to the mess already between her thighs. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s aware of the breathy pleas, the moans begging him, that continue to pour from her throat but she can’t find it within herself to care, not with the steady thrum of pleasure coursing through her body and drawn forward by the very man fucking into her hard.

A few more snaps of his hips, and Cassian drives home, burying his knot in her cunt. Nesta isn’t sure she’s ever felt more full in her life, letting out a choked gasp at the utter stretch of his knot pressing against her walls. She dares to clench down around it, and Cassian groans lowly, rocking his hips shallowly as his cock floods her with the warmth of his own release.

Nesta slumps back against the desk, Cassian finally setting her legs back down. She lets her eyes flutter closed, set on catching her breath while they wait for Cassian’s knot to go down, but then she feels his hands slide up over her hips, over her waist. Her eyes snap open again when those hands move across her chest, his fingers finding the buttons of her blouse.

“What are you doing?” Nesta asks, craning her neck enough that she can peer at Cassian’s hands in confusion.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get my hands on these,” Cassian explains, tugging the fabric of her blouse apart.

He pulls down the cups of her bra, but Nesta barely has time to gasp at the cool air of the office on her breasts before his warm hands enclose around them. His hands are large enough that each palm cradles the whole swell of her breasts, and he uses that to his advantage as he kneads and squeezes.

“Can you come again just like this?” Cassian asks, sliding his thumbs across her nipples. “I bet you can.”

“Fuck,” Nesta whines, her body already responding, that heat already building again and pooling low in her gut.

“Come on, sweetheart. I want to feel you really milking my knot.”

It’s a bit awkward with the way they’re still joined, but Cassian is able to lean over her, his mouth closing over her breast. His tongue drags and swirls around her nipple, Nesta arching up toward his face with a loud moan. He keeps his movements slow and languid, his teeth grazing teasingly along her skin. With his knot still pressing securely against the walls of her cunt, all the sensations are almost too much.

“Cass… Cassian,” Nesta pants, burying a hand in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp and fingers tugging at the dark strands.

The response only has Cassian doubling his efforts. Every slide of his tongue, every groan that reverberates against her chest, every drag of his calluses as he kneads her other breast with his hand, it all sends Nesta careening higher and higher. Cassian dares to rock his hips again, to press his knot even deeper, and it’s like a dam breaking. She comes again with a shout, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes at the pleasure that ricochets through her veins.

Cassian releases her breast with a quiet pop. “Good girl. Squeezing my knot so well.”

Nesta whimpers at his words, at the way she can feel his cock twitch again where it’s pressed so deep, can feel more warmth from his seed filling her cunt. It has another aftershock rocking through her, and Nesta tosses her arm over her eyes, her head feeling dizzy with the high of it all. Her heart pounds in her chest, her body already feeling wrung out, but still that instinctual part of her mind, that omega piece of her always clawing for release, begs for more.

His knot finally subsiding, Cassian pulls his cock free, and it takes all of Nesta’s willpower to swallow down her whine at the loss. She feels so empty, that inner part of her all but raging at the lack of an alpha’s knot keeping her stuffed full.

“Fuck, we made quite a mess, didn’t we?”

Nesta does whine when Cassian’s thumbs spread her cunt wider, and she doesn’t have to look to know the truth of his words. She can feel the combination of arousal, of slick, of Cassian’s seed leaking out of her and making a mess of her thighs and his desk.

“We can’t have that, can we?”

A quiet thump echoes in the office around them, and Nesta pushes herself up into a seated position in alarm, only to find Cassian now on his knees before her. His hands grasp at her thighs, tugging her further across the desk until she’s half hanging off the edge. It’s the only warning she gets before Cassian buries his face between her thighs.

Nesta’s feet scramble desperately at his shoulders, her hand shooting out to clutch at the dark strands of Cassian’s hair, but whether it’s to keep herself balanced or to keep him exactly where he is, she isn’t sure. He devours her with a ferocity that Nesta can barely wrap her mind around. His tongue fucks into her and curls, gathering all that mess, all while his lips continue to move against her. He lets out a groan, and Nesta swears she feels the reverberation all the way down to her toes.

It’s obscene, the way he works his mouth and eats her out. The way he keeps his darkened gaze on her the whole time while he does it. Even from between her thighs, Nesta can see that smirk of his. He turns his attention to her clit, the hot, wet slide of his tongue swirling circles across the bud, and Nesta’s whole body bows forward with a choked off moan. She’s not sure if she wants to rock her hips or pull away. Not that it matters, anyway, Cassian keeping a firm grip on her thighs and holding her to his face.

Heat courses through Nesta’s entire body, and she already knows she’s not going to last much longer, not with the way Cassian continues to play her body. He licks a thick stripe over her cunt, and when he returns to her clit, he sucks it between his lips.

Nesta’s release hits her with enough force, so quickly, that it takes her by surprise. Her throat feels hoarse from all her shouts and moans, her cunt still clenching and fluttering through the aftershocks even after Cassian pulls away. It seems almost unfair, that he’s had her orgasming so many times when it’s meant to be his rut she’s helping him through.

She slides her hand out of his hair and to his shoulder, fisting her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. Surprisingly, Cassian follows her silent command, standing up when she tugs, and he allows her to push him back into his chair. Her legs are wobbly as she slips off the desk, but thankfully, it’s not far to clamber onto the chair and straddle his lap.

Nesta reaches down between them, curling her fingers around Cassian’s cock, already hard again. She strokes up slowly, feeling the hot weight of him in her hand, the way he twitches against her palm in response to her touch. She drags her thumb across the head of his cock, daring to press teasingly at the slit and reveling when Cassian’s hips jerk up against her.

“Ready for my knot again already, Nes?” Cassian still drawls despite his body’s reaction. “You’re absolutely desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

Nesta crashes her mouth against his, determined to keep his mouth preoccupied, but she can’t deny the accusation, either. As amazing as his mouth had been, it was nothing compared to his cock, to his knot. It’s dangerous the way need has clawed up her chest, the way its twined around her ribs and dug a space there. It’s all she can focus on, the way his cock stroked against the walls of her cunt, the way his knot stretched her, the way his seed filled her.

There’s no suppressing the omega within her now, no denying her alpha.

She presses up higher onto her knees, guiding and holding Cassian’s cock steady as she sinks back down. There’s no keeping up the kiss. Nesta can do nothing but moan in relief against his lips at finally being full again. She clenches down, her toes curling at him pressing so deep.

Cassian lets out a groan of his own in reaction, his head dropping back against the chair. “Mother save me, nothing feels like your sweet cunt wrapped around me.”

Slowly, Nesta starts to circle and rock her hips, her clit dragging against Cassian’s pelvis with every movement in the most delicious way. But it’s not enough. It’s not what she needs. Planting her hands on Cassian’s shoulder for balance, she starts to move more earnestly, fucking herself on his cock.

“That’s my good girl.” Cassian’s hands settle at her hips, squeezing. “My sweet omega taking her alpha’s cock so well.”

Nesta keens at the praise, especially when Cassian plants his feet, snapping his hips up to meet her every movement with a hard, brutal thrust of his own. The pleasure is everything, fogging over her mind until all she can focus on is Cassian’s cock, on the feel of it slamming home over and over and over. On the sticky mess of slick and seed she’s made of both their thighs. On the wet slap of skin and her high pitched moans echoing off the walls of the office.

There’s a ringing in Nesta’s ears, and it drives Nesta to move her hips faster, to chase that sweet release until she realizes that it’s not in her head. It’s a phone. The phone on Cassian’s desk is ringing. She slows her movements, glancing over her shoulder toward the device, but a slap to her ass has her yelping in surprise.

“Ignore it,” Cassian chastises, his fingers squeezing and soothing away the ache of his slap. “Don’t stop now, Nes. Not when you’re riding my cock so perfectly.”

The ringing subsides, the call clearly having gone to voicemail, but then it just starts anew all over again. Cassian growls out a frustrated huff. His arm snaps around Nesta’s waist, holding her to his lap, keeping her on his cock, even as he reaches forward with his free hand to snatch up the offending device.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Nesta doesn’t need to see the screen of the phone to recognize the cool, clipped tone of Night Inc.’s CEO. “We have cameras in every office. What in the fuck were you thinking?”

“Fuck off, Rhys,” Cassian snaps into the phone.

“Go the fuck home, dumbass.”

With that, the line clicks, the call clearly ended. Cassian shakes his head and tosses his phone back on his desk, returning his hand to Nesta’s thigh as though he can’t keep his hands off her, even for the short time it takes to speak on the phone. He nuzzles his face into the junction between her throat and shoulder, skating his nose across her pulse point, and Nesta can feel that tell-tale smirk of his pressing against her skin.

“Whoops. Looks like we got caught, sweetheart.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

[realcube]

hi cutie!! your work makes me froth at the mouth <3333 also hear me out on this: ts! yaku talking with ts! lev after one of his games and lev introduces you as his foreign cousin and yaku is like omg cutie

this has been dinging around in my mind all week like a screensaver ily mwah

A/N → omg that's soo good !! ty for blessing me with this 🙏 also you literally read my mind cuz i've been having endless yaku brainrot recently

TWS/TAGS → fem!reader, reader is a statistician ??, modelling slander & cursing

yaku wipes his forehead with a towel while he is sat at the side of the court. the match is over and everyone is beginning to filter out of the stadium, including his teammates, but not without giving him a celebratory slap on the back or handshake first.

they all make their way towards the exit, where there are crowds of interviewers and tv cameramen waiting to pester them about their winning game. yaku wasn't quite ready yet to deal with the onslaught of questions and praise, so he remains on bench a bit longer, still trying to properly catch his breath.

that was until he heard the familiar voice of an old friend yell, "hey, shorty!"

he looked up to see lev walking towards him, with his arms wide open for a hug. it had been over a year since yaku had seen lev, since his modelling career had really taken off and presented unmissable oppertunities all over the world. yaku couldn't help but crack a smile, even at the terrible nickname.

as lev made his way towards him, he couldn't help but notice the girl he was with. stunning. a beauty unlike any other. so graceful and elegant in their movements, wearing a benign smile that caused yaku's heart to skip a beat.

naturally, he assumes you are lev's model girlfriend, or something like that. that was the only reasonable explanation he could think of, but even then, you were still miles out of lev's league. as you both approached, yaku tried his best to pay little mind towards you, as the reminder of lev's fortune would only piss him off and spoil what was supposed to be a joyful reunion.

"lev." he said, outstretching his arm for a handshake but he should've expected it when lev scooped him up in a big, tight hug.

"yaku! it's been forever!"

"put me down!" he demanded, and lev obliged, still beaming at him.

"congratulations on your win." lev said, and you added, "yeah, you were amazing."

yaku couldn't help but blush at your compliment, and he bowed his head in thanks towards both you and lev. which is what prompted lev to clear his throat and clarify, "oh! this is my cousin (y/n) from abroad."

you wave slightly to accompany the introduction, meanwhile yaku looks between the two of you, absolutely star-struck. "cousin?" he repeats.

"yeah." lev chuckled awkwardly, motioning towards himself and joking, "you're probably confused because i am so much better-looking but it's beca—"

you playfully elbow him in the side and he grunts slightly, then bursts out laughing while you exchange a knowing look with yaku. "so are you a model too?" he asks.

a fiery heat rises to your face and you tense, shaking your head slightly, "no, i'm just here with lev because i wanted to see the game."

he takes notice of the fact his question flustered you a little, and this brings him a new-found confidence, "have you ever thought of going into modelling?"

you blink a couple times while thinking about it, then shrug, "it's never really crossed my mind. i like the job i have."

"oh, yeah!" lev chimes in, "she's a statistician, isn't that super fancy?"

you nod in agreement with your cousin's enthusiasm, elaborating, "i know it doesn't sound cool but i get to chill in a big office and i hardly have to talk to anyone."

yaku agrees that a career devoid of other people's stupidity sounds like a dream come true, but he inquires, "so you just hide behind a computer all day?"

you nod proudly.

"sounds like a waste of such a pretty face." he chuckles to himself at how your eyes widen and your hand rushes to cover the bottom half of your face, "really, though, you should think about modelling. it's probably a lot easier and pays more. plus, i'd rather see your face on billboards than his."

he gestures to lev, who slaps his hand against his chest and lets out a dramatic gasp, "what's wrong with my face?! and modelling is not easy; it's one of the hardest jobs in the world and not for the weak."

"i'm sure styling your hair is very difficult, lev." yaku says sarcastically.

you laugh and interject, "he doesn't even style his own hair, he has someone to do that for him."

yaku raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a shit-eating grin, "so what the fuck do you do?"

lev crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, walking towards the exit, "you two can come find me when you're done being mean."

you both snicker to yourselves at lev's behaviour, realising you only tease him out of love, really. so when your laughter dies down, you begin to follow him at a safe distance behind. "how long are you going to be in russia for?" yaku asks, recalling that lev mentioned you're from a different country.

"just today." you reply, "this trip was so last-minute for me. lev just messaged me a week ago asking if i wanted to come and i said sure. i wanted to stay for a whole week but virtually all nearby hotels were booked. it's a miracle i even managed to find a room for tonight."

yaku frowned at your story, "that sucks. but i know a motel that has availability for this week."

"really?" you perk up, "what's it called?"

"my house."

[yandereunsolved]

୨ৎ Platonic Yandere Wolf-Shifter Wild ୨ৎ

The Calamity had been defeated by what had seemingly felt like many moons ago. Still, the remnants of the strange beast's malice remained on the surface of Hyrule. Zelda had insisted on visiting the Gerudo before exploring the strange ruins beneath the newly liberated castle. As the dutiful, silent hero, Wild obliged.

