#tried to disguise and be subtle

[fiendishartist2]

officially i think i dont like analogue horror anymore. nothing coming out recently is in any way interesting or fun to watch, aside from recap videos to listen to absentmindedly

[byoldervine]

Foreshadowing Ideas

• Character themes/motifs. I’ve heard of one writer who tries to give each character their own theme for similes, metaphors, descriptions, etc so there’s like a theme to the way they’re portrayed. You could use that to foreshadow notable secrets about the character that will later be revealed, or if at any point they’re disguised then you can use that to tip off the reader that they have the same motifs and so might be related/the same person

• Tiny details hidden in lists. Say the MC was trying to work out the identity of a bad guy, who we know was wearing a red shirt on the day of a big bad event. A few chapters later, MC is checking around their best friend’s room to find them, with the place its usual mess with discarded takeaway boxes, the bed unmade, a red shirt left on the floor that could use a good sweep. The red shirt might not click with all the readers, but those who register it upon their first read will eat it up

• Inconsistent behavioural patterns. Once we have a good idea of what a character is like, having them act out of character can set off alarm bells and make us question what’s occurred to make them act this way. Let the other characters register it too, if it’s reasonable that they would, but let them ultimately brush it off quite quickly to keep it subtle. Or just call it right out, whichever you prefer

• Unreliable narrators. Let one character say one thing and a second character say another, even if they both ultimately agree on the same thing but get one or two small details wrong. Ideally do this two or three times in order for the reader to know it’s not just a mistake in the plot but an intentional inconsistency, but even if it’s only done once and it’s taken as a mistake it’ll still slot together like puzzle pieces in the end and they’ll be kicking themself for dismissing it

• In-universe red herrings. If you’re going to add red herrings as foreshadowing, it’s helpful if the red herring aligns with the intentions of someone person aware of the upcoming plot twist who’s trying to control the narrative. Say the plot twist was the reveal of a mysterious character’s identity to be the best friend of the MC, the best friend might have deliberately thrown the MC off their scent by planting suspicions in the MC’s mind that a different character was the mysterious character’s identity all along. This is less about foreshadowing the actual reveal, of course, but rereads will be a punch to the gut when everyone realises that all this misinformation and red herring business came from someone trying to cover their own ass rather than coming from misunderstandings or multiple other random sources

[yourlokalescholar]

Oh my god wait. What if the blessings of the gods manifested physically? Like if a god takes an interest in you, EVERYONE is going to see it, for better or worse. And if you lose their favour? Everyone can see that, too

Jason with a peacock tail and feather-crest, both of which go faded and limp when he turns on Medea, so that they drag on the floor and get in the way

Pollux with eagle wings instead of arms, so Castor acts as his hands and that’s why they’re inseparable. When Castor dies and Pollux splits his immortality with him, they each get one arm and one wing, so one can’t fly without the other

Odysseus with a forked tongue and fangs—a subtle feature that he can hide when he needs to. When Athena feels like being helpful (like when she disguises him as a beggar) she’ll cast an illusion over it, but Penelope immediately recognises him by his lisp

When Athena gives Diomedes the blessing of seeing through the gods’ disguises, he also gets owl eyes and the ability to turn his head 180 degrees. This helps when Odysseus tries to stab him in the back on the Palladium heist

HERACLES WITH BULL HORNS. I have nothing to add I just think that sounds sick as hell

Helen grows beautiful golden feathers instead of hair. Nothing useful, just an obvious sign of her heritage that adds to her appeal to the suitors: whoever wins her hand gets to walk around with a physical symbol of Zeus’s favour

Atalanta with antlers that snap when she gets married, leaving jagged shards behind that won’t go blunt and can’t be sharpened down. She can have her husband, but he can’t touch her head without risking badly cutting himself. This can either be one final blessing or a curse depending on how consensual you interpret the marriage

Hector has pristine white raven wings, making him even more terrifying to the Achaeans, flying into battle like divine intervention, and a symbol of hope for the Trojans. Achilles plucks the feathers off his corpse, but they won’t stop growing back. Still, Achilles has a cloak made from them and wears it into battle, turning Troy’s symbol against them

Paris gets dove wings, but he tells everyone they’re too small to fly with because he’s a coward and doesn’t want to have the same responsibilities as Hector. Then he flies away from the duel with Menelaus in front of the entire army, and that’s when Troy finally loses what’s left of their respect for him

[anaargent]

Touch games

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Five Hargreeves slowly turning from a grumpy, grumpy old man into a touch-starved mass. . .

It started with gentle hand touches, initially Five looked confused and ripped his hands from yours as he asked, “What the hell is this?” with a stunned and disgusted expression. “A handshake?” you answer simplistically, removing the hands he had methodically tucked into his coat and grabbing them again. “To maintain your disguise you need to walk closer and less robotic, grandpa, don’t act like you’ve never held a hand in your life.” After a few tries Five got used to walking closer, his hands gently reaching for yours unconsciously, holding them absently as they walked, ensuring you were on the safer side of the street, still with a scowl on his face.

.

After your initial aversion, the quick touches to your hair began - it's messy - you say absently, brushing away some strands that fell on Five's forehead, who had remained silent, eyes wide as he watched you smile when your bangs were finally in place, clearing your throat and letting out a half-strangled "hm, thank you". After that, your fingers automatically fixed Five's hairstyle, smiling proudly at him and leaving after a simple - now you're presentable - never seeing the young man's slight blush on his cheeks and the breath he had held being released in a stunned huff.

.

Five was confused, he considered himself a controlled person, always having total control of his reactions and actions, he wondered why he couldn't prepare himself for every time you came towards him and entered his personal space, what had once been irritation was slowly becoming anticipation. His eyes darted to follow you when you entered the same room, silently hoping that you would come to him to complain about something stupid that your brothers did that irritated you. He found himself listening carefully to every word, noticing the little tics as you released all the frustration of the day and in the end you seemed at peace again.

- Maybe it was the coexistence - Five said to himself, trying to deal with emotions that were certainly not in his life curriculum - I see her every day, I must have gotten used to her nonsense, just like Klaus - he continues to grumble as he searches for his favorite chocolate at the convenience store he had stopped at on the way home - with that loud and annoying voice... that beautiful idiotic smile - he stopped himself, shaking his head in contradiction - no, no, just a stupid smile, nothing pretty!

He hurriedly left the market, with a bag of chocolates in his hand.

.

Five slowly found himself tangled in a spider's web, what was once a cold and centered posture turning into a needy and insatiable teenager. He tried to control himself, tried not to reach for your hand when you were walking close to each other, or not to smile like an idiot when you patted his hair after he was kind to your brothers - finally a good guy - you smiled as you stroked Five's head, so oblivious to the effects you caused, the gears in the boy's mind stopping to turn as I felt a cozy warmth envelop him.