Gerudo Desert felt different while traveling in his wolf form. His tongue lulled out, his paws digging into the hot sands. The dry breaths of the air flowing through his dark, thickened fur. Even though his smell differed, any foe was easily identifiable by their scent alone. Even when hidden underneath the piles of golden grains, he was able to detect them.

The transformation wasn't as painful as the first time he had been put through it. A strange, pulsating pastel purple light surrounded him after defeating Calamity Ganon and freeing Zelda. He seemed to unlock this ability—a blessing or curse he could not yet define. It has been a weekly occurrence ever since. When in a high emotional state, he turned into his canine form. This was only exasperated due to the large quantity of stimulation he has been subjected to during the rebuilding campaign for Hyrule.

Thankfully, the lengthy trips between each place gave him a much-needed reprieve. 

A reprieve that was constantly interrupted.

He sensed it a moment before it hit. A tsunami made up of bullets of sand hit him square in the chest. He flew backward and nearly sprained one of his back legs. It took a moment for him to regain his bearings. What felt like fistfuls of sand invaded his snout and caused him momentary discomfort.

As the golden grains settled once again, he saw the outline of a Molduga burrowing back into the vast desert. Princess Zelda was nowhere in sight, most likely continuing to retreat to Gerudo Town and leaving Link to fend for himself.

"Aruf—" typical. He growled out through his elongated teeth—fangs. 

His fangs.

His dark brown ears perked as the Molduga's muffled roar was heard. It's heafty stature was barreling towards a traveler on a Sand Seal. They're most likely a hunter, Link deduces as he sprints through the uneven sands. 

They aren't built for the desert.

They seem to have no heat protection; their skin is abused by the unforgiving heat. Their clothes resemble those one would see worn in mild climates. A Great Eagle Bow is slung around their back, their arrows doing little to deter the Molduga, insistent on harming them. The Sand Seal they have mounted has left them stranded. A kick into their body from the tail of the seal sent them flying back, their Forest Dwellers shield colliding into their figure.

Ouch.

As the Molduga remerges, Link tackles the traveler out of the way. He nearly missed. 'I should have been faster' was his first thought as he shielded them from the onslaught of golden grains. The waves of sand roll over the both of them once again, but neither have been crushed beneath the weight of the monster.

"Aruh." Hello.

He sheepishly rolls over and wags his tail at you. You're both coated in the desert. The Molduga became disinterested and left you both alone.

"Hi." You answer in a questioning manner. Your head tilts towards him as your eyes analyze his lupin form.

That was the first time he met you, and the last time he let you out of his sight.

You both returned to Gerudo Town, and he eventually parted ways with Zelda and joined you in your adventures. He learned everything from your name to what you think about in the late hours of the night. You hunted in the morning, and he'd follow in his wolf form; he'd return with you in the evening as Link. He never felt a need to kiss you or to do more. He simply wanted to protect you and keep you away from everyone else in the world. 

He loves you, but not like that.

[sixeyescurseuser]

(1)

The temple curse Geto absorbs has a certain side effect; One that will strip away all the affects of his suppressants. 

He calls Shoko immediately. There’s no one else he trusts. Yaga-sensei would find this a pain to deal with, not to mention Geto’s placement at Jujutsu High would be at risk if he’s seen as a liability, and-

Geto would rather claw his insides out then admit to Gojo about being the so-called “burden that would drag them down on missions.”

Using his manta ray curse, Geto gets himself back to campus grounds and rushes to the infirmary where Shoko has already prepared a room in the isolated basement.

Geto has never gone through a full heat, only diluted ones because of meds he began taking once becoming a jujutsu student. Everything completely overwhelms his senses. His body aches already, and he’s beyond light-headed.

Bless Shoko, man. She made sure to get some blankets, pillows, and clothes from Geto’s dorm to bring into the heat room. If she includes some of her clothes and Gojo’s jacket that she stole when he took it off to train just an hour ago, then that’s their secret. 

“You know he’s gonna find out, sooner or later?” Shoko states, watching Geto gain a burst of energy as he meticulously arranges his nest.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Geto says absent-mindedly, holding up a dark blue jacket that’s doused in the scent of cotton candy and faint gunpowder.

Shoko sighs heavily, about to point out the fact that Geto is currently hyper fixating on the exact jacket of who they’re talking about.

The sound of sniffles makes her bite her tongue.

There Geto is, holding the jacket up to his nose, clearly basking in the scent. Except tears pool in his eyes, the first few slipping down his cheeks.

“Satoru is going to h-hate me,” Geto chokes out. Shoko blinks, taken aback.

“He’s not going to hate you-“

“Yes he is! He- I lied to him! I’ve been lying to him,” Geto whimpers, subconsciously nuzzling into the fabric that smells like his best friend. The scent of a panicked omega fills the room. 

Shoko quickly walks up to the bedside, putting her hand on Geto’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Gojo may be petty, but you’re his closest friend! He adores you,” Shoko says softly, rubbing Geto’s arm comfortably. 

Geto merely shakes his head, which begins to pound with a sharp pain. He can’t think rationally, the only thoughts pointing to Gojo’s betrayed reaction.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Geto…”

“Which is why you can’t tell him about this,” Geto concludes, eyes narrowed as he scrutinizes his friend. “Shoko, promise me.”

Shoko makes the promise. She says she’ll be in periodically to check on Geto, make sure he’s drinking water and eating what little he can stomach.

After Shoko leaves, Geto’s heat continues to burn him from the inside out. That night, he lays in his nest, which feels like it has a crucial piece missing.

The dark blue jacket lays shoved beneath his pillow.

***

Gojo knows something is wrong. He’s very irritable, snapping at everyone and everything. It doesn’t help that Geto hasn’t talked to him since that conversation. 

Naturally, Gojo’s been replaying their argument in his mind over and over again.

Why did Suguru get upset? 

Angry. He was angry, Gojo corrects. 

The itch under Gojo’s skin continues to get worse. When there’s no sign of Geto returning on the day his mission was supposed to end, Gojo is positive something is wrong.

He goes to Yaga-sensei first.

Yaga-sensei doesn’t reveal anything, saying he hasn’t heard from Geto.

Gojo forgoes asking Nanami because apparently he's also pissed at Gojo for whatever he said the other day. Asking Haibara is out of the question.

So without anyone else to bother, Gojo heads to the infirmary.

Right as he enters the front door, Gojo is hit with the most intense wave of chocolate, with a hint of lavender. A scent he’s never smelled before, as that’s sure as hell not Shoko’s citrusy scent.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Gojo heads for the stairwell that leads down into the basement. The scent grows stronger and stronger the closer he gets to the bottom.

A voice in the back of his mind tells him to fucking get a grip: a weird, enticing scent that has his body moving on its own? Major red flag. 

But alas, Gojo isn’t thinking clearly. And he’s still hung up on how obviously upset and disappointed Geto was with him. If Gojo can’t do anything right in the moment, he may as well do what his instincts are telling him - to follow the scent of chocolate and lavender.

Unfortunately, the sound of footsteps coming up reveals Shoko, who blocks the path to the rooms in the basement. 

“Gojo,” she acknowledges, a hint of surprise on her face. In her hands, she limply carries an empty tray. 

“Yo,” Gojo says dumbly. Shoko clicks her tongue, unimpressed by the innocent grin Gojo sends her way.

“You can’t be here.”

Gojo levels her with a determined expression. His subconscious knows who is in the basement. Shoko knows there’s no stopping him, so she reaches up to pinch Gojo’s cheek - HARD.

“You hurt him, I make you wish you were never born.”

When Gojo walks into the room, his brain short circuits. 

The scent he was smelling had belonged to an omega.

And that omega was Suguru.

(3)

[katyleen]

Shinyu x Reader

{School Au}

Synopsis: You, an average student suddenly bumped into one of the most popular boy in the school.

Warning: A few curse words, fluff??

——————————————————————————

‘Damn it where’s my notebook?’ You thought to yourself as you’re rummaging your locker. You’re just an average student, with small circle of friends and average scores, not involved in any of the school drama. You’d like think that you’re living a peaceful life in school….besides the assignments and studies that the teacher gives you. It’s their job though so you can’t really blame them.

Finally after looking at your locker for a while, you finally found your notebook. You grabbed it and closed your locker, immediately walking away to go to your class. You didn’t expect to bumped into something after stepping away from the locker though, which results with you accidentally dropping your book. You looked up to see that you didn’t bump into something but someone. And you certainly didn’t expect to be face-to-face with the most popular boy in the whole school, Shinyu.

“Ah..sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You apologized, slightly bowing to him and then going to reach for your book on the floor but he beats you to it. He bended down and grabbed the book, lightly patted your book to remove the dust.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have stood that close to you.” He replied sheepishly, holding the book out for you. You take the book from his hands and look at his face. You never really paid attention to a lot of people that’s not close with you, but you didn’t expect that this school has such a handsome boy wandering around.

‘Holy shit I’ve been blessed to see such a pretty face.’ You thought to yourself, snapping out of it when you notice him tilting his head at you.

“Oh uh it’s fine. So…I’m just gonna go now…bye.” You nervously said, walking away from him after waving him goodbye. You almost missed it, but you noticed him waving back at you as you keep walking further away from him.

*****

“YOU BUMPED INTO WHO?” Your friend yelled, making you kicked her leg lightly and shushed her.

“Keep it down will you?! I didn’t even realize that he was there. It’s not like I bumped into him on purpose.” You explained yourself. Your friend laughed and calmed down.

“But seriously, that’s so unexpected. What are the chances that you’d bump into him of all people? If you ask me I think this is fate.” She said. You raised an eyebrow, not understanding wha she’s trying to say. “Aish, I mean he could be your potential boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen, face heating up as you try to deny her statement. “What are you talking about? Many people bump into someone, are you saying that they’ll end up together?” She laughed again, clearly enjoying teasing you.

“I’m kidding. Sigh I really want that to happen to me too y’know? I want to bump into handsome people too. Maybe someone like Youngjae? He seems so mature and charming.” F/n sighed dreamily. You can’t help but rolled your eyes at your friend while laughing.

Youngjae is also from the same group as Shinyu. Their group consist of six people, Shinyu as the reliable one, Dohoon as the playful one, Youngjae as the responsible one, Hanjin known as the nicest boy, Jihoon being the social butterfly of the group, and Kyungmin who is very energetic.

“Ok stop daydreaming now, the teacher is here already.” You snapped her out of her daydream as the teacher walk inside the classroom to start the lesson.

*****

“Finally it’s break time. I’m starving.” F/n said, stretching her arms.

“Yeah let’s hurry before the line gets too long.” You then run to the canteen and buy lunch. You walk toward an empty table and start eating while talking to each other. All of a sudden, everyone around starts to look at the same direction and whispering to each other. You and F/n also got curious and try to look at what everyone is looking at.

There you can see Shinyu and his friends walking to the canteen. Their effects are no joke, even their mere presence can make people stop and admire them. Your friend shot you a teasing look, with you just shaking your head and continue eating. You heard footsteps coming towards your direction but you shrug it off, thinking someone is just passing by, until you hear someone clear their throat.

“Ahem…excuse me. There’s no empty table left so can we sit with you guys?” Someone asked. You and your friend look at the newcomers, suprised to see Shinyu and the others in front of you. F/n stutters for a bit before she managed to say yes. Now, you’re sitting between Shinyu and Hanjin with F/n in front of you between Youngjae and Jihoon. Kyungmin sits next to Shinyu while Dohoon sits next to Youngjae.

“Thank you for letting us sit here. Otherwise, we might have to sit on the floor instead. Jihoon joked, looking at you and F/n. You laughed, saying it’s no problem. As you guys eat, you can’t help but notice how Shinyu sometimes looks at you. You hope it’s not because of earlier.

“Hey aren’t you the girl from earlier?”

Well shit.

“Wait this is the girl that bumped into you earlier? Waahh hyung no wonder you can’t stop talking about h-“ Shinyu immediately covers Kyungmin’s mouth, desperately trying to keep him from continuing his line. Luckily you didn’t quite catch what he just said, but your friend sure did, giving you a mischievous look.

“Don’t listen to what he’s saying. Anyways I’m sorry again for earlier.” He said, seemingly still thinking about what happened. You shake your head while giving him a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. It was just an accident, I also wasn’t looking where I was going.” You said. “And here I was thinking you’d forget about it by now.” You joked. He hides his face from you, maybe still embarrassed about it? You’re not sure.

“Hahaha hyung, your ears are red. Relax, it happens to anyone don’t let it bother you that much.” Dohoon said. They then eat and make a joke every now and then, and they sometimes include you and F/n too. It seems that they are already comfortable with you guys.

Youngjae, as responsible as ever, looks at his phone and reminded you all, “It’s almost time for the next class. We need to go now if we don’t want to be late.” You all cleaned the table and about to go to your separate ways to your own classroom. Unfortunately, F/n suddenly feels sick and has to go to the infirmary. You offered to accompany her but she insisted that she can go alone. Youngjae offered to go to the infirmary with her although she refused at first, he also insisted and ended up going together.

Shinyu walked up to you hesitantly, looking anywhere but you. “Uh…do you want me to walk you to your class? You know, since your friend seems to be sick and won’t be able to come to class with you.” He offered. You wanted to refused at first, really don’t want to bother him, but Hanjin suddenly popped out.