Or so he thought.

You were aware of the reactions and the subtle change in Five, from the nervous smiles, the hands pretending to brush against yours as you walked, his green eyes always chasing yours, the slight tilt every time he was sarcastic and expected a witty response from you, receiving it with a proud smile. You were aware of all of this, and you wanted to see how far you could take that tempting joke, how the touches seemed to feed something dormant in Five and in his always so rigid posture, an overwhelming curiosity to see what could be awakened in him. You didn't expect him to explode so quickly.

At little Grace's party there was a big reunion, the whole family together again. You and Five came together, your hands firmly clasped in Five's, it was almost natural, if it weren't for the small hesitation before the act

- I hope she likes our gift - you sigh nervously, looking at the package that Five carried in his other arm - you picked up the biggest and brightest unicorn in the store, she'll love it - Five offers you a loving smile and a light squeeze of your hand, seeing your relieved expression - do you swear? - I'm sure of it - Five assures as he opens the door for you to enter the party - a gentleman - you smile playfully - only with you - Five answers sarcastically, hiding the butterflies shaking his stomach with a fake cough, taking off his coats and pulling you to where everyone was gathered.

In the middle of the party you ended up moving away from Five and the others, lost in the middle of so many people and children everywhere. The party was almost over, there were balloons on the floor, the balls of lights spinning

- yeah, it's you and me, Bobby - you grumble, sitting at a table away from the center of the party, toasting with the huge blue bear from the decoration that kept you company during the night - maybe I'll give you my cute number your naughty little thing.

- y/n! - Five suddenly appears, with his tie badly tied, his hair a mess - Five? What happened? Is everyone okay? - you get up and go to the man who was on your mind all night, placing your hands on his shoulders. Five relaxed with the touch, feeling the withdrawal that was growing in him ease a little - where were you? - you are shocked when you come across the needy tone in his voice.

Five Hargreeves, the same Five who told you that after so many years in the apocalypse he didn't feel like having any company. He was in front of you with a helpless appearance, his eyes tearing up a little as he sniffed softly - I looked for you all night, Klaus... Klaus said that maybe you were with someone more interesting.

You laugh, what else could you do in those circumstances? After all the games of accidental touches, of approaching as cautiously as possible so that Five wouldn't think you were a threat and accidentally stab you during the night. Was he worried that you had someone else in your life? - Seriously Five? - You smile at him - Who would be as interesting as an old man in the body of an adult who has lived through countless apocalypses?

-I...i- Five tries to think, his mind clouded between insecurities and silly fears, he didn't find himself attractive enough for you to really consider him as an option. The guy had more trust issues than a war veteran - I'm paranoid - he tells him that you're done with it - And? - You ask, waiting for more. - Me - He hesitates a little - I'm controlling, grumpy most of the time, I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, I have a gun under my pillow because I can't sleep without thinking that we might be attacked during the night. And there would probably be a bomb bunker in the garden.

- It sounds tempting to me - you smile, wrapping your arms around Five's neck - I can deal with underground bunkers and some anti-theft traps in the house - you say, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. Five freezes, his heart beating like crazy, he was in front of the person he wanted to have the most, and who deserved the least. He was a mess, yet, with everything you saw, you were still in front of him, with a perfectly placed smile on your beautiful face, waiting for something. Waiting for him.

Five then throws the blocks to the wind, maybe he would regret it, maybe he would wake up tomorrow knowing that he pulled you straight into trouble, but you would be there with him. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. - We-we can have a dog - he says with the shadow of a small smile wanting to leave his lips. - Or two - you say finally pulling him for a kiss.

It was soft, insecure, perhaps a little cautious in the new field you were entering, your lips were warm and soft, and they moved slowly, your hands snaking through Five's hair, while he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer. Becoming bolder, you deepen the kiss, your tongue invading Five's mouth, the taste of liquor filling your mind, while everything seemed more intense and intense. When you finally pull away to take a deep breath, Five's eyes are already searching yours, his angelic eyes had a mischievous glint, something hungry lurking in the innocent features on his face. His hands are still wrapped around your waist, not letting you go that far

- can we go home? - he asks in a husky, thick voice. The sound causes a tremor in your body, the anticipation of the indirect suggestion filling your chest - I thought you would never invite me - you respond by pulling him into another passionate kiss while letting out a mischievous chuckle

[pepsichrry]

Ride || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: An arranged marriage between two Pureblood families is almost common, but what happens when a sudden infatuation is brought into the mix.

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, smut, Mentions of violence, angst, unhealthy relationship, Theo is obsessed with his wife

—————————————————————————

Theo felt himself slipping away. Not quite how he did when he’d received the Dark Mark, and not quite how he did when he watched the life vanish from his mother’s eyes. This time, it felt different.

He watched you through foggy window panes in the dewy spring mornings and from across the dining table as you ate breakfast. He couldn’t stop watching you, and it drove him insane. His wife drove him insane. Of course he’d heard such sentences from his father’s colleagues and other men who complained, but those feelings were nothing alike Theo’s. Not like the pang in his heart when he watched you in the grassy fields of the estate or the fondness disguised by hard eyes as you exchanged pleasantries like strangers. After all, you really were strangers.

But Theo had come to know you like you didn’t even know yourself. To him, you were anything but a stranger.

He couldn’t even count the amount of times that he had dreamt of you sleeping beside him, feeling your warmth, imagining what it would be like to kiss you and please you like any husband would wish to, Merlin, like any man who lay eyes upon you would. If it weren’t for your complete lack of interest in him, he would have asked you to have your way with him already, but ever since the wedding, you hadn’t been interested in going near him at all. He couldn’t blame you, at first he had been opposed to marrying so young, claiming that his father was taking away his freedom, stripping him of his youth and leaving him to be stuck with a stranger in his house. But, oh, how wrong he was.

You were a delight, a pure and innocent light in the darkness of the family estate. You brought with you little possessions, maybe only a few dresses and boxes of trinkets, but you gave life to the creaking floorboards and dusty walls. In a matter of months, you’d planted flowers and fruit trees, stripped the dark rooms of misery and replaced it with sunlight and brighter decor. All of a sudden, the fires were lit and the house no longer sent a chill down your spine. That, at least, Theo could be grateful for.

Taking note of the subtle changes made, he always made sure to thank you with something or another, whether it be silky gowns, sparkling jewellery, shoes or perfume. But none of it seemed to impress you.

As time went on, Theo became aware of your distaste towards his expensive gifts and tried everything he could to satisfy you from an arms length, but it was difficult. When he’d been in school, a pretty bracelet would have been enough to get a girl to want him, but it seemed that there was nothing that he could give that made you want him. So he decided on giving you the only thing he could think that you’d want from him; space.