“Just let him walk you to class, otherwise he’s going to be sulking for the rest of the day.” Shinyu turned to Hanjin and playfully hit him. You can’t help but find the situation cute. You decided to take his offer and now you’re walking together to your class. It was a little awkward because none of you were talking so you were about to open a conversation when he once again beats you to it.

“I just realized that I never got your name. May I know your name please?” He asked. You looked at him, realizing that you know him but he obviously doesn’t know you since you’re not as well known as him.

“Oh my name is Y/n.” You introduced yourself. He nodded and proceeds to ask more questions about you, with you answering and also asking something about him in return. It doesn’t take long for you guys to reach your classroom. You turned to him to let him know that this is your class.

“Alright, I’ll see you around then.” He started to walk away but stopped abruptly. You looked at him confused when he turned to you again. He walked up to you again and he looks nervous.

“Um…Can I…can I have your number? It’s fine if you don’t because we technically just got to know each other today and-“ before he can continue to ramble you held out your hand to him. He looks at your hand and then at you in confusion until it clicked and he hurriedly went to grab his phone from his pocket. He gave you his phone and you put your number in his contacts. You returned his phone to him and he looks at his screen.

“Thank you. I’ll add you to our group chat later. Oh and you can give me your friend’s phone number too so I can also add her to the group chat. Anyways I think I should go now. I’ll see you later, bye.” He then ran off to his class.

*****

You look at F/n worriedly.

“Are you sure you’re ok now?” You asked, wanted to make sure she’s really ok.

“Yes I’m fine now. But you know I actually feel thankful that I felt sick because I get to walk with Youngjae together. Oh and he stayed in the infirmary until he absolutely sure I’ll be fine, isn’t that sweet?” She gushed, clearly not over her little interaction with Youngjae. Though you can’t blame her, anyone who’s in the same shoes as her would feel flustered at least.

A ‘ding’ comes from your phone. You checked to see that someone added to you a group chat.

???

Hyung who did you add just now?

???

It’s Y/n

???

Was that the girl that you walked to her classroom?

???

Yeah that’s her

You

Is this Shinyu’s group chat??

???

Yepp

Helloo I’m Kyungmin

???

This is Youngjae

???

Hanjin here

???

I’m Jihoon!!

???

And I’m Shinyu

Wait where’s Dohoon?

???

Sorry, I was still talking with someone

Wait let me scroll up for a sec

“Oh right F/n do you mind if I give your number to-“. you were cut off by another ‘ding’ to find that Youngjae added her to the group chat.

“Waahh he actually added me. Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked you.

“You also gave your number to him?” You asked. F/n laughed sheepishly as she nodded.

“But hey you also gave Shinyu your number too right? I’m not the only one.” She said. You looked back at your screen, reading the chats after adding all of their numbers.

Dohoon

Alright I’m done reading

Y/n and F/n, welcome to our group chat

Hanjin

Warning, we’re very active in this group chat

Kyungmin

But at least we’re fun :D

You

Lol it’s fine

Me and F/n always text each other too

F/n

I can vouch for that

Jihoon

Nicee

Anyways guys, can anyone help me with my homework?

Hanjin

We have homework?

Kyungmin

If it’s math I can help😊

But you have to treat me lunch in exchange😏

Youngjae

Our maknae is actually bargaining

He’s growing up so fast

Dohoon

Ikr🥲

Kyungmin

What

Jihoon

Deal!!

Just help me please🥺

Hanjin

I also need help!!

Let’s do it together

“Wow they’re actually really fun.” F/n said. You can’t help but agree with her. After texting with the boys and laughing at some of their responses, you and F/n grabbed your bags and leave the classroom as school is over already. F/n left first since she needed to go somewhere after school with her family while you need to put your stuff in your locker first. You were just done putting away your stuff when someone tapped your shoulder. You looked to see Shinyu, who is now smiling at you shyly.

“Hi, is your friend not with you?” He asked, looking around to see if he can spot F/n.

“No she left already. I needed to put my stuff in the locker first before leaving.” You answered him, closing the locker.

“I see…um…” he tries to say something but seems hesitant. You wait patiently for him, wondering what he wants to talk about. After taking a deep breath, he looks at you again with a slightly red face.

“Can I walk you home?”

You blinked, processing what he just said. After it clicked, you replied, “Huh? I mean I don’t want to bother you. You must be tired after school so-“

He cuts you off, “It’s fine. I’m fine with it, I don’t mind. I want to walk you home, you’re not bothering me. You know, I’ll be worried if you’re walking home alone. But you don’t have to say yes-I’m not forcing you to let me walk you home. I understand-“ this time you’re the one who cut him off.

“Haha alright. You can walk me home, thank you.” You accepted his request. He seems giddy, though he tries to hide it by suppressing his smile.

While you’re on the way to your house, you noticed how he subtly moved you to the safer side of the road and slowed down his steps to match yours. This makes you feel warm, appreciating his efforts to make you comfortable. As you walk, you continued your conversation from earlier and get to know each other better. For example, you now know that he has siblings and he’s the youngest, his hobby is drawing, etc. Eventually you reach your house, not even aware that you’ve walked so far already.

“This is my house. Thank you for walking me home Shinyu.” You thanked him again. “Be sure to text me once you’re home ok? Be safe.”

“I will. I’ll get going then. See you tomorrow Y/n.” He said, giving you a little wave before walking to his house. You waited a little bit until you can’t see him anymore before going inside your house. When you stepped inside, you find your mother looking at you with a teasing smile.

“So…who’s the boy?” She asked. You give her a deadpanned look.

“What? I can tell that he’s a nice boy, not to mention cute too. Is he your boyfriend?”

“Mom. Please don’t start with this.” You whined.

After you take a shower and changed into a more comfortable clothes, you noticed a notification popped out on your screen. You checked to see it’s from Shinyu, texting you that he’s home already. You smiled, texting him back and told him to rest. You texted each other for a long time until it’s time for you to sleep.

You

I have to sleep soon

Shinyu

Alright, it’s getting late anyways

Don’t stay up too late and get enough sleep

You don’t want to be sleepy for school tomorrow

You

Yes sir🫡

I’ll be off then

Goodnight Shinyu :)

Shinyu

Goodnight :)

Sleep well

You giggled, looking back at his texts. You really enjoy talking with Shinyu. Even though you only started talking to him today, you already feel comfortable around him.

*****

Ever since that day, you always talk to Shinyu and the others. You and F/n often secure seats at your table for them to join you guys in the canteen. You feel like you’re getting closer to them day by day and start to hang out with them even outside of school. Just a week ago, you and F/n were invited to go to the arcade by the boys. You played many games and be competitive with them, constantly challenging each other. It was really fun, but that day you have a certain moment that keeps replaying in your head.

*flashback*

You were waiting for F/n and Dohoon to finish their match in a basketball game when your eyes caught sight of a cute keychain in a claw machine.

“Do you want the keychain?” A voice suddenly said, startling you. Shinyu was beside you, looking at you and the keychain.

“Well it’s cute, but I’m not good at claw machines. Besides, usually these kind of games are rigged right?” You said. He hummed, and then proceeds to enter a coin to the machine.

“Wha-you don’t have to-“ you stopped whatever you wanted to say as you watch him play and successfully grabbed the keychain with the claw. It dropped the keychain to the hole and he grabs it, giving it to you.

“This is the one that you wanted right?” He asked, worried that he got the wrong one. It doesn’t really matter to him, he can just play it again until he gets what you wanted. You look at him in disbelief before laughing.

“Yeah that’s the one. Thank you for getting this for me.” You thanked him.

“No problem. Oh I think they’re done already. Want to go over there now?”

“HAHA I WIN!”

“WAIT I DEMAND A REMATCH!!”

*flashback ended*

You giggled, feeling your heart flutter at the fond memory. You’ve realized that you have feelings for Shinyu for a while now. You don’t know when you started to like him, maybe it’s when he helped you with your studies in the library with him patiently explaining the lessons to you. Or when he invited you to see them dance as they’re in a dance club and you could see the passion in him when he danced. Or maybe that one time when he asked your opinion about his self written rap. After months of getting to know him, you’ve known him not as a popular boy in school but as a shy but reliable guy who can be really competitive in games, as someone who really enjoys dancing, singing and rapping, and as someone who also has a playful and clumsy side. He’s caring towards those who he feels close to, always making sure they’re ok.

But of course, because he’s popular, many people are jealous of your interactions with him.

*****

You were minding your own business when suddenly someone grabbed your hair and slammed you into the wall. You winced in pain, looking at the girls in front of you.

“You bitch. How dare you hang around Shinyu?” One of them sneered and hit you.

“Who even are you? You’re a nobody, and he’s the most popular boy in this school. Do you really think that you’re worth even be in the same place as him?” Another girl said, laughing at you.

You looked around to see students gathering around, but no one bothers to help you. Either they’re too scared or they also agree with the girls. You screamed in pain when one of them kicked you.

“HEY WE’RE OVER HERE! ARE YOU REALLY THAT STUPID TO UNDERSTAND US?” She yelled.

“Don’t ever come near him again or else-“

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” A loud voice yelled, making everyone freeze and look towards the source of the voice. You were suprised to see Shinyu, even more so when you noticed how angry he looks right now as he makes his way towards you and the girls.

“S-Shinyu. We were just-“ one of them tried to say something when he cuts her off.

“Do you think I’m blind? Clearly you’re bullying her and for what? For being friends with me? I can decide who I want to be friends with and you can’t change that. Now if you don’t apologize to her right now I’m going to report you to the teachers.” He threatened, glaring at the girls. You have to admit he looks intimidating right now. He then kneels down to you to check for any injuries, glaring at the girls when he hears no apology. They flinched, immediately said sorry and ran away. He then proceeds to give every student who gathers around them a disappointed look.

“You all are no better. Why are you just watching when someone is being hurt? I hope you all are disappointed in yourselves. Shame on you all for allowing this kind of behavior to happen.” They all look guilty as they start to walk away. After that, he gives you his attention again.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry for not being here earlier. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He said softly, suddenly lifting you up bridal style. You yelped in surprised, arms immediately warped around his neck.

“S-Shinyu-I can walk by my own-“ you tried to get him to put you down but he refused. After arriving at the infirmary, the nurse was nowhere to be seen, so he puts you on the infirmary bed gently and takes it upon himself to help with your injuries.

None of you are saying anything as he treats your wounds until you decided to speak.

“I’m sorry for troubling you. I didn’t expect-“

“Don’t apologize.” He suddenly said. You looked at him. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks troubled.

“Don’t ever apologize for this. This is not your fault. You don’t need to feel guilty about this.” He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“If anything, I’m sorry for letting this happen to you. I didn’t realize that by being close with you would mean that a lot of people would dislike you to the point of hurting you. If I had known I would’ve-“

“Shinyu.” He stopped himself after hearing you talk.

“You said that this is not my fault, then this is not your fault either. You wouldn’t have known something like this would happen. So what? Does that mean you regret befriending me? Are you regretting the fact that we’ve become so close now?”

“Of course not!” He denied. “I would never regret being friends with you. I would never regret letting myself be close with you. In fact, I’m really thankful for the day you bumped into me.” Now this makes your eyes widen. He then continued, “If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have ever met you. I wouldn’t be talking with you, hanging out with you, I wouldn’t-“. he stopped talking, debating whether he should continue or not.

“I wouldn’t be able to fall inlove with you.”

You gasped, clearly didn’t expect him to confess. This whole time you thought he only saw you as a friend but thinking back at it now, there are times where he acts like someone who doesn't just think of you as a friend.

“Shinyu…” you started, hands finding their way to his and hold them.

“I’m also inlove with you.” You confessed. He shots his head up to look at you. A minute has passed, and then two, then he starts blushing to the point where he almost looks like a tomato.

“W-what? Wait..you like me back? I- hang on I need to process this.” He pulled his hands from your hands to hide his face. You laughed at his reaction, trying to pry his hands away from his face.

“Shinyu don’t get shy on me now. You look really cute right now.” His face gets even more red as he tries to say something but failed.

“So…you really like me back?” He asked, finally mustered up the courage to look at you. You give him a smile as you nodded.

“Does that mean…we’re dating then? Are you my girlfriend now? Do you want to be my girlfriend? Can I be your boyfriend?” You hold yourself back from squishing his cheeks.

“Yes I’ll be your girlfriend as long as you’ll be my boyfriend.”

“YES! I’ll be your boyfriend!” He said, grabbing one of your hand and kissed it, making you blush in return.

“Woah weren’t you shy just a few seconds ago? How are you acting so bold now?”

“I mean…I am your boyfriend now right?” He said, smirking at your reaction.

*****

“So…you guys are together now?” F/n asked, looking at you and Shinyu who are holding hands.

“Yeah we’re in a relationship now.” You said. F/n and the rest of the boys gaped at the both of you. After that, they started cheering.

“YEESSS I KNEW THEY WOULD END UP TOGETHER!”

“Y/N YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WE HAVE TO GO THROUGH! NO OFFENSE WE LIKE YOU AND ALL BUT HE WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT YOU-“

“HEY WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THAT UP?”

Shinyu went towards the boys and playfully banter with them. Meanwhile, you walk over to F/n.

“So…when are you going to confess to Youngjae?” You asked her.

“Ssshhh. You don’t get to say that after months of pining for each other. How did you not notice how he practically gave you heart eyes?”

You rolled your eyes at her, smacking her shoulder lightly. Shinyu then make his way to you after F/n walks over to the boys to discuss probably more list of him being a simp towards you and hugged you.