In leaving you alone, he began to observe you whenever he could, and in doing so, he started to understand that you didn’t desire dresses or sparkles to admire yourself in, though he did see you trying his previous gifts on in front of the mirror with a grin, and instead he realised that you enjoyed sitting in the library with a book or lounging in the garden eating fruits.

He admired you every day when you wore your lacy white dresses in the spring sunshine, hair falling over your sun-kissed shoulders. He admired you as you sipped at the fresh lemonade the house elves had prepared and watched as your soft lips enveloped the glass. He admired you as you lounged in the living room with bare feet on the oak floor. He even admired you in your bedroom from time to time as you slept, praying to Merlin that you wouldn’t wake up as he smoothed gentle fingers over your temple.

Sometimes, though, he wished that you would wake up, catch him in the act. He wondered what you’d say, how your face would contort into confusion or shock, he wondered if you’d let him stay. So, as time went on, he visited you every night whilst you slept, enjoying the close calls and nervousness that ran through him at the thought of you waking up. He took pleasure in the thumping of his heart and how you stirred in your sleep from time to time as the mattress dipped beside you. Every night, he wanted to kiss your plump lips as you slept, wondering if the action would wake you or if you’d be angry if he did. He knew it’d be wrong, but he couldn’t help how much he wanted to kiss your beautiful lips and freckled skin.

He imagined how it’d feel to run his lips and tongue over your body, lose himself in the supple curves of your hips and breasts or in the soft feeling of your hair. Sometimes he’d dream it too and wake up sticking to his sheets with a mixture of sweat and precum. It was a guilty pleasure to relieve himself thinking of you and everything he did to you in his imagination.

You were a sinful temptation wrapped in pure white bedsheets and gowns, tormenting him until he had to excuse himself from dinner with a swollen cock and a pink face.

His wife drove him insane. And she was oblivious.

One night, as Theo dodged the creaky floorboards outside of your bedroom, he heard it. The soft sigh falling from your lips, indicating that you weren’t asleep. The warm light emitting from the ajar door drew him in, enticing him into pushing gently against the barrier between him and you. And upon opening the door, he saw you.

You lay spread across the bed, hair framing your head like a shining halo in lamplight as your nightgown was pulled up to your stomach, held in place by one hand whilst the other reached between your open legs, though the sight was obscured by the flesh of your thigh as you lay parallel to the door.

Theo cursed mentally, wishing that you’d lay with your head on your pillow so that he could really see what your hand was toying with. He felt himself grow hot and shifted as his trousers tightened uncomfortably, alerting you of his presence when you heard the creak of a floorboard. Fuck. You looked at him with wide eyes, a deer caught in headlights as you ripped your small hand from between your thighs. Before you could even begin to stutter, Theo chocked out a bashful ‘Sorry’ before turning and slamming the door behind him.

In that moment, he wished that the ground would swallow him up. He had never been so shy around a girl, especially one that was lying, touching herself in his house, not that there had been any before. His head softly thumped against your door as he slumped back. But he didn’t have much time to feel sorry for himself as your door opened suddenly.

He spun to look at you. It had seemed that you’d smoothed down your wild hair before coming to find him as it hung over your shoulders like usual. Your eyes met his in the darkness of the hallway and he nearly collapsed. Between the blood from his head running to his groin and the look in your eyes, he thought that maybe he would collapse, but he cleared his throat and straightened up to his full height to look down at you with his usual stoic expression.

Your eyes trailed down his neck, to his chest and then, they looked straight down to the sizeable bulge in his slacks. He had worn neatly ironed trousers and a button down shirt to visit his father that day, and secretly wished that he had changed his clothes before coming to see you that night. It would have been more comfortable for his raging hard-on.

“Would you like to come in?”

Theo’s prayers must have been answered, because your soft voice lead him through your doorframe. He barely even registered what was going on until he was sat on your mattress like many nights before, but this time, you were awake, looking at him with lustrous eyes and flushed skin on your cheeks, neck and…

You leaned into him once he was settled on your bed and brushed your damp lips onto his own. His jaw hung open and his eyes were wide as they looked at you. This must have been a dream.

Surely he was awake judging by the feeling of your lips on his own and the hammering of his heart and the throbbing between his legs. You kissed him with fervour, running your hands over his shoulders tenderly and Theo sighed at the feeling of your touch, it was something he hadn’t felt before. You hadn’t even touched him during the wedding, not even for a dance, let alone at night. You had never consummated your marriage and he had never been so aware of the fact. He leant into your hands, chest rising and falling heavily as his head spun and his body overheated.

You hushed him quietly, running your hand through his brown curls and straddling his lap quickly, sighing as you felt the bulge in his lap against your bare core beneath your night dress. It had been drilled into your head that as a Pureblood woman, you must remain as pure as possible until you were inevitably married off, meaning you’d never been in any position similar to this. You didn’t even know what to do with the boy who began to run his rough hands over your back as he hungrily kissed you. But something about the situation made you giddy, here he was, you could finally have him all to yourself. The gorgeous, brown-haired beauty you’d snagged up.

You ground down into his lap on instinct, something sparking deep inside of you at the sound of his throat emitting a deep noise. Your mouth hung agape, breathing hot air onto the column of his neck once you’d tugged his hair back to reveal the expanse of his skin.

Theo felt like prey under your scorching touch. He wanted nothing more than to feel what you had been touching so dearly before he’d interrupted you. He wondered what it looked like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like. Merlin, how he wanted to taste it. To have what he’d imagined so vividly above him, restricted by nothing but a layer of clothing drove him to insanity. He couldn’t help but rut into you from where he sat below you.

He felt the pressure of your palm on his chest, encouraging him to lay his back against the silk sheets. Theo was down, obeying your every wish as you kissed fiercely, hands claiming every inch of his burning body, fiery like a sinner in church, your fingertips the devil, searing the flesh from his bones and torturing him in ways incapable of any human being responsible of.

His body throbbed, lungs heaving and struggling and his heart hammering against his ribcage. His legs and hands shook like they never had before and Theo did wonder why his body reacted the way it was.

Your lips let a soft sound pass through them again as his hips jolted, the bulge in his trousers pressed at the perfect angle, his cold belt buckle rubbing against your slick clit with a pleasurable shock. The boy was almost thrashing beneath you as he was oh, so eager to hear the noise again. His large hands encouraged you to press down against his need, spurring a deep sigh from him. You didn’t know why you hadn’t done this before.

“Is this what you imagine when you watch me?” You asked, and his body stilled minus the shivering of his hands and legs.

A frown dragged at his brow as you pulled your warm face away from his. “I-What?”

You grinned devilishly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you sneak in here each night? Now answer me, is this what you imagine?”

The air was knocked out of him when your body ground down onto his again, forcing the answer out of him. He wheezed, “Yes!” His head falling back harshly onto the pillow as his eyes scrunched closed as if it hurt to watch you work atop of him. Your hand threaded through his curls, scraping gently at his scalp and tipping his head aside, revealing the moles scattered up his throat. You hungrily attack the expanse of his neck, leaving him purple and pink.

His body fell slack, allowing you to take him in any way that you pleased. With your mouth against his neck and your pussy against his groin, he felt himself grow closer and closer to succumbing to his own pleasure. The white hot light in his eyes grew closer and his mouth tasted the familiar sweetness of lust, all he needed was for you to keep going, then he was sure to release all tension. He needed it more than he’d needed anything before.

Theo tried to call out, but his breath was gone and his head span in circles, so all that could be said was nothing but the most pathetic noises he’d made. He whined as you scratched circles into his hair and bruised his neck with your sweet mouth. He pawed desperately at your body atop of him, searching for any way to force you harder onto his swollen length.

You felt his body shake and his chest rattle with unsure breaths, so hesitantly, you slowed your hips until you halted, appreciating the groan that slipped past Theo’s lips at the lack of friction.

Hushing him gently with a finger over his lips, you smiled sweetly at him. His eyes were bleary and almost unfocused as he looked up at you. A careful hand reach up to smooth over your face in attempts to bring you back down to his lips, but it was to no avail. He breathed out a tiny noise of complaint.

You brushed over his face gently. “I just need you to be quiet, Love, can you do that?”

It felt nearly as if he was in pain without the feeling of your hips rocking onto him, but he obeyed, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good.” You whispered, lifting yourself from him. Theo nearly complained until he realised where you were steadying yourself.

Your knees dug into the mattress on either side of his shoulders, wetness hovering over his shirt and he nearly thought he was about to pass out.

“Allow me?” You ask him. You knew the answer, but you waited quietly for his response.

“Fuck! Yes.” He twitched beneath your legs.

Slowly, almost teasingly, you found the end of your nightgown with your fingers. You toyed with the hem, brushing the soft lace against his clean-shaven chin as his jaw slackened. His mouth was open, heaving in breaths as his eyes watched intently as you lifted the gown up to your belly. Theo was downright salivating at the sight of your pretty little pussy right in front of him. He slid a hand from your backside, all the way up the front of your stomach, taking the nightgown from your hand and pulling it over your head. He hungrily stared over your body, drinking in your beautiful skin and rivets and dips.

His large hands dragged over your sides until they parted, one trailing down to your hip and the other to your full chest. His mouth was ready to feel you, to map out the entirety of your core, ready in his mind to remember when he sinfully touched himself.

Your hands reached to the headboard, pulling yourself up the the pillows, where his head lay, and you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth.

Instantly, his lips engulfed your clit, suckling at it as his hands held your hips firmly over him. As soon as he touched you, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. His tongue lapped at you with boiling hot accuracy and you fell victim to the wet sounds of your bodies connecting.

Your head lulled to the side, body weakened at the pleasure he was giving to you. His tongue ran in vigorous circles and you ground against his face in an attempt to make him lick harder.

Your forehead rested on the headboard, knuckles whitening as the sounds were becoming more and more obscene. Theo pressed you down harder onto him and between licking at your sensitive pussy, he sucked harsher and harsher. Your pearly juices were helping you slide over his mouth but he didn’t care that it was coating him more and more as he encouraged you to press onto him. The taste of you was sure to linger on his tongue, and he welcomed the thought eagerly.

His teeth grazed against your skin and you whined, reaching a hand down to his locks, hoping that just your hand would comfort him slightly despite the rough grinding of your pussy on his face. But by the desperate sounds he was making, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

The mixture of your juices and his saliva dripped down his neck and onto the pillow. His chest heaved up and down relentlessly as he awaited your climax. He wanted nothing more than to make you come.

He moaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a shiver through you. Your entrance was beating and you could your thighs feeling light at his continuous movements. You were close.

Once you felt the familiar sensation run through you, your other hand came down to grip at his hair as you jerked over his jaw, thighs clenching around his head. Theo felt you squeeze his head, causing an odd lightheadedness to come over him, but not just in his head.

His legs went numb and his vision blurred as his cock leaked spurts of hot cum into his underwear. You still hadn’t stopped grinding on his face, feeling the last of your orgasm as he rode his out all the same. He shook gently, sucking harshly on your clit as you squealed at the sensitivity.

You soon came back down, legs shaking, still squeezing your husband’s head. You quickly realised how red his face was becoming and you were sure that you were killing him. Your legs quickly swung back over him and you sat beside him, viewing the result of your orgasm. His face was pink and his mouth hung open, taking in as much air as possible. His face was covered from his neck to his cheeks with slick and his eyes were closed shut. That was when you noticed the dark stain on his slacks.

You hoped to see him in your bed again.

pt.2

[shadowdaddies]

I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual. 

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you. 

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue. 

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?” 

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek. 

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed. 

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core. 

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another. 

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body. 

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’ 

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see. 

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed  between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area. 

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

[kairawrites]

enemy lines.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: lewis hamilton x wife!reader

summary: lovers at night, enemies in the midday sun.

words: 2570

Creeping through the house, you moved with calculated precision, the thrill of the game pulsing through your veins. You’d been outside in the backyard moments ago, the warm sun on your back as you crouched behind a bush, planning your next move. Slowly, you slipped through the sliding back door into the kitchen, carefully ensuring the coast was clear. Your heart raced with excitement—two of your enemies had already been taken out: your own six year old daughter, Ariel, and your brother-in-law, Nicholas, both now lying in the backyard, victims of your careful strategy.

The game was Capture the Flag, a family-wide war waged in every corner of the vacation home. The entire Hamilton family and guests had split evenly into two teams, each determined to outwit the other. The flags were cleverly disguised as two of Ariel’s stuffed animals, making the game even more whimsical. Your team had hidden the fluffy lion in the upstairs master bathroom, a perfect fortress for your team to defend.

As you stealthily entered the living room, your mind was singularly focused on finding the octopus plushie, the flag that the opposing team was fiercely protecting. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, as you scanned the room for any sign of movement. Your senses were sharp, but your thoughts were preoccupied with finding the plushie, and that distraction was your downfall.

In your focused state, you didn’t notice the subtle sounds of soft footsteps approaching. As you entered the next room, your Nerf gun poised for action, you suddenly heard a shuffle. Before you could react, you found yourself face-to-face with Lewis, his Nerf gun raised.

But instead of firing, he hesitated, his gun lowered as he took in your determined expression.

Lewis greeted you with a playful smirk, eyes lingering on the orange bandana tied around your left wrist. “Looks like your team sent in the big guns to take me out.”