“Hmm?? Why the sudden hug?” You asked, returning the hug, not complaining and instead enjoying the warmth he gives off. He then tightens the hug, not wanting to let go.

“Mm, I just really like you.”

——————————————————————————

[blackwoodwinter]

Kinktober/Monsterfucking Day 1 Vampire Bf

For all purpose this vampire will be named Lucien

Male vampire x afb reader

Lucien has been alive for centuries the daily mundane being a blended world of grey and repeated stories. And then you come along and something in him is reawakened for the first time in years, no decades, centuries…. And so the hunt is on.

Flowers, heaps of flowers, at your doorstep your work, left at your bed side with a note written in the most elegant of cursive. Jewelry of all kinds, pearl, sapphires, diamonds, in gold or silver if you prefer.He’s an old romantic he’d love to steal you away but the gentleman at heart knows the key to your heart is to win you over.

Finally you decided to give him a chance. Invite him in. He’s basically bouncing at your front door like a lost puppy his pouting lips hinting the corners of his fangs. Its late at night invite him in, let him cross the boundaries of your threshold, please oh pleasee let him come inside.

Once he’s inside in pounces on you. Lucien has always had a hard time controlling his hunger, but my god, your is scent intoxicating, drooling as his kisses you, his fangs gently scrapping your bottom lip as he drinks you in. He might just tear into you and drain you dry but he manages of hold himself off long enough to guide you on the bed and lay you down.

Icy cold skin to touch, you feel goosebumps rise as one hand slides up your leg and the other under your shirt. Stifling a gasp you feel cold fingers caress your sides and go up to cusp your breast. His cold body is curse and a blessing each caress send a new wave of pleasuring shivers down your spine, and between your legs.

Lucien is no better, drunk with your scent and craving your warmth he presses himself against you. He craves your body heat, and when you run your warm fingers through his hair the sensation is enough to make him whimper.

Running up your own hands on his chest he nearly cums when you touch the sensitive flesh of his chest and nipples to the heart of your body. Centuries of isolation has left him needy and desperate for touch.

Flipping you over he presses his cock against your ass grinding on you. You feel his harden cock strained against the fabric of his pants. Your own cunt wet with anticipation drenching your panties.

Finally he can’t resist you, practically shredding off your clothes he finally let his cock out pumping it as he straddles. Legs wrapped around his waist you admire his form and cock before his presses the leaking tip into your wet pussy.

He nearly collapses on the spot. The warm wet softness of you pussy tightening, sucking him almost make him cum inside instantly. He’s cunt drunk and hasn’t even started. Still he manages to gather himself and starts thrusting viscously in you. Such a prefect pussy deserves to get fucked and treated good.

Centuries of being alone with no partner and now you’re hear alive warm and oh so wet swallowing up his cock with such a perfect pussy. He’s pace is fast, moaning into your ear like a feral animal. With out warming he has your legs over his shoulder making sure you can’t escape him. Folding you into a mating press he makes sure his cock gets buried deep hitting every sweet crevice of your cunt making you scream his name with each stroke.

Rutting into you with feral vigor, he drags his fangs down your neck teasingly nipping at your throat over your jugular. Kissing down onto the soft flesh of your shoulder he litters you with bloody kisses as he bites down. His fangs piercing the soft flesh drawing out small pearls on blood. By the end of the night much to your shook you’ll be covered in bloody hickies.

Clawing at his back and you mewl begging him to slow down,but not to stop, to have mercy on your poor squelching pussy you finally cry out you cumming. You cumming, you’re cumming, oh how delicious he thinks. Grinning he places a sloppy kiss on your lips to muffle your lewd moaning. Digging his sharps nails into your hips, you yelp at the sensation before being slammed down onto his cock. Balls slapping against your ass as he ruts deeper and faster into you. Crying for mercy as you feel your core tighten, and the walls of your pussy quiver around his cock, you can only claw his back drawing out bright red marks across his back in hopes he’ll slow down.

Pulling away from the kiss a thick rope of droll with a faint tint of blood extends from your lips. Nuzzling his head at the crooks of your next he smells your scent, your sweat, your sex in one power perfume clouding his mind. Lazily he licks at your neck as he trust into you. Feeling you pussy tighten squeezing the cum out his cock, he jaw spreads open snapping around your throat as his fangs burry deep.

Oh he drinks as he grinds into you shooting ropes of cum into your crevice, all while you cum around his cock. The chemical release of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin as you orgasm make your blood rich and sweet and Lucien drinks greedily. His mouth running red and thick with your blood. Trickles of blood run down your bed staining the sheets. (Not that you’ll have to worry about it, Lucien will simply replace the, with satin or silk bedsheets. Only the best for his beloved.).

Lapping away at the crimson river flowing from your neck he drinks enough to be satisfied and leave you dizzy. Chest heaving he lies next you admiring your form, savoring your taste. Maw red and glistening he smiles sweetly at you before leaning into kiss. You taste his saliva and the rich iron of your own blood, staining your lips and mouth a messy red as he kisses you deeply.

When he pulls away he pulls you in closer as you drift away into an exhausted sleep. Lovingly he feeds off your warmth and remains awake admiring your sleep until too is lulled away into a satisfied slumber.

[lilibethwrites]

Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

Warnings: Angst, heavy violence, eventual smut, Targcest. This will be a very dark fic with potentially multiple disturbing or triggering elements. Each chapter will have warnings accordingly.

Summary: Rhaenyra’s firstborn daughter, Aelenore Velaryon is as vicious as she is ambitious. Growing up knowing she is a bastard and bitterly rejected by Prince Daemon, when she finds herself beginning to lose the favour of her family and infatuated with Aemond, an opportunity to earn more than any woman can have in the Seven Kingdoms presents itself. With a man as broken and wronged as herself, they burn everything around them to feel the warmth denied to them, even if their own flesh may catch on fire. Ambition and greed beget violence, and the blood of the dragon spills like wine.

Word count: 6k

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And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

(Richard III, I.i.37–40)

It was a humid, scorching summer’s eve. The flowers of the royal garden had all turned shades of burned pigments heated over a candle for too long. Grasshoppers lay heavy where they had ceased flapping their wings. The nightingales that lent their name to the hour were quiet. It was only Princess Rhaenyra’s wails and groans peppered with curses and insults that echoed off the polished walls of the Red Keep. The heir to the throne, the beloved daughter of King Viserys has been in labour for so long that the younger Maesters made to stand back and observe behind the ranks of seniors and midwives began to whisper the long winter would come before the babe ever did.

Some wondered where Ser Laenor was, others remarked that it was the Breakbones pacing the hall beyond the door, and that it was rather odd that the Commander of the City Watch took such interest in the first labour of the princess.

But the babe came, persistent as she was in remaining in the womb as if she possessed prescience enough to know the realm she was brought into would have no joy to offer.

With the blood still on her, Rhaenyra cradled the babe to her bare chest, weeping and thanking the gods of old. Even a slight rub of her hand over the babe’s head was enough to furrow brows and a new wave of mumbling to rise as if dust after her dragon’s landing. Dark hair; unmistakably, uncharacteristically dark, like the night she was delivered. Dark hair, unlike the kind on the head of the second son Queen Alicent had recently delivered in a chamber nearby.

Ser Laenor was the first to see the babe, though she was cleaned and swaddled in an ornately embroidered blanket that could tear down and rebuild the entire Flea Bottom with how many yards of soft velvet and spools of gold threads it took to weave, then.

Then joined them Harwin Strong, and only then the babe was lifted from Rhaenyra’s arms, and given a name.

“Aelenore,” Rhaenyra said proudly, still keen on the name she had come across in a tome on Old Valyria while the babe was no bigger than a fig in her belly.

“Aelenore,” Ser Harwin Strong raised the babe to his chest and whispered in her ear as Ser Laenor looked on with a proud, warm smile.

By late morrow, King Viserys was cradling his first grandchild, a babe he hadn’t once found unlikely to be the fruit of the marriage he had imposed upon two young people with the blood of Valyria in their veins.

King Viserys blessed the babe’s name, with the swaddle in his arms and pride in his eyes.

“Princess Aelenore Velaryon,” he declared, “may her life be long and prosperous.”

He commended his daughter and her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. Yet, Queen Alicent did not share the spirit of festivities. Having given birth to her third babe recently, another boy with the proud colours of Old Valyria, her brows creased when she beheld the babe in her husband’s arms.

Neither Aegon nor Aemond, the heirs Viserys so desperately desired that he would butcher his lover, were welcomed into the world as fervently as her husband’s first grandchild was by him.

The King was still in his prime, then, and he could pace the chamber with the babe in his arms until he grew restless, then, he would tour the shorter halls, stop by alcoves with stones warmed by the broiling sun. He accepted praises and well wishes from his court, with Rhaenyra still reclined on a chaise and Queen Alicent left alone with her.

“Congratulations,” she begrudgingly said at last.

The room was cold with resentment, and the bodies that filled it were all stiff like corpses washed ashore.

“My congratulations, as well,” Rhaenyra repaid the kindness, or the visage of it, just before Aelenore was returned.

“Rather short and without a fuss, mine own labour was,” the Queen spoke without patience at her stepdaughter’s nonchalant disregard of the rules of nature herself. Bastards were cursed, this, everyone knew. Bad omens; treacherous, sly, with deformed souls and frightening capacity for evil.

“And a rather unmistakable likeness to his sire, Aemond bears… Though, ‘tis only the first of yours,” she spoke disdainfully, then. The gentle tone with which she spoke couldn’t veil the anger stirring within her.

“I shall pray that the Gods will give you a babe that resembles… either of you next time.” Her smile was bitter, her eyes hostile.

Yet, the Gods didn’t. Next came a brother for Aelenore, with the same dark hair that tended to curl into ringlets. Aelenore gave up her toys, save for a wooden replica of her quickly growing dragon, to instead spend her waking hours near her brother. Not long after came Lucerys. Aelenore was grown enough then to participate in at least the first hour of the labour with her hand on her mother’s swollen belly. After that, she was hastily escorted out to wait along with the rest of the court. Such sights were not for a girl who would labour in a birthing bed of her own eventually.

Rhaenyra was not allowed to ever forget it, that her firstborn child was no true Targaryen, and none other that came after was any different. As if she knew from when she was a babe the meaning behind hushed whispers hidden with jewelled fingers and curious looks with thinly veiled disdain, Aelenore grew into a difficult character, unfriendly to all save her siblings.

It was King Viserys’s suggestion that the girl might enjoy playtime with a boy senior to her only by a year, and a quiet girl that never cried unless pinched or spooked. It was one of the rare times Viserys remembered at all that he had other children beyond his beloved Rhaenyra. So, Aelenore was brought with her basket of carved and painted toys to the chamber where Aegon, Helaena and Aemond were tended to. She sulked the entire time, ignoring her much-loved toys to attempt to rip the carpet out with her fingernails whenever she wasn’t attempting to decapitate her uncles with her eyes. She resented them, she suffered terribly from green-eyed jealousy that she spent all the hours thinking of all the ways she could upset the boys. She wondered if their hair would stain if she boiled flowers torn from the gardens, and dropped the concoction over their heads. She wondered if she could sneak a pair of scissors the next time royal seamstresses came to measure her for a new dress. She could chop a braid right off, or cut through the tomes the boy closer to her in age seemed to be mesmerised with. But, she never had another hour with them after the first few disastrous ones, and so her plans never came to fruition.

Aelenore surprised not a soul when she grew into a brooding young princess; quiet yet unsettling with eyes severe and pale as the smoke dancing over the sea. She was old enough to understand what it meant that her eyes were grey as a rainy morrow, and her hair dark as earth after the heavy clouds passed. She was swiftly assigned a Maester to be tutored in the proud history of her blood. She found it a rather cheap charade, and her lips were often twisted into an irreverent, lopsided smirk as the Maester harped on.

“I know what I am,” she once told her mother over tea. “I do not wish to entertain trivial lies anymore.”

But Rhaenyra was patient with her, and each time Aelenore brought the subject up, she took her hand and asked her if a child without the blood of Valyria could ever ride a dragon. To that, Aelenore shook her head. The more she was posed with the impossibility of her inferior nature by virtue of the beautiful wyrm resting in the Pit, the more her self-disdain turned to vanity.

The court was reminded of the unruly princess in her youth when her daughter insisted that she would only ever wear her riding habits. Even to breakfasts and lessons, she would don coats and trousers with gloves always neatly tucked around a belt or hanging from a pocket, and always complete with a jewelled pin of dragons.

She was a curious young woman, raining questions down upon anyone nearby about Valyria and dragons. When she wasn’t interrogating the Maesters of the Red Keep or unsettling the courtiers with her unwavering gaze set upon anyone she suspected to have whispered about her, or eating, reading and writing near her beloved dragon, she fast became a second mother to Lucerys, demanding that she learned all she could about tending to a babe. To anyone except Rhaenyra, Ser Laenor and Ser Harwin, it was so unlike that a child as cold as her eyes would ever possess the capacity for affection. Even then, they watched her with well-concealed fright when she looked over the bassinet for the first few times. Lucerys must have immediately taken a liking to his sister as well; where Rhaenyra, Leanor Velaryon and Harwin Strong all failed to lull him to sleep, Aelenore managed to soothe the fussy babe into slumber with ease that surprised even the most weathered of wetnurses.