He stood there, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the nearby windows, casting a warm glow over him. Dressed in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he looked both relaxed and ready for action. The bandana in his team’s color—bright red—was tied around his forehead. His eyes, sharp and amused, were locked onto yours with a mixture of challenge and affection.

You didn’t lower your Nerf gun, but your mind was already racing. If Lewis was here, then his team’s flag must be close by. You glanced around subtly, trying to discern any clues, but Lewis seemed to realize your thoughts. Yet, he made no moves that might give away the location of the octopus. Instead, his eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you.

“I thought I had you,” you said with a mock pout, still holding your gun up, though it was clear you wouldn’t be shooting him now.

“Almost,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. He stepped closer, his gaze locked on yours. “What’s the matter, baby? Got cold feet?”

You raised an eyebrow in playful challenge, trying not to let his easy confidence shake you. The living room around you was full of potential hiding spots—the bookshelf, the couch cushions, even the potted plant in the corner. As you quickly racked through the possibilities, you tried to gauge where his team might have hidden the flag. Lewis, however, gave nothing away, standing there with that maddeningly calm expression.

“Hardly,” you shot back with a grin. “I’m just giving you a moment to form an escape plan because you’re rusty.”

Lewis scoffed at the accusation, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Me? Rusty?”

“Oh, don’t sound so offended,” you teased, finger still resting on the trigger. “Don’t act like the great Lewis—”

“Sir Lewis,” he corrected with a teasing grin, the title making his smirk even more irresistible.

You couldn’t resist. Before he could react, you fired your Nerf gun, the foam dart bouncing harmlessly off his chest. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he burst into laughter, the deep, rich sound filling the room.

“You deserved that,” you grinned, lowering your weapon.

“That didn’t count,” Lewis protested, still laughing, his eyes twinkling with playful disbelief.

"What happened? I thought you had superhuman reflexes?"

"I was trying to go easy on you," Lewis chuckled at the sight of your rolling eyes. "But that still didn't count. I didn't even have a fair draw."

“Oh, really?” you teased, smirking as you tilted your head. “And what are you going to do to convince me to give you an extra life?”

A mischievous grin spread across your husband's face as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “I can think of something,” he murmured, his voice low and enticing. Before you could respond, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you behind the safety of a nearby wall.

The quick action pulled a gasp from you. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing lightly against your ear as he whispered, “Shh,” the sound almost a caress. His breath tickled your skin, making your heart race, and suddenly, the game felt far less important than the magnetic pull between you two.

The past day had been a blur of travel, with the kids bubbling with excitement to finally meet up with Lewis in Morocco. Your arrival had been a whirlwind—greetings filled with laughter and joy, as Mason and Ariel clung to Lewis as if they never wanted to let go. They hung on his every word, fought to sit next to him at dinner, and later curled up against him during the Super Mario movie they insisted on watching together, their little bodies nestled comfortably against his.

By the time he managed to get them to bed, you had already succumbed to exhaustion, barely stirring as you fell asleep. The day’s events had worn you out, leaving you completely drained.

This morning, you woke to find his side of the bed cold. Lewis had taken on the responsibility of keeping Mason and Ariel on their schedule, letting you sleep in while he cooked breakfast and handled the morning chaos. The smell of coffee and the sound of their giggles had drifted upstairs, but you remained blissfully unaware, catching a few more precious minutes of sleep.

When you finally stumbled downstairs, groggy and in desperate need of caffeine, you were immediately met with a Nerf gun pointed in your direction.

“Just in time, Momma’s on my team!” Mason, your eight year old, had announced gleefully, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Huh?” you had mumbled, still half-asleep and disoriented, not quite processing what was happening.

Lewis had instantly reached for you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you to his side. "Nah, she's mine."

“That’s not fair!” Mason had exclaimed, pouting in protest. “I called her first--"

"Fine." Lewis had grinned, always a sucker for your son's wide brown eyes, sparing you a quick kiss on the cheek before surrendering you to Mason. His touch had been brief, but it lingered, a warm reminder of how much you both needed a moment alone.

The warmth of his arm around your waist, the scent of him—a mix of cologne and the fresh air from outside—was comforting. Now, as you stood close to Lewis, you realized you hadn't spent a single moment alone with your husband.

It seemed like Lewis had the same thought because he shifted your Nerf gun aside, his expression softening as he looked at you. It suddenly dawning on him the two of you were tucked away in a quiet corner, standing against the cool wall of the living room, out of sight from the rest of the house.

His hands cupped your face, the warmth of his palms seeping into your skin as his thumbs brushed tenderly along your cheeks. His eyes roamed your face, tracing the familiar lines, lingering on your lips as your weight instinctively shifted to your toes. There was a softness in his gaze, one that made your heart flutter as he leaned in slowly, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

All that existed in that moment was the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his touch sent a comforting heat through your body. You relaxed into him, your hands instinctively finding their place on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips.

When he finally pulled back, your eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t resist a teasing grin. “How do I know this isn’t just a trick to distract me from finding your flag?”

His response was a grin of his own, one that made your heart skip a beat. Without a word, he leaned in again, his hands pressing firmly against the wall behind you boxing you in. He didn't need to initiate it, your lips instantly finding his.

Lewis didn’t hesitate to press his hips against yours as your arms secured around his neck. This kiss was different—deeper, hungrier. His mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity that took your breath away, as if he was trying to convey just how much he’d missed you in your days apart.

His fingers slid further under your shirt, the warmth of his hands searing against your skin as he tugged you closer, eliminating any remaining distance between your bodies. His lips grew more demanding, his tongue parting lips as he deepened the connection, teasing and exploring in a way that made your knees go weak.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you melted into him, lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours. The world around you ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was the feel of him—his touch, his taste, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he whispered, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too...maybe we should get back to the game,” you murmured, the warmth of his hand on your spine letting you there was only a few seconds before he abandoned the game entirely.

Lewis chuckled softly, your words doing little to deter his train of thought. The warmth of his mouth moved to your neck.

“That was the only freebie you get," you giggled at the sensation. "But if I shoot you again, you're dead."

Lewis pulled back for a moment, eyes sparkling with the same mischief you had fallen in love with. “I thought you loved me."

You smirked, shaking your head. “Not when you’re the enemy,” you shot back, your competitive spirit flaring up again. “I’m trying to win that ice cream that’s on the line.”

Ducking under his arm, you peeked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear before stepping back into the fray. But before you could move too far, Lewis tugged you back, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you close for one last, deep kiss.

“You know,” you began, a new idea forming, “you could always reveal where you hid the flag. Might make it worth your while.”