She was proud when Lucerys’s egg hatched, swelling her chest and proclaiming that it was her choice, that egg. Luke, Jace, and Nole, as she was so adoringly and adorably called by Luke from the moment he could speak, the three siblings became inseparable... and perhaps, rather insufferable to some. They loved mischief. From tying buckets of cold water over doors to soak Maesters at early morning lectures, spilling ink on the newly-washed garbs of Septas and Septons when they delivered the daily service of the Seven, taking their dragons out of the Pit to stomp around and frightening the poor smallfolk nearby, they have become a trio of terror. Aelenore was the mastermind, the one that came up with jokes and pranks bordered on cruelty while Lucerys and Jacaerys gladly played her henchmen. Aemond had his fair share when he found his neatly written summary of a manuscript on Valyrian traditions torn to pieces on his assigned desk and the siblings missing from the lecture altogether, or when his book was drenched in ink so badly he couldn’t read a word anymore while Aelenore and Jacaerys were markedly keeping their hands gloved and under a table or behind their backs the whole day.

“I wish they would go away,” Aemond once complained to his mother. He needn’t name them.

“I know,” was all the woman could offer, and a sweet kiss to the growing boy’s temple. She was helpless in the matter; Viserys loved Rhaenyra and his grandchildren more than he ever did Alicent or the babes she produced.

Aelenore still dreamed of staining and chopping silver hairs and upsetting her uncles, though less often with her mind always on her beloved pale and crimson, slender Naerax. On the opposite end of the wing, curled up on his bed, however, Aemond began to dream of upsetting his niece, as well. He couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere as cruel and calloused as she was, and whenever his fists were squeezed into balls and he attempted to strike back with a sharp word, Aelenore happened to rub her thumb over the silver three-headed dragon pinned to her collar, and the boy stepped back.

“He’s not a real Targaryen,” she began to say to her peers, pompously and with a grotesquely mature lilt to her tone. “I am. Hair makes a man not Targaryen, but the dragon that resides within the Pit.”

On the morrow when she greeted Aemond with a smile, he thought perhaps Aelenore could yet be a friend to him despite all the mockery and cruelty. She even abandoned her usual seat between her brute of brothers and instead sat next to Aemond. He suspected she needed his neatly drawn table of irregular verbs in High Valyrian for the lesson on the afternoon, but instead, she leaned over and promised him “a grand surprise” after lunch. She claimed it was an offer of friendship, to start anew.

“What is it?” He asked, cautious still but naively excited deep down.

“Would hardly be a surprise if I said, no?”

Just a few hours after, the blush was wiped from his cheeks. His face was dirt and tear-stained; he was in Alicent’s arms, bemoaning that the grand surprise was a pig with haphazardly attached wings and his own brother in on the terrible spectacle, laughing along with the rest of them.

When Helaena’s sight came true, Aemond didn’t only find trading an eye for a dragon—the biggest and the mightiest of the realm, that was— fair. He found it a payment, a rather steep but justified cost for his prayers that Rhaenyra and her children be removed. They were. As Aemond mounted Vhagar and followed the ship that carried his family back to King’s Landing, Rhaenyra and her kin made for Dragonstone.

He found the Red Keep opened up to him with the chambers of his tormentors vacant and halls safe to roam as he pleased. The library was all his, the tutoring chamber was freed of pranks and loud chatter when it should have always been a quiet, contemplative haven of studies. He came and went as he pleased without ever having to look over his shoulder. He had Ser Criston all to himself, as well, since Aegon delved too deep into his cups to participate in sword practice.

Years passed easier for Aemond, and faster, too. A punctual man down to the mere second, he awoke, followed his schedule and slumbered expeditiously, never a minute off. He was Alicent’s honour and pride, as well as her one true friend. Days never started or ended without a visit from her beloved son, even if all they did was sit in silence by the fireplace and sip tea or wine.

It was one such day, though Aemond would look back on it later and recognise the omens that had eluded him. He was up much earlier than he should’ve been. The hour was so early that the sky was still dark. He turned to the window, and then, frustratedly, gave his back to it. He pulled the covers over his naked shoulder, then, pushed them down to his waist. He hugged a pillow to his chest, then, pushed it away, too. Nothing helped, and he knew he would go through his day exhausted, with merely a few hours of sleep.

So, he bathed longer, dressed slower, and visited Queen Alicent before breakfast. She gave him a smile that would’ve seemed like all the other smiles to any other eyes. Aemond, however, saw distress from the way his mother’s lips pursed.

He wasn’t one for empty niceties or belabouring, so his hands shifted from Alicent’s elbows to her wrists, to the raw and picked cuticles.

“Tell me, mother.”

Alicent shook her head at first, and stared out of the stained-glass windows. She knew she would be delaying the inevitable, her discomfort hardly ever eluded Aemond. She knew he would abandon his entire day’s plans to sit here with her, caring and stubborn, until she told him.

“We shall have visitors soon,” she spoke through clenched teeth, her eyes shifting to the missive left on the table where Criston had delivered it.

The downturn of Alicent’s mouth was nearly enough, though Aemond still cocked his head in a quiet question. Who?

Alicent scoffed, looking down at her son’s pale, graceful hands.

“Princess Rhaenyra and her children. Prince Daemon along with them, of course.”

If Aemond had had !breakfast, it would have heaved in his stomach.

“Why?” He nearly lamented after a moment’s silence.

“Why?!” Aelenore echoed petulantly across the sea, on Dragonstone. “Why must we go? Can you not go alone?!”

Aelenore was happy on Dragonstone. The entire land from the shores to the peaks of volcanoes was her oyster. She woke up as she pleased, strolled and flew to her heart’s desire. No one was there to accuse her own acting untoward when she unlaced her boots, uncuffed her sleeves and chased Luke across the sandy beach and the waves carried their joyous screams while their dragons flew overhead.

King’s Landing was stifling. The Red Keep’s stones did make a prison and the stained windows a cage. Aelenore almost forgot she didn’t look the part of Princess Rhaenyra’s daughter on Dragonstone. Unless Prince Daemon’s cold gaze lingered, she hardly thought of how would it be to have silver hair and violet eyes, and if they would indeed escalate one above men all by themselves. She would be abandoning her home for a sea of pale hairs and hostile eyes.

“Because,” Rhaenyra sighed over the cup she nursed as men paced around the room hurriedly. “Your grandsire’s health is in fast decline.”

“That cannot be all. We are not Maesters. What good are we to his decay?”

“But we are bringing Maesters of our own… I do not quite like you when you are so… without compassion.”

So, Prince Daemon spoke, and her mother listened, then? The conviction wasn’t Rhaenyra’s, Aelenore knew. She remained quiet yet didn’t make a move to leave the hall.

“The matter of your brother’s inheritance must be resolved,” Rhaenyra spoke again after a surrendering sigh. She only understood how difficult she had once been when her own stubbornness stared back at her.

“I will not let them rob Luke of what is rightfully his. We cannot permit it.”

Aelenore nodded to it. That, she would help her maids pack up for. That she would tolerate King’s Landing for.

“Thieves,” Aelenore spat. “They shall steal all their covetous eyes may fall upon.”

Rhaenyra shifted in her seat. She thought that Aelenore sounded too much like Daemon at times. Perhaps that was why the two were like wildfire and a burning candle.

For the following days, Aemond felt the transitory nature of all things deeply within him. Sometimes, when the halls were empty, he ran his fingers over the stone walls. Even to them he felt as though he was giving his farewell. For an hour or a moon, he would be robbed of the freedom he perhaps came to take for granted. They would be anywhere at any time; she, the head of the poisonous serpent, would be, and the rest would follow slithering.

On the morrow the entire King’s Landing crowded the crooked streets to catch a glimpse of the horde of dragons, Aemond watched the sky with disdain, with his arms folded behind him and the skin of this thumb picked so tragically alike his mother’s. The cavalry was led by Caraxes and Syrax, the unmistakable red and yellow that flew side by side. Behind them were three others, one in the front and two in the back, like an arrowhead loosened to pierce Aemond’s serenity. His eye was glued to the last two, looping around each other. The pale one with crimson wings and waxen belly that resembled Aemond curdled milk dipped and rose while the smaller, pearlescent-and-yellow one tried to sink his teeth into the elongated neck of the other.

Aemond looked to the side. Helaena didn’t seem to bother that they were so brazenly being marched upon, Aegon was hungover from a long night’s tryst to care; it was only his mother and Ser Criston among the Kingsguard that seemed tense. He would not have don a thing beyond an undershirt for a company as undeserving had it not been for Queen Alicent visiting his chambers, begging so selflessly for him to behave, for her if for nobody else.

When the heavy gates were pulled open and the vapid bunch marched on, it was only Alicent and Rhaenyra that shared a smile in courtesy. Prince Daemon’s chin was high, his nose was scrunched up as if the mere sight of the Keep nauseated him. Behind him, Jacaerys was nudging his sister and his younger brother to cease the gossip. Aemond’s eye fell and remained on the girl, taller and more mature, though only in appearance, since he last saw her. Her hair was down, though the damage to the curls showed it wasn’t always so freely flowing.

While Helaena simply embraced a new friend she barely remembered and Aegon was delighted that a pert arse under heavy skirts, pronounced waist squeezed by corsets and exposed flesh were now present to ogle, Aemond simply scoffed.

When it came to acknowledge her at all, Aemond nodded sharply. His greeting was as cold as the pale icicles that stared at him. Unsettling, he thought, her irises almost bled into the whites of her eyes. She simply nodded, as one would dismissively to a servant. Aemond’s arms were still folded behind him. He made no move to touch her; not to take her hand and press a kiss, not to offer a half-hearted hug. Aelenore didn’t seem willing to offer an olive branch either, with her gloved fingers tightly intertwined in front of her with an arrogant smirk plastered on her face.

Oh, how Aemond desired violence.

“What a warm welcome, this is,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for Aemond to hear and Lucerys to snicker.

Behind them, servants began to drag heavy packs to the Keep. Aemond hoped it was simply out of vanity that they each brought more changes of clothes than necessary. While their chambers were prepared, Rhaenyra insisted on a visit to the King. There, it was only willing ignorance that barely maintained Rhaenyra’s illusion of her daughter. The young princess barely approached the bed and pointedly kept a handkerchief to her nose. The King’s beloved first grandchild looked down upon him with disgust, sneering at the rotting body and the dying face as his hand was left untouched by her.

“Sweet girl…” Viserys strained to no avail.

“Grandsire,” Aelenore muttered coldly after Jacaerys nudged her once again. “Lovely to see you.”

Aelenore rolled her eyes after that, looking around the room and wondering what was for supper while his mother silently wept at the corner of her father’s bed.

If the exchange in the King’s chambers was cold, the supper was the never-melting ice of the North. Where Alicent was covered to her neck, Rhaenyra and her daughter wore dresses that left their shoulders bare, and as if that was not enough, the young princess’ sleeves were split from the highest seam to the cuffs, exposing the entirety of her arms each time she so much as breathed. Aemond shook his head again and again, stabbing the pie in his plate, his eye burning into the shameless woman sitting at his side. Aelenore barely wore headdresses, and barely pinned her hair all the way up. Queen Alicent shared her son’s mind, she was one busted seam away from a harlot of the Street of Silk.

Aelenore was all wrong, Aemond thought. Untoward, improper, exposed like a desperate wench of a cheap pillow house. She laughed loudly, she moved in a manner that was ill-fitting to a princess. Aemond looked to his side again, and his brother was already charmed. Aemond hummed. Of course he would be.

“Say, when has she… blossomed and—and, sprouted such teats, hm?” Aegon slurred behind his cup to Aemond.

“I would rather not think about her… flesh,” Aemond lowered his voice along with his head, “if it’s all the same to you, brother. You’d do well to remember your wife, as well.”

The banter was cut short by Rhaenyra’s dry cough. Onto the matters at hand. She shared a look with Daemon, and he nodded in support.

“For our Maesters to study and prepare cures of their own, we must needs give them sufficient time. A moon’s time,” Rhaenyra spoke.

“During that time, my children must not fall behind in their studies. Yet, to allow Maester Gerardys to work uninterrupted, the princess and the princes must share the library yet again.”

Aemond’s head shot up along with Aelenore’s. They wouldn’t look at each other, but they shared the same sentiment. No. Absolutely not.

“Oh? So, the princess will not trust our Maesters with the care of the King, but she will entrust her children to their lectures?” Alicent was bitter in response, her brows were knitted above the practised, tight smile of courtesy.

“I trust my children to know the truth from a lie.”

Come morrow, it was very little consolation to Aemond that Rhaenyra’s bastards might be feeling as discomfited about their forced reunion as he was. He paced his room and fiddled with the neat stacks of tomes and the line of inkwells. He was always early, three days early than a minute late, he often defended his being too early that the Maester soon began to feel guilty for his being on time and not as early as his pupil was. But that morning, he wouldn’t be.

“No,” Aemond murmured to himself. That might show a sense of eagerness, and present the three-headed serpent with an opportunity to bother him. Yet, how late he had thought he was, he wasn’t as late as his tutoring partners. It was only Maester when Aemond took his seat, and it remained so for one full turn of the hourglass before the door swung open.

Aelenore was the first to enter, snickering with a tome under her arm and in yet another dress that bared more than concealed for Aemond’s taste.

“Oh?” she stopped in her tracks as though she expected the chamber to be empty, and looked back at her brothers, who were just as vain and proud of the interruption.

Aemond squeezed his fist under the table, dug his nails into his palm and with a clenched jaw, stared ahead and away from the girl that stood between him and the Maester.

“I see you start terribly earlier than Maester Gerardys does on Dragonstone. My brothers and I are rather fond of late eves, might it be that—”

Unapologetic. Proud. Without shame or decorum, Aemond thought to himself, the true mark of a bastard. Rotten to the core, a scourge. The Gods are truly testing us this time.

“And I am fond of order and duty. We shall be at odds, it seems,” he spoke up with vitriol the likes he hadn’t allowed to bubble up to the surface in so long.

Aelenore turned to him with a raised brow and a bemused smirk. At least her words were not lies, her eyes were swollen from slumber with a faint touch of darkness around them, only exacerbated by how pale her irises were.

“So it seems, Prince Aemond.”

She took her seat right next to Aemond, then, with her brothers by her side. The entire session was marred by their obnoxious giggling and the passing of notes. Aemond wondered why they would even bother to show up, though he reminded himself to be easy on them. It wasn’t their blood nor their history that was taught. Very little must have concerned them beyond a mere mention of a Valyrian lord and his harem that made the boys snicker.

As soon as the morning’s tutoring was concluded, Aemond departed without so much as a nod to the Maester and with his belongings so uncharacteristically collected in haste. Large steps carried him to the comfort of the secluded corner of the Keep’s larger library, to the dim spot that became a second bedchamber to him. He went to scribbling angrily. He was distracted, his cursive was sloppy, his words out of order, his thoughts mismanaged. The treatise was all wrong, he knew, yet the more he crumpled up parchments and started anew, the worse it got.

He heard the clicking of heels on the stone floor, then. Curious, he thought, as Queen Alicent knew not to disturb Aemond unless an urgency demanded it. Yet, the heels that dragged without hurry didn’t denote any such urgency. For once, Aemond hoped to be wrong in his conjecture as he looked up from his work.

There she was, the bane of his peace, the curse of all the malicious spirits of Valyrian mythos. She had a thin stack of parchment in her hands, strolling as if she were in the gardens between aisles of tall bookshelves. Aemond watched her with the suspended fury of a dragon prepared to strike out of the dark. She stopped soon after, reached up for a book and only raised dust. She stepped back, looked around once again, and pulled a few heavier tomes without discrimination only to toss them to the floor and step on them. Aemond had half a mind to jump from his seat and strangle the girl. A barbarian would be more reverent than she was, he thought. Gods, the state of Dragonstone must make even an untaught common man weep. A wicked den of sin where the heraldry of the Seven must be mocked in orgies and the written word was torn from bindings to wipe the aftermath off.

“You again,” Aelenore’s contemptuous acknowledgement pulled Aemond out of his thoughts. “I was hoping to be alone.”

“You would be, if you remained in your chamber and spared us the displeasure of your company.”

How dare she? This very spot has been always his from the moment the pain in his eye subsided. Would she be so misled of the mind to think she could usurp his home?

Aelenore seemed unbothered by his retort. In fact, it was Aemond who was the more perplexed one. He expected all sorts of disgrace from her, yet such blatant disrespect from a prince would—should have sent any woman with a modicum of virtue fleeing from his presence in shame. He assumed even Aegon’s whores must be more dignified than Princess Eleanore. Some princess she made.

“Do you not have more… princely pastimes?” She retorted.

“Are scholarly endeavours not princely enough for you?”

“No. Scholarly work is a consolatory waste of time for those who are not befitting to don a sword or fly a dragon.”

Aelenore turned her back to Aemond without waiting for his response and tossed the book to a table nearby. She was used to having the final say so long as the addressee wasn’t Prince Daemon.

“Both I can do,” Aemond rose from his seat and followed her, aggravated and ready to prove his words should she question his proficiency with either.

“Hm. No doubt,” she snorted with her head buried in the old tome.

“Who are you to subject me to lowly mockery?!” Aemond thought to demand with his hands wrapped around her neck. It was slender enough that even a single hand would do, and her body was easy enough to fling out of the window. But instead, his hand moved to his eyepatch. A reminder, a reassurance, a prayer: It passed, this will, too. It passed, she will pass, too. Only a matter of time. All passes, the good and the bad.

“But how well is the question, is it not, Prince Aemond?” She spoke up again. It seemed it wasn’t only Aemond who wasn’t willing to conclude this exchange.

“You do have certain… odds against you, do you not?” She pulled back from the book with a menacing look and an ugly smirk that Aemond wanted nothing more than to cut from her face with a letter opener.

“You did start flying later than all of us, and the sword? With your… unfortunate circumstance… well.” Her cold gaze shifted so pointedly from his face to the sword leaning against his desk, then, back to him.

“If you wish to challenge me to a flight or a duel, say it so plainly, Princess,” he spat the title as if it were a curse.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Though I am surprised you wouldthink to take for an opponent a woman rather than your own sex.”

The Stranger’s mistress. A vermin. A freak of nature. Something to be eradicated, stomped out before it sprouts her branches further.

“Apologies. I mistook your brothers for proper princes, but they are not the kind to be your champions, are they?” The fire within him was stoked with each moment he spent standing near her. He knew it to be a mistake, a man in command of his emotions wouldn’t have entertained a bastard who clearly wished to drag him down to the depths of hell she swam in. Yet, Aemond remained as if stuck to the mast of a ship drifting towards tall rocks.

“They would much rather hide behind skirts than face me.”

“They would not face you, that much is true, though for entirely different reasons.” She didn’t give Aemond the chance to give in to his impulses entirely. In a matter that seemed radically different from the frivolous villain she has been so far, Aelenore discarded her quill and reasoned. Though she spoke too slowly for it not to be insulting at least in the slightest.

“Because I am no more pleased than you are that I am here and neither are my brothers. Yet, no blood shall be drawn as I would like to fancy us all, yes, even you, Aemond, above simple brutes or mindless animals. No iron shall be drawn, no duels shall be had. I assure you I count the days until I am gone more eagerly than you.”

Aemond remained quiet with his lips pursed and his eye slowly dragging across her face. Maybe she could be reasoned with, after all. But he reminded himself that a bastard’s oath was bound with a withering twig; an easy tug and it was undone.

Both Aelenore and Aemond stayed in their heads for a moment, staring at each other but entirely unseeing. Aemond thought of all the ways Aelenore had wronged him. He remembered how she had run to Jace and Luke, how she had kneeled by them, holding washcloths to their noses and lips while his eye was sewn shut by a needle about the size used to weave thick blankets. He remembered how she had encouraged the boys to speak up, how she was the one to give voice to them.

“Aemond” she had called him with disdain, “slandered the princes.” Princes. Bastards. Treacherous liars.

“He called my brothers bastards, mother,” she had spoken with false solemnity, her pale, lifeless eyes dragging from Rhaenyra to Viserys so deviously.

On the morrow, they had all laughed. They had broken fast, they had jested and chatted while Aemond’s life changed forever. That was her, that has always been her. An uncaring, dangerous creature in love with misery and misfortune so long as none befell her.

He realized she was indeed at his mercy then and there. He could claim an eye for his, perhaps do not stop there and cut an ear, too, for interest. Perhaps even half of her ugly, upturned nose that perpetually disdained everything it saw. Consequences be damned, he thought, yet his shoulders fell and he blinked out of trance all the same. He felt the familiar throbbing in the back of his head slowly creeping to surround the precious stone lodged in his eye.

“I do not want you here, in the library,” Aemond spoke sharply. He was threatening enough that Aelenore was no longer too eager to tease him. “Find yourself elsewhere to spread your rot.”

It was his turn to speak the final word, and Aemond spun on his heels to abandon his study and Aelenore both. For once, he would break his schedule to demand Ser Criston’s time without a prior appointment, and he would do unto a sturdy shield and a worthier opponent perhaps half of what he so passionately desired to do to the girl invading his sanctuary.

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

I always have had big feelings.

It's a curse and blessing.

When I love, I love with all my existence, so much that the love overflows and topples me over like a high tide on a full moon night. And when I hurt... I feel it everywhere. first, it tugs at my feet like the first big wave of the night and then it takes over me like a tsunami.

The hurt reverberates in me and echoes in everything I do. It burns my touches, my smiles and my breaths. The love emanates from me like radiation, everything glows bright and the lightness in my step makes the pavements look pink on a gloomy night. Being with you feels like a sunset, the pinks and oranges fading into an ultraviolet that brings me an incandescent smile. The calm after a day with blazing heat and raging Manhattan breeze feeding into the slow waves of the Hudson against the pier into a night so vibrant and blue it puts the city lights to shame. I chase the moon. As a child of feelings that eat me up the night protects me from judgmental eyes and wraps me in a blanket of comfort. As I lay there, on several dark nights, on city rooftops, shedding tears of red and gold, the moon stood right above me. The moon had been my best friend before I understood the meaning of the word in a moving human being. You feel like the moon comes down on the earth to be my best friend shining light on a dark stormy night. Like the one I come to during times of turbulence. Again, I am well aware these are feelings that aren't necessarily described as normal psychologically. but I have never been one for being "normal". I am too much for everyone and myself. I smile too much and cry too much. Ask too much and reveal too much. I shy away too much and achieve too much. I love too much and hate too much. I am sad too much and worry too much. I am alone too much and I push people away too much. I think about myself too much and wish I didn't disappoint people too much. I hurt too much and love too much. Yet all I crave is the intimacy of being understood. Everyone sees me, eviscerates me, points fingers at me, criticises me and admires me. Not many know me... Do I know me? Do I know you? What are you if not the pieces you have shown me... and if those pieces are anything to go by, I know we are similar.

You love a lot, with all your being. You love the trees, the sun, the moon, the wind, your friends and your family. To be loved by you would be a blessing from the heavens above. To be the one lighting up your eyes and making you turn red. To be the one who takes care of you and makes a fuss about you for once. I am scarred, everywhere outside and inside. The demons that I acquired in the game of life have poisoned my brain into believing I shouldn't deserve someone who can give so much pure unadulterated love. But I refuse to listen to them... I am scared, I always am. Too much (again). Disappointment has been my companion through the rough journies I have taken up until this point. To get disappointed by you and/or to disappoint you would be a shame. You remind me of me- the version who loves with no inhibitions and sees joy in nature. The image of you smiling at the sunset- a recurring occurrence, will forever be etched in my brain. That exact moment was when I fell in love with myself. Seeing you do something I used to do until I started letting people get to me and realising how beautiful your soul is when I fell for myself.

The pragmatic brain in me tells me that it is probably too soon for me to even believe I am in love with you, while the hopeless heart retorts that I fell in love with myself and that is the more important aspect. Is there a point to this rambling other than to detangle the mess in my brain? Not initially, but now the point seems to be the realisation I have had on exactly how deep my feelings could go. Added with the epiphany that I am not scared about it either. Once again, pragmatism and past pain should know better but I have always been the one to feel with all my being. So it only makes sense I feel this with every fibre cell, even the one still recovering from the last fall.

[spidervee]

hi helloo so happy your requests are open! can you do tangerine comforting reader when she’s upset? thank you queen v!

hello! thank you, sweets! here is some tangerine trying to be sweet and comforting. I hope you enjoy the direction I chose for this one 🌻🍊 18+ only; fem!reader, so much cursing and general irreverence; mentioned death of an animal, but it’s not meant to be angsty??

You’re weeping—damn near inconsolable, and Tangerine has no idea what to do. He’s already broken something; the lowball glass he’d been sipping whiskey from when you returned to the flat had shattered between his fingers when he first saw your tears, amber liquid spilling out onto the expensive rug though he couldn’t give half a fuck.

And then you’d gone and sunk to the floor, your back pressed up against the wall and now he’s hovering over you, hands moving quickly as they assess for damage, mouth automatically asking where Lemon is, though he knows Lemon is visiting his “friend” in Dublin for the next two weeks.

There’s no blood, yours or otherwise, on your person, and though your hands are trembling and your cheeks are streaked with hot tears, Tangerine knows there’s nothing physically wrong with you—which makes this so much fucking worse because he’s good at tossing a wet wipe on a cut or wrapping a half-arsed bandage on broken skin. But he’s much less adept (read: not at fucking all) at healing things on the inside. Christ, he can barely manage all three of his feelings (irritability, rage, and—somehow, thanks to you—love), let alone other people’s. This is much more Lemon’s bloody deal. Fuckin’ tosser had to be in Ireland, of all places, getting his end away and—Jesus. Fuck—a particularly loud sob makes him jump, makes him contemplate the logistics of buying two plane tickets to Dublin so Lemon can fix this.

“I k-killed him,” you wail, drawing your knees up into your chest, “I killed him T-tan…I didn’t m-mean to…” There’s a little bit of snot running from your nose and Tangerine is torn between wanting to fetch you a tissue and not wanting to take his eyes off of you for a moment. You look so bloody pathetic there, it makes his heart fuckin’ ache—something he thought it had lost the ability to do years ago.

Still, if this was a job gone tits up, maybe he wouldn’t need to buy plane tickets—a blessing because chances are on such short notice there’d only be economy seats left and, as much as he secretly adores you and wants nothing more than to whisper there fucking there and have you stop crying, the thought of a flight squished between two random twats is somehow worse than your tears.

“Killed who, love?” Tangerine tries to maintain a gentle tone. He’s not annoyed, not at all, not with you at least, but his voice, he knows, is always a bit on the wrong side of gruff.

A fresh wave of tears, followed by a small sniffle, has Tangerine coming down to the floor beside you and Christ if this isn’t proof he loves you, then what the fuck is?

“The sq—it was so small, Tan. And it just came out of nowhere and into the road.” Your voice tapers off into a horrified whisper and your bottom lip starts to tremble. Tangerine blinks, suddenly starting to understand.