Lewis smirked against your lips, his voice low as he mumbled, “I might just tell you if you kiss me like that again.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing whisper of a kiss, the promise in his voice making your heart race. “If that means we can finish this upstairs.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound filled with warmth as you leaned in to kiss him again, deciding that maybe—just maybe—ending the game quicker wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

"Then tell me where your flag is," you encourage, the warmth of your hands against his stomach. You could feel the skip of his heart as your palms dragged along his chest, a soft moan leaving his lips as your touch retraced their steps nails dragging along his skin. "And I'll show you how much I missed you."

His fingers pressed into your hips as your touch ghosted over the front of his sweatpants, his hips pressing forward for more.

The breathless "shit," against your ear brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s behind the plant," he mumbled, all logic leaving his mind as you complied with his silent plea. The feeling of your hand against him promising what could come the moment the game was over. "By the far right window."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Lewis’s lips captured yours in a searing kiss. His hands drifting to your ass, kneading the skin. His tongue swept over yours, a slow, deliberate tease that left you craving more.

“Mom!”

You both broke apart with a start, your heart racing as you instinctively pushed Lewis back, trying to compose yourself like a couple of teenagers caught in the act. Mason stood at the end of the hallway, his eyes wide with curiosity and suspicion. You instinctively reached down, grabbing your Nerf gun, as your eyes took in the orange bandana tied around his curls. You point it at a grinning Lewis. The game suddenly at the forefront of your mind.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone laced with a blend of innocence and accusation.

“Nothing,” you both blurted out in unison, your voices a little too high-pitched, a little too fast.

Mason’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed an accusing finger directly at you. “You’re with the enemy!”

Lewis clutched his chest in mock offense, his expression one of exaggerated shock. “Enemy? Me? I'm your dad-”

But Mason wasn’t buying it. His gaze remained fixed, his little brow furrowing as he repeated, “Not during capture the flag! And Mom was helping you!”

Lewis’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced your way. “She nearly surrendered. She was about to give me the location of your flag.”

“I did not!” you protested, your fist playfully ramming into Lewis’s left shoulder, the playful jab making him wince in mock pain. “I’d never surrender, Mase.”

Mason’s gaze flickered back to you, his grin widening. “Did Dad get hit?”

“Actually,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You were a woman of your word, suddenly realizing the benefit of granting Lewis a new life. “not yet.”

Suddenly, Lewis’s eyes widened with realization. “Wait a minute…”

Before he could react, Mason quickly aimed his Nerf gun and fired. The foam dart hit Lewis squarely in the chest, and he theatrically collapsed to the floor with exaggerated groans, his limbs splayed out dramatically.

In a split second, you turned and darted toward the hiding spot, but Lewis was faster than you anticipated. With a swift move, he sprang up and grabbed you from behind. The unexpected embrace caused you to drop your Nerf gun, your laughter bursting out uncontrollably. Pulling your body back, he opted for your waist as you turned to push him off. But he was faster, his strong arms encircled your waist lifting you off the ground.

“Cheater!” you screamed; your voice laced with playful accusation as you tried to wriggle free. Lewis stumbled forward, readjusting his grip as you twisted in his arms. "It's behind the planter, Mason."

Mason scrambled off to grab the hidden flag, his laughter trailing behind him, signaling your husband's defeat.

Lewis’s laughter mixed with yours as he effortlessly shifted your weight to his right arm before he pulled you down onto the sofa with him. Your body landed against his in a heap of giggles. “I thought I knew you,” he chuckled, his voice low and amused, "turning my own son against me to win? Never thought I'd see the day.”

[thehmn]

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this but everything about Perrito from Puss in Boots 2 implies that he comes from either a puppy mill or some very unethical backyard breeders.

He tells us that him and his “litter mates” lived with a “family” that would first throw him in a dumpster and when that didn’t work they tried to drown him in a river.

First, “litter mates”? Why not siblings? That suggests that inbreeding was probably a thing and they called each other “mates” to disguise that. (Edit: I’ve been informed that in English “litter mates” is used to distinguish a litter from the “siblings” a dog or cat will have later when they’re sold off which add a whole other level of sad because it means he was taught from the start to not get attached to his parents or siblings if he use that word despite never being sold off)

Second, he was the runt of the litter so the “family” just threw him away, most likely because they wouldn’t be able to sell him for a lot of cash and didn’t want to waste money on feeding him.

Third, he’s a merle chihuahua.

The merle gene in chihuahuas comes with so many health issues that most kennel clubs won’t allow you to register them no matter how purebred they are, and the few who does will only allow it under very specific conditions. The coat is considered so unethical that a lot of chihuahua fan forums won’t even allow you to join. If you breed two merle chihuahuas the puppies are fucked. And chihuahuas can carry the gene even if they don’t have the merle coat meaning even ethical breeders risk breeding two merle chihuahuas without meaning to. And Perrito clearly has a lot of birth defects like lopsided ears, underbite, wobbly run, and some kind of internal issues that required an operation at some point if the scar on his stomach is any indication.

A lot of Puss in Boots 2 fans are so dedicated to hating chihuahuas that, because they like Perrito, they refuse to acknowledge that he’s a chihuahua and instead prefer to think he’s a mutt or even an Australian sheepdog puppy (nevermind that Kitty asks if he’s part of a chihuahua gang or that Perrito says he USED to be a puppy) not understanding that him being a merle chihuahua is another subtle hint to his horrible past.

[violetduchess]

Hashira w/ oblivious s/o

Summary: You're pretty dumb but they love you

CW: None

Note: by demand

Giyu Tomioka (Water Hashira):

Giyu, being reserved and not adept at expressing his emotions, finds it challenging to directly confront his feelings for you.

He becomes more protective of you, keeping a watchful eye from afar and ensuring your safety during missions. He prioritizes your well-being without drawing attention to his actions.

Giyu's stoic demeanor falters in your presence, his normally calm and composed façade occasionally showing hints of nervousness or vulnerability.

He might drop subtle hints, such as offering you his coat when you're cold or taking on extra tasks to help ease your workload, hoping you'll notice and realize his affection.

Shinobu Kocho (Insect Hashira):

Shinobu, with her cheerful and playful nature, masks her true feelings behind her bubbly personality. She rarely reveals her vulnerable side.

She resorts to teasing and playful banter as a way to hide her affections, often leaving you guessing about her true intentions and making it difficult to discern her genuine feelings.

Shinobu tries to find more opportunities to spend time with you, whether it's suggesting additional training sessions or volunteering for joint missions.

She leaves small gifts or notes for you to discover, accompanied by playful hints or inside jokes, hoping that these gestures will eventually make you realize her true emotions.

Kyojuro Rengoku (Flame Hashira):

Kyojuro's naturally boisterous and enthusiastic personality becomes even more amplified in your presence as he tries to catch your attention and make you laugh.

He becomes your biggest supporter, offering words of encouragement and admiration during missions, always being there to cheer you on and celebrate your achievements.