“A squirrel? You ran over a bloody squirrel?” He can’t help but to sound relieved and you scowl at him, a little wounded. “Love,” he continues, cupping your face in his hands. The metal of his rings is cool against your heated skin and he smells like whiskey where it had run over his fingers. “You’re a goddamn assassin for hire and you’re crying over a fuckin’ squirrel?”

He sounds so perturbed that your tears start to turn to giggles and you hiccup. “He was innocent, Tan!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “But so was that poor bloke who got in your way in Budapest last week.”

A wince—Tangerine knows he’s got you. Maybe he’s not quite as bad at this as he thought. He can’t tell Lemon though—that muppet will somehow make it seem like he’s the one who taught Tangerine how to be good with people (read: he did, but no one other than the voice in Tangerine’s head needs to acknowledge that).

“That was…it was different,” you mumble, suddenly shy. You move to curl into yourself, but Tangerine is there instead, allowing you to curl into his chest and clutch the place where his shirt is unbuttoned slightly more than necessary.

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between agreement and amusement. “How’s it different, love?”

You pause for a moment, burying your face further into his chest, enjoying his smell and trying not to admit how much it calms you. “‘S’cause people fucking suck and squirrels don’t.”

Tangerine laughs and kisses the top of your head. “There’s my girl.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Field, Aura, Sensation

Hey, I’ve been rereading Snap and you mentioned that Roman has an invisible field of influence. I’d love a rolociet fic going more in depth to it. No worries if not! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: past emotional manipulation

Pairings: roloceit

Word Count: 1827

One of the blessed things about slow days is it gives Roman’s mind time to wander. There are no pressures of things he must do, no work that desperately needs to get completed, just lazy afternoons where he can let his brain spin. Days just like this, where Logan is working idly at something at the desk, Janus is napping on the bed next to him, and Roman is free to stare up at the ceiling. Surrounded by those he loves, nothing to keep him grounded when his mind holds something far more alluring…so he allows himself to drift away. 

Of course, one of the cursed things about slow days is it gives Roman’s mind time to wander. 

A more poetic person may have called it an aura. 

Logan is well aware of the irony of attempting to suss out a particular aspect of Creativity from a logical perspective. He and Roman have ended up on opposite sides—if the unintentional pun can be forgiven—of a conversation enough to make it clear that they are not, in many ways, sharing compatible viewpoints when it comes to the root causes of certain things. Rather, it is due to the fact that Roman himself seems unwilling to question something that intrigues him so; while he is not too proud to admit that Roman’s diligence and willpower when it comes to problem solving rivals his own, even at the best of times, he has never known him to so willingly concede a point when it does not have an answer. 

Thus, his investigations. 

At first, he was not aware of the field’s existence. Much like the quantum interactions of subatomic particles, he simply felt their effects without knowing that there was a forgive at work. Nevertheless, he was perturbed by Roman’s tendency—or what he perceived as Roman’s tendency—to project his own emotions during particularly heated discussions in an effort to sway the others to his side. Admittedly, it was difficult to extricate the emotions he himself felt at seeing Roman behave in a considerably dramatic fashion from what he was labeling as Roman’s emotions, and even more difficult to force himself to re-evaluate his own biases to determine what was actually going on. The nexus of the high emotions was typically Patton in most cases, as he was at the core of the majority of Thomas’s feelings, but those had their own distinct signature, so to speak. What he experienced with Roman was less a physical sensation in his own metaphysical chest or hut, but instead almost a wave that he would have to crest and ride, metaphorically speaking. Hence why at first he attributed it to something that Roman was doing on purpose: an offensive tactic intended to overwhelm his opponent. 

Later reflections will have him disquieted at how easily he likens Roman to attacking as his intention.

No, it had been sitting a conversation with Remus that Roman revealed that it was due to his presence in the Mindscape as the direct channel between Thomas, them as his Sides, and the greater Imagination. There were certain things he couldn’t prevent, including the undue influence over certain elements of the Mindscape’s rendering. IN a small area around Roman, his emotions could be felt as though they were the observer’s own. Roman could attempt to control the pervasiveness or strength of said emotions, but that skill waned with particularly strong emotions or high points of stress, as did most skills associated with regulation. Similar to how stopping ripples in the water was simpler if the object creating the ripples were moving slower or with less force. He was apologetic, however, if the field had caused Logan any discomfort, and he would do his best to ‘keep it to himself’ from now on. 

Logan would have him do no such thing. 

For all that he criticized Roman for being over dramatic, it was far more likely that Roman would exaggerate his reactions to certain things for comedic effect or to draw attention away from something that would actually cause him pain. As such, the field indicated when Roman was truly upset, which was…a staggering revelation. Roman was not the type to loudly declare his hurt. Not when it mattered. And Logan was guilty of far more than mistaking an involuntary response for a targeted manipulation. 

When one wishes to study any field, one must finely tune their instruments. He sought Roman out to ask about the field, to understand what it was that was happening, how he could respond to the field’s signifiers and help Roman figure out how to proceed. He was met with skepticism—which he does not fault Roman for in the slightest—but gradually, Roman began to explain. About how the feelings would ‘leak’ out of him, despite his best intentions to keep them in. About how he didn’t know if he could prevent the field’s existence at all. About how he was terrified of revealing this to the others, for fear of them reacting as Logan had initially. His fear became tangible seconds before he voiced it and Logan had laid a hand on his arm in reassurance, only to blink as it shifted to the hopeful apprehension of someone who did not know what was happening but desperately wished for it to continue. 

He could work with that. 

***

Janus had known about the field, yes, but he hadn’t known what it meant. 

It was an open secret at this point that Janus had accepted the fact that in order to get himself into Thomas’s good graces, he would need to step on a few toes to get there. It was even less of a secret that Roman was his first chosen rung. The Prince, the Ego, desperate for praise and validation, he wanted to believe and so Janus hadn’t had to give him much for him to come right along. He had his own sort of fondness for Roman as an actor, a performer, a liar in his own right, but in Roman’s subservience to Patton’s rigid morality, dismissed him as nothing more than, well, than a pawn. 

He was very careful not to mention such a thing to Remus during their initial planning phase, and with good reason. 

At first, when he noticed the field, he ascribed it to his own abilities instead of a feature of Roman’s. Something in his ability to sense lies, disguises, or true intentions. It was a helpful little guide of where to poke and prod the little prince into dancing to the right tune, or where to avoid if he didn’t want him to topple right over. Noticing that others could seemingly react to it the same way he did, well, that meant that clearly it wasn’t something he had to hide his knowledge of. It wasn’t until later, after he realized just how much damage he had done, that he knew just how badly he’d miscalculated. 

After he’d managed a secure enough foothold, and his approach had shifted, he noticed that Roman’s field had been…dampening. He’d mistaken that for Roman getting used to him, or his being less effective. And so he had poked and prodded relentlessly, chasing after the volatility he’d seen earlier. Logan had been the one to corner him and confront him about how much he’d been hurting Roman, something he’d brushed off as nothing to be overly concerned about, when he felt it. 

The wave. 

A tsunami might be a more appropriate description for how the hurt and pain and betrayal slammed into him and nearly knocked him off his feet, tears springing reflexively to the corners of his eyes as he whirled around. 

Roman had stood there. His expression was calm. He did not make a move towards him, only looked at Janus a moment longer before he turned and walked away, leaving Janus staring after him m with his own rising tide of emotion. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, no.

***

“Sweetie?”

Roman blinks, coming to with ungloved fingers carding through his hair. He looks up to see Janus watching him, soft concern written across his features. 

“You started to feel upset,” he says gently, and sure enough, over his shoulder he can see Logan looking up from his work, a similar expression on his face, “can we help at all?”

He shakes his head, trying to string words together as Janus keeps lightly scratching himself. “Just remembering.”

“What, Remus’s last attempt at spaghetti?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, I was…thinking about before you two…before.”

No more words are needed; Janus’s brow twinges with no small amount of guilt and regret, something he wishes he could smooth away, but he’s already leaning down to kiss his forehead, bare hands cupping his cheek and jaw. A small shuffling comes from Logan as he closes his notebook and comes over to join them, the bed dipping under his weight as he pulls Roman’s legs over his lap. 

“I didn’t mean—I know it’s different now, I don’t—“

“Hush, now,” Logan says in that soft and tender way that still leaves him breathless, “we know, dear heart. You don’t have to explain.”

“Can we do anything to make you feel better now?” Janus reaches for his other hand and brushes his lips across his knuckles. “Even if it’s something as small as telling you we love you?”

Heat rises gently to Roman’s cheeks and he can tell the field isn’t helping him hide it when a smirk crawls up Janus’s face and the next kiss to his hand is far more flirtatious. 

“Behave,” Logan warns lowly, reaching out and cupping the back of Roman’s neck to redirect his focus, “when was the last time you ate, Roman?”

“Uh, a few hours ago.”

“And had a drink?” His silence is enough of an answer. “I will get you some water, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” He catches Logan’s hand as he goes to pull away. “Can you—can you say it?”

Logan smiles and laces their fingers together, leaning down to kiss him, soft and chaste. “I love you, dear heart, now let me get you something to drink.”

“How are you going to tell me to behave,” comes Janus’s affronted voice, “and then you go and do that?”

Logan just chuckles and winks, leaving as Janus mumbles something else under his breath. Roman doesn’t have much of a reprieve, though; a few seconds later there’s a hand under his chin and he’s being pulled into another kiss, just as slow and sweet. 

“I love you too, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, not bothering to pull away more than an inch, “so very much. Let me make you feel better?”

“Are you going to use the field to cheat?”

He feels more than sees Janus’s lips curve into a smile. “Obviously.”

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[riotseas]

where things get worse before they get better, for @taleswritten

The air is thick and grimy, sticking to sweat like a second skin. The heat is unforgiving, merciless as it beats down from the afternoon sun. What shade their clothes give is embarrassing, only serving to sour their irritation further.

Joshua fans himself with the hood of his robe, pulled up and over his eyes. It helps, a little, but gives the dirty smog an invitation to start a coughing fit. He heaves into his arm, attempting to mask the sound so they can continue flying under the radar. Though scarcely stops in no thanks to the elbow that nudges between his shoulder blades, leaving him stumbling for footing.

❝ Really? ❞

Cid pats the space he'd just assaulted, laughing in a way that makes Joshua roll his eyes.

❝ Having trouble ? ❞

Refusing to be shown up by the older man, Joshua waves his arm away and resumes the trek onward. Everyone had strongly advised him to stay at base for one reason or another—which was simply not an option. He didn't bother arguing, proving his point; just tucked a blade beneath his tattered coat and told Cid to hurry—you're dawdling.

It's been too long, far too long for Joshua to waste another second.

They've walked for hours now, no breaks, scant pauses. His feet ached in a way they haven't since he'd woken from his longest slumber, finding the courage to use what he'd been given—' blessed ' . Perhaps nerves are getting to him, weighing sore and throbbing limbs down without grace. He doesn't care to maneuver himself carefully up the uneven cliffs or down the rocky hills, not when they're waiting for him.

Unassuming and brimming with a hope that's seemingly been lost to time, Joshua climbs up between a ridge of boulders, wiping away debris and other smaller rocks for a clear view.

❝ M' glad you're so eager, lad. But pace, will you ? I'm not as spry as I once was. ❞

He doesn't bother to hide his grin at Cid inadvertently calling himself old, but does shuffle aside to give the other room.

The smoke hasn't quite give way since they arrived. It's so dry in this part of Dhalmek, life actively avoids it like the plague. Pollution fills the skies and hides in trenches below—it's brilliant, honestly. The perfect place for battle; little chance to destroy anything of value, and those who die on the field can be tossed—hidden without a fuss.

❝ Cid. ❞ Joshua speaks, breathless.

❝ Hm ? ❞

❝ Over there— ❞

A hoard of men with clubs file in from the opposite end of the cliff. They're growling, snarling underneath their hoods as they jump down, stalking towards the prey that's caught their eye. Blood stains their weapons and clothes—Joshua can't tell if it's fresh through all the smog but he has an idea.

Cid steps out farther from the ridge to get a better view, mumbling a string of curses almost immediately.

❝ That's them. ❞

❝ You're sure ? ❞

The older man confirms with a snap of his fingers, ushering Joshua to do what he's told. They've discussed this several times on the way here, to doubt it now would be an insult to Cid's expertise of planning ( not that it's all that great anyways ) .

Another snap, one not meant for Joshua. Cid sparks a few strikes to halt the men in their march, scorching the ground in front of them. A chorus of complaints roar through the canyon, giving Joshua the perfect opportunity to swoop in behind the crowd and knock them down with his flames.

The two Eikons unite in a flurry of light, the effects of their teamwork glimmering like gold around the waves of arms. It's flawless, fool-proof; this plan was destined to succeed from its conception. Joshua's almost sorry he can't be bothered to appreciate it more, but Cid understands.

Once the cries cease, Joshua stalks through the stirred clouds of dust. Anticipation encourages the beating of his heart, so loud it pounds in his ears and hammers at his throat. He's shaking when the ash yields and reveals a mess of dark hair, clutching a limp, but breathing body.

❝ Clive ? ❞

[leo-sharks-struggles]

Prison! In Space! Chapter 1- Soulmate

Space Soulmates.

That was Peyton’s life now. Space Soulmates in Space Prison. God, Casey’s insanity was rotting Peyton’s brain. Not everything needed ‘Space’ in front of it.

But yeah, Space Soulmates. And apparently she has found hers. In prison, as an inmate, because of the stupid delivery job turned smuggling job gone wrong. She hadn’t even known about the drugs. If she had, she wouldn’t have done it. Not that it helped her any.