Kyojuro may subtly drop hints during conversations, casually mentioning qualities or traits he admires, often sharing anecdotes of individuals who share similarities with you.

He tries to create more opportunities for one-on-one interactions, whether it's inviting you to join him for training or suggesting grabbing a meal together to get to know each other better.

Tengen Uzui (Sound Hashira):

Uzui's naturally flirtatious and charming nature goes into overdrive as he tries to grab your attention and make you feel special.

He showers you with compliments and playful banter, constantly finding ways to make you smile and feel appreciated.

Uzui involves himself in your life, going out of his way to join missions or events you're a part of, using those opportunities to spend more time together and demonstrate his interest.

He drops hints and makes veiled comments about his feelings during conversations, skillfully disguising his affection as casual remarks, hoping that you'll pick up on his intentions and respond in kind.

Gyomei Himejima (Stone Hashira):

Gyomei, known for his strong and stoic demeanor, finds it difficult to express his feelings directly. His actions speak louder than words.

He becomes incredibly protective of you, ensuring your safety at all costs and standing as a formidable shield against any threat.

Gyomei goes out of his way to assist you with tasks or offer support, silently shouldering burdens to ease your worries.

He often shows acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, such as offering you his hand when you stumble or lending a listening ear when you need someone to talk to.

Mitsuri Kanroji (Love Hashira):

Mitsuri's affectionate and passionate nature becomes even more apparent when she's around you. Her heart practically glows with adoration.

She finds herself constantly seeking your attention, engaging in conversations that highlight your qualities and making you feel valued.

Mitsuri goes above and beyond to help you, whether it's assisting with training or surprising you with thoughtful gestures and gifts.

She may become more physically affectionate, offering warm hugs and gentle touches, hoping that her actions will convey her deep affection.

Obanai Iguro (Serpent Hashira):

Obanai, known for his reserved and enigmatic nature, struggles to openly express his emotions. His affection is often hidden beneath a stoic façade.

He becomes more attentive to your needs, carefully observing and anticipating your desires to ensure your comfort and well-being.

Obanai may quietly lend a hand when you least expect it, subtly supporting you without drawing attention to himself.

He finds solace in silently observing you, admiring your every move and cherishing the moments he gets to spend in your presence.

Muichiro Tokito (Mist Hashira):

Muichiro's quiet and introverted nature makes it challenging for him to express his feelings directly. He tends to communicate through subtle actions and gestures.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you, his adoration evident in his gaze, but he struggles to find the right words to express his emotions.

Muichiro becomes more attentive to your presence, seeking opportunities to be near you without drawing too much attention to himself.

When you're around, he may appear slightly more talkative and engaged, making an effort to interact with you and share small snippets of his thoughts.

Muichiro may find comfort in simple acts of kindness, quietly leaving small gifts or tokens of appreciation for you to discover.

He treasures the moments when you two can spend time together, even if it's just sharing a quiet silence or engaging in a shared interest.

Muichiro's subtle displays of affection reflect his deep adoration for you, as he navigates the complex terrain of his emotions with a quiet determination.

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Wind Hashira):

Sanemi's rough and brash exterior hides a softer side that he struggles to express. He often masks his feelings with gruffness and sarcasm.

He may find himself constantly stealing glances at you, his gaze filled with a mix of longing and frustration at your obliviousness.

Sanemi may try to protect you in subtle ways, such as offering to accompany you on missions or keeping an eye out for your safety from a distance.

He may exhibit moments of unexpected kindness, like sparing a genuine smile or offering a small gesture of help when you least expect it.

Sanemi's affections may manifest through teasing and playful banter, using humor as a defense mechanism to cope with his own emotions.

He may struggle to articulate his feelings directly, often resorting to indirect comments or snarky remarks to hide his true emotions.

Sanemi's gruff exterior may soften when you're around, with small glimpses of vulnerability slipping through as he tries to navigate his feelings for you.

All rights reserved @violetduchess. All works of fanfiction belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my express permission. Thank you.~☆

[myszie]

I think your Tutor likes being called a Good Boy

Sub!Matt x reader

Trigger warning - Smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, Throat play, major Corruption kink, maybe Dub!con, degradation.

MDNI

First time writing smut, constructive criticism please!!!

Matt fidgets with his pencil, hands roughly bundled in his lap, You’re supposed to carry over the power” he mumbles, his words terse. I look up at the boy sitting across from me in the prickling sweltering heat of the school library, “Matttt I swear you’re writing in another language at this point” I murmur exasperated, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout.

Matt shifts in his seat - red flush coating his porcelain skin, as he reaches over to correct my mistake. “It’s not hard, you’re just not doing it properly” he adds attempting to joke and look away from my face, and the way my skin shimmers in the heat….so mundane yet so provocative. “You whore, why must you attack me like that” I laugh back tugging at my thin tee so it it doesn’t stick to my body. Not hearing a reaction, and worrying I pushed too far, I lean into Matt only to see him squirming in his lap as diverts his gaze from the dip of my collarbone.

“You don’t look so good Matty….its too hot in here…wanna study in my car?” I offer cooing at the boy as I help him gather his things, perfectly disguising the ways my hands linger as I help him put stuff in his bag.

The boy shuffles behind me, his hands firmly plastered to the front of his body…the heat, your lips and the ways your words were just on the precipice of his desire. Watching Matt struggle ever so much under my gaze, the battle behind clinging to his perfect image is downright tempting. Like a white canvas begging for colour, begging to be ruined.

“Does that feel better?” I murmur, softly rubbing his thighs, to comfort him of course and not anything else. The hitch in his breath is loud and clear within the silence of the car, but I’m more than happy to indulge in this game of cat and mouse a bit longer. “The heat was really getting you huh?” I coo again, this time pressing a cold beer near his jugular. “Mhm this should help the flush” I say smirking slightly as I hover over the boy, but seeing his blush darken and eyes look wide and dazed…my temptation peels and I can’t help but dip the bottle lower…near his chest.

Matt gasps biting his lips, “Yea that feels…better” he manages to force out even though the ice did nothing to calm the raging hard on he was packing. He was too far gone at this point, he needed you to keep touching him. “I think I know what will feel really good though Matty, what hill help ……this” I whisper in his ears as I drag the cold beer bottle close to his navel. Matts eyes widens and before he can process what you’re proposing, I pull my hands back and settle in my chair acting nonchalant. “Feel better Matty?” I lilt, stressing the syllable. Matt eyes turn to mine, completely wide and his chest heaves as his brain tries to cope with the fact that he hadn’t just imagined your hands near his cock.

I stare back at him, a challenge and invitation clear in my eyes, “No…need help” he finally murmurs out his words stressed and broken. “Mhm you were quite rude you know, you should ask me nicely” I rasp as I let my hands and nails ghost over the skin of his thigh. Matt hands ball in his laps as his body shakes under my touch, “please help me…please” he finally manages and I smile my touch getting bolder as it palms the bulge in his pants. “Help you do what bunny?” I say smirking, having fun while breaking down matts composure. “Touch me please” Matt moans his hips rising up as they grind up into my hands.

Smirking I’m immediately on him, straddling his heaving frame in the small car. My red manicured hands grasp both sides of his face, as I look into his eyes….”You thought you were being subtle huh, palming your dick in the library like a slut” I rasp roughly kissing his perfectly pouty laps. Matt all but whimpers as his hips ground up to mine, moving desperately for friction. I squeeze his mouth, “Open” and spit in his mouth as he spreads open his mouth, “god such a desperate slut, now swallow” I say licking a line of sweat down the side of his neck. I’m well aware of the fact by this point he’s practically humping me, but I let him…he was too pure yet to ruin completely and besides I didn’t wanna reveal all my cards.

“You desperate boy, I thought you needed me to touch you, but here you’re more than happy humping me like a Rabid bunny in heat….fuck perfect Matt is such a little slut…doing all this when anyone can see the fucked out look on your face” I tease my hands grasping his throat as I too grind down on him. Matt tries to answer, his words muffled in moans and I laugh, “You don’t gave permission to speak doll” I say biting his lips.

Matt is all but reduced to to heap of grunts and moans, his hips chasing the rhythm of mine. Feeling himself get closer, he can’t help but moan out, “Fuck feels so good” as he cums in his pants against the heat of my centre. I ride him through his orgasm drawing out the sensitivity, until I address him with a hard glare.

“I said you’re not allowed to speak doll”

Y’all want part 2? I’m not sure?

Tag list

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[councilofcastamere]

SAINTLIKE | AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : when you, now a Lannister, return to King’s Landing, Aemond ensures you won’t leave.

TW: smut, groping, mentions of anal, penetration, oral (fem receiving), degradation mixed with praise???, creampie, breeding, slight cum eating

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

TAGLIST: @toodlesxcuddles , @imsoshygirl

“Gods, Helaena,” you sigh softly, spraying your perfume on your dress. your slender fingers continue to spray it on your neck, behind your ears and the inside of your wrists. “It feels strangely comforting to get away from all that gold up in Casterly Rock.”

“I’ve missed you, sister.” she said in response, sitting on your bed with her eyes focused on her sewing. "But Aemond missed you more.”

“I'm sure he did,” you say softly, biting your cheek to prevent a smile from spreading. your eyes flickered to the bed Helaena was sitting on. the chambers Aemond had snuck a thousand times in to get some comfort to sleep. “Do you have any-"

“The dragon eats the lion,” your little sister suddenly interrupted you, looking up from her sewings. “The lion is blinded by pride, but the dragon is blinded by rage.”

you dropped the perfume on the floor, dumbfounded by Helaena's interruption.

“Come again?” you asked softly, careful as to not undermine her. you knew better than to undermine her sayings after the time she proclaimed Aemond had to close an eye. “What are you talking about, sweet sister?”

she only hummed, and sprayed some perfume to the back of your knees as you lifted up your dress.

"I will see you at supper, sister." she dismissed your question with a gentle tone, standing up.

you bid her goodbye, your confusion present to what it meant. However, you shook it off. Your boys were with the Septa, Aemond was practicing his swordsmanship, Aegon was doing god knows what...

you readied your hair again, making certain the curls at the bottom were luscious enough. you then headed out to the halls, your flat flootwear tapping against the ground with each step you take.

“Aunt y/n!” you heard a masculine voice call out, causing you to turn your head at the voice. you recognised the two brown-haired princes instantly.

“Nephews,” you smile warmly, embracing Lucerys first. you rubbed his back and asked him how he was doing, to which he delightfully replied that he’s officially betrothed to Rhaena.

you rise up again and turn to the eldest, Jacaerys. you could have sworn you saw him blush, but you knew better than to act as if you know the truth. you engulfed him into a hug, your scent rubbing off on him. “How have you been?”

he blinked twice, his mouth slightly parted at seeing you again. “Good, auntie.” he said softly, attempting to stand tall and noble.

“Good.” you nodded respectfully, trying to brush them off politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some urgent business with your mother.”

they both nodded, and scurried off to the courtyard, you knew that if you mentioned you’d be visiting your dear brother’s chamber, all you’d hear are subtle sighs of annoyance and whines disguised as uncertainty.

you treated down the grand halls again, finally reaching his chambers. there were no guards, strangely enough, and you took the liberty of opening the door, entering, and shutting it behind you.

“Sister.” his voice startles you, causing you to turn around. “What brings you here?”

“Aemond,” you smiled, trying not to let your eyes flicker to his tunic less form, stepping a few steps closer to look him up in the eyes. “You are attending supper, are you not?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked gravelly, his hands sliding down to the small of your back. you tried to avoid it, but you felt a small sense of arousal affecting your thoughts. “After all, nothing more than a supper with… family.”

“Aemond,” you whisper, as if he had just said a sentence condemning the gods. “No matter how you think about it they are still Rhaenyra’s. Half Targaryen.”

“Is that what she told you after you confronted her?” he asked huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips. “That her fucking a strong was just, and that they’re still half-fucking-Valyrian?”

“Aemond, stop,” you say in a hushed tone, feeling his other hand run across your stomach area, covered by the dress, unable to feel your full breasts due to the material of your dress. “We shouldn’t. My lord husband-”

he broke off your sentence by pressing his lips upon yours, his tall figure looking over you as if it was a shadow, your face in his hands as if it were a precious gem needing to be cradled.

“Your craven of a husband is out fucking whores, not seeing the absolute fucking beauty he has in front of him,” he murmured between kisses, his slender hands working to unbutton your dress. “But it’s fine, I suppose. You were meant to be mine anyways. Meant to be carrying my children.”

you tried not to kiss back, you really did, but his hand crept up the second your dress was dropped, and kneaded your breasts. then he took advantage of your little gasp as to slip his tongue inside. you let out soft moans, your hand flying to his hair.

“Perfect, rōva mandia,” he coos, his hand once again switching positions to rub at your asscheeks and hips. “After 4 sons, you've remained sensitive. That cunt of a Lannister must have not pleased you enough, has he?”

the only thing you could do was shake your head, placing little kisses on his neck and face which in all honesty, were adorable to him. your eyes looked at him so purely, yet he couldn’t see you as anything other than a vixen born to seduce him.

“Be a dear and show your little brother what he has missed,” he whispered in your ear, and you obliged rather quickly, crawling onto the bed, your tight little back-hole showing for him.

“Hm,” was all he said as he took his time stepping, coming to rub one of your ass cheeks as he took a look at your tight asshole