“So… Really?” Peyton eyed her cellmate dubiously. He was a tall, black furred, hulking thing that made her think of a cat. He was watching her with the rapt attention of an addict.

“Yes, really!” He stood from his cot, head nearly touching the ceiling. Hell, he was tall. His solid blue eyes were filled with a heated fervor. “We are Destined.”

Ell, that’s what he called himself, held his palms up to her in supplication. His long tail, whip thin with a spade tip, lashed behind him. He was clearly irate at not being believed.

Peyton held her own hands up in defeat. “No offense meant. Just not something I was expecting in prison.”

He smiled again, his sharp cat-like teeth gleamed in the dim light. He was still holding his hands out, waiting for something. So Peyton stepped forward to place her palms over his. His long, clawed fingers curled around her hands.

He beamed at her like a big black sun. “It is so good to find you.”

Peyton was blushing. She hadn’t done that in years. What the hell, Space Soulmates indeed. She could get down with it.

“Thanks, hope I don’t disappoint,” Peyton said as he pulled her closer. She didn’t resist when he hugged her. He was warm and soft. Only the chemical smell of the soap used there and his scratchy prisoner uniform ruined it. But only a little.

“I have been blessed with a Soulmate. I couldn’t ever be disappointed with you,” Ell crooned happily. He was practically wiggling in his excitement. It was very cute.

Peyton held back the ‘aaw’ building in her throat. She definitely, absolutely could get behind being his Space Soulmate. They stood there grinning and goofy at each other.

“Shall we get dinner, My Sweet?” Ell didn’t wait for her answer, hustling her from their cell. They joined the crowd heading to the food area.

Peyton looked around for Casey, sure her sister would be hanging around somewhere. She spotted her little sister’s pale brown hair in the middle of a cluster of aliens. She was gesturing about something.

“Ell, that’s my sister,” Peyton said, pointing the girl out. She started heading over, sure he would follow.

Ell grunted, but did follow close behind. “Your kin is here?”

Peyton grimaced. Not for her lack of trying, but Casey refused to leave her behind. Stupid girl.

“Just my little sister.” Peyton approached Casey’s group, catching a snippet of what she was saying. Oh God, she was talking about Peyton. “Casey!”

Casey twisted around with a hop. She was grinning like a loon. “Peyton! I was just talking about you!”

“I heard, you shit,” Peyton said as she hugged her sister in relief. Privately, Peyton was glad she wasn’t alone. Kind of alone? She had Ell now, too.

“Who’s your friend, Pappy?” Nevermind. Peyton hated her sister and never wanted to see her again.

“Pappy,” Ell said as Peyton made a noise of outrage. Casey’s buddies were already laughing. Casey was grinning mischievously.

“No.” Peyton was not letting Ell call her that, too. She would shrivel up and die. She would die of cuteness, that is, when Ell started giggling. Almost seven foot tall alien Space Soulmates should not be so cute. “Casey, this is Ell. My cellmate.”

Ell waved at Casey, ducking his head when she waved back. “We are Destined.”

Casey’s grin was way too delighted. Peyton would never live it down.

“Destined?”

“Yes, your sister is my Soulmate,” Ell explained where everyone could hear him. This was Peyton’s curse, she decided, watching Ell just about burst with excitement.

Social embarrassment. Now she had two people to ruin her reputation.

“Pappy! Space Soulmates!” Casey was laughing loudly, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. It turned even more heads or otherwise their way.

“Oh my fucking God,” Peyton said under her breath. She folded her arms over her chest. She was going to die.

“Way to go, Ell.” One of the aliens Casey had been chatting up had piped up. They were reed thin with metallic green skin. They seemed to be made of plants. Maybe?

Ell grinned at them “Thank you, Xaxic.”

“So does this place have Space marriage?”

Peyton’s sure of it. She’s going to die there.

**

First Chapter. Still needs work but tell me what yinz think! Thank you for reading!

[unusualindigo]

Carissime - Disc V - Preview

Camden cries out into the swirling darkness as he tumbles through the void, feeling something amiss with his blood, his very being. The golden hew, ever-present in the corner of his eyes… is gone.

Has he lost the blessing of grace? Is he doomed to die but one more death? What does it mean? Has his decision to search for and rescue Lord Miquella proven a fatal error?

All these despairing thoughts and the intoxicating mix of fear and despair welling in his heart give way to agonizing fire as Camden tumbles out into a watery alcove of stone, his forehead blazing as the cursed blood in his body boils, as if awakening anew.

Camden lets out a scream as his head aches with acute sharpness, blood dripping down into his eyes as something pushes through the flesh, his very skull feeling suddenly all too contained within the skin of his scalp.

Bringing his hands to his head to grip and apply pressure to the temples, hoping to numb some of the pain, he feels some hard protrusions greet his grasping fingers, lined with ridges, curling slightly… Oh Gods…

Camden’s glowing red eyes widen in horror and dread as he feels the teeth in his mouth begin to elongate as well, his canines sharpening and pushing just past his upper lip.

The blazing numbness in his wedding finger, the point of corruption, spreads steadily, dissipating as it makes its way up his neck and to all around his form.

The pain recedes, and Camden scrambles to his feet, staring in awed horror at the rippling, yet still reflective waters below.

Fangs, pale, almost translucent skin that make his veins prominent, and the beginnings of curling horns, like those of an Altus ram, protruding from his bloody and torn forehead.

Just what… is this blood going to do to him?

Camden ponders the implications of this new transformation. The Land of Shadows, devoid of grace… is the blessing what prevented the corrupting blood from doing to him that which it had done to the Albinaurics? Will he too become a pseudo-Omen?

His vision sharpens as the pain recedes, and Camden is shocked by the clarity of his vision, clearer than he’d ever seen before. His eyes do not merely glow now, but blaze with bloodflame, as Mohg’s had…

This Land of Shadows… must be linked to that Formless Mother, the very source of the corruption. There can be no other explanation. Why else would the corruption, long held at bay through the blessing of grace it would seem, surge forth like a geyser?

Camden thinks back to Morgott, how much weaker he’d been than his twin… if grace holds off the Omen blood, then what did that mean for the champion of the Golden Order? Had he been knowingly imbibing poison, just to spite his flesh…?

A wave of nausea and pity wells up in Camden’s heart at the thought of it. He doesn’t know which he considers worse; the possibility that Morgott knowingly sickened himself… or that he did so unknowingly.

Shaking his head, Camden makes his way out of the alcove, and stares in terrified wonder at what lies beyond. A land of mass graves, burned ruins… and a great, twisting, dead tree from which drapes a mystical veil…

Camden makes his way uneasily into the landscape, spying miniature copies of deathbirds perching atop archways amongst the graves. He’ll need caution, especially with his body still sore from the sudden burst of transformation.

Camden tries a sip of his flask, only to recoil as the sap burns his throat like dank whiskey, the burn of it altogether unpleasant and sickening. The strength he’d not noticed before drains away, leaving him to stumble to a grave and vomit.

Camden stares at his flask in terror, wondering if he is now without his means of recovery…

So many things are now changing within him, as he can feel his very blood fighting against the sap’s power, draining them both of their strength.

What does this portend for future battles? He surely cannot count on his enemies to give him merciful time to adjust to this sickness in the heat of live combat.

He must practice imbibing the flask with his newfound resistance to it. He no longer has the blessing of grace in this place, so he knows not if he shall revive upon death. There is no choice… but to adapt, and grow.

A sensible man recognizes the necessity of change, as his father used to say. And is Camden not trying to be a sensible man bringing sense back to the maddened lands?

He spies a great golden cross rune in the distance, and, with that heading, makes his way towards the miniature deathbirds, drawing his flail and shield.

It is time to make some adjustments.

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello, I adore your writing! I was wondering if you could do sick or injured TK but he’s hiding bc he just feels like he doesn’t deserve to take time off or look after himself and he maybe collapses and Judd is super big brotherly, protective, sweet and bandages him up or takes him home to look after him? If it doesn’t inspire you it’s absolutely no problem, keep up the amazing work you and writers like you are so appreciated more than you know!

if you're still here, anon, hi! and thank you so much for this prompt! i'm sorry it took me forever to get to :(

in the week running up to christmas, i am going to try to post a prompt fill every day, but i can't promise. maybe i'll only get this one out lmao. we shall see. either way, hope you enjoy!

ao3 | 1.2k

There’s some sort of irony, he thinks, that in the same year he almost freezes to death, he might actually die of heat. Summer in Texas is no joke, but there’s no way TK is going to admit to struggling to anyone, not when he knows all the jokes they’d undoubtedly make. Besides, he’s sick of being, well, sick, and he doesn’t want to see the inside of any kind of medical facility for the rest of the year unless it’s to do with his job. In which case he sees one nearly every day, but details.

And it’s just… After January, TK had to take months off while his body recovered from the accident, while he gained his strength back and learned to live with the side effects he seems to be stuck with now. One of those being migraines, which is why he doesn’t think much of it when his head starts pounding and he can’t really move his head without feeling an overwhelming dizziness and nausea. He’s been told countless times by Tommy to take time off if he needs it and TK knows that’s the sensible option, but he feels like he’s wasted half of this year at home and he hates these new limits that have been forced on him. If he is physically able to get through this, then he will.

Still, as the day goes on, he’s becoming less and less sure that he can. It’s like someone is running a drill right between his eyes without pause, but TK knows from experience that there’s no stopping a migraine once it’s begun. The best thing to do is ride it out, but today’s is worse than any he’s experienced before. The sun is unrelenting in its intensity and neither team has had much time for rest today, which means no time under any sort of shelter or even a minute to take a sip of water.

But he just pulled the rig back into the station, a blessed wave of cool air hitting them as they exit, and TK plans on making the most of the reprieve, however brief. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a towel and running it under the faucet, then takes his water bottle from the fridge and heads up to the bunk room.

Once in bed, he pulls the sheets up so they cover his eyes and lies as still as possible, resolved not to move until another call comes in.

It works for about five minutes until TK is sweating through the covers and he throws them off, panting as a sudden breathlessness overtakes him. There’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knows means nothing good, but he’s afraid to move – things will only go one way from here, but TK would really, really like to believe that for once it won’t.

But, of course, it does.

The churning in his stomach increases with his heart rate, and TK eventually has to throw himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, cursing his bed being furthest away from the hall. He barely makes it in time, the first heave taking over his body no sooner than he drops to his knees by the toilet.

And, because his body hates him, it fights against what it so clearly wants to do. Strings of bile dangle from his mouth as he heaves, his abdomen cramping painfully and his breath coming in short, sporadic gasps.

It takes a long time and several rounds of throwing up in the bowl for the nausea to subside, and with it, it takes all of his remaining energy. The smell coming from the toilet is awful and it threatens to turn his stomach again, but reaching up to flush is too much for him. TK sits in a heap on the bathroom floor, head slumped at an angle that’s sure to hurt if he stays here long enough, but he can’t care. He doesn’t have the energy; his limbs are all so heavy and his eyelids just want to droop closed, but he’s still on shift, he needs to be alert, he needs—

“Strand!”

TK’s head jerks up from where it’s dropped to his shoulder and the pain in his head strikes a new peak. He just wants to curl into a ball and die, but whoever called his attention won’t let him; he’s grabbed by the shoulders and shaken like a ragdoll, as much as he tries to get his body under some sort of control. 

Something is held to his lips and when the water hits his throat, he greedily gulps it down, only to immediately have to force himself above the toilet as it comes straight back up again. When he comes back to himself, he registers a touch on his back, and TK manages to moan and twist in their grip until their face swims into view.

“Judd?” he slurs.

“Yeah.” Judd squints at him, then sighs and shakes his head. “Tommy sent me to check on you before she left; EMS crew got sent on a call ten minutes ago.”

“What?” TK scrambles to push himself to his feet, but his limbs betray him and if not for Judd catching him, he would have collapsed back down.

“Man, you’re a stubborn bastard, Strand,” he huffs, not letting TK go so as to keep him in place. “And you’re a damn fool if you think she didn’t know something wasn’t up. She had her suspicions too, and I think we’ve just confirmed them.”

TK rolls his head in an approximation of a shake. “It’s just a migraine. Get them all the time now. Fucking ice.”

Judd snorts. “That’s one way of putting it. But this ain’t no migraine, it’s just a nasty bit of heat exhaustion. Though, you’re lucky we figured it out because if we’d waited for you to tell us you’d be heading straight to the hospital.”

The word hospital filters through the mush that’s become TK’s brain and his eyes widen, locking with Judd’s. “No,” he says. “No hospital. I don’t… I can’t.”

“Hey, relax.” Judd rubs his arm and then, making sure TK isn’t just going to crumple, lets go and eases himself down to sit next to him. “You’re not going to the hospital, but only if you’ll let Gracie take you back to our house while this thing runs its course.”

“Can’t…”

“Can. Grace is downstairs now and she’s told me that if I don’t bring you out, she’s going to come up herself and make sure she doesn’t leave without you.”

“I’ll throw up if I get into a car.”

Judd shrugs. “I mean, take a sick bag, please, but I got a baby daughter. That car’s seen worse.”

TK sighs and squints up at Judd. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” he asks, though, in truth, he doesn’t really want him to. He can admit it now; he feels like shit, and having someone take care of him is kind of exactly what he wants and needs right now.

“Nope.” Judd grins as he stands to help TK up. “This is how we do.”

TK wouldn’t change it for the world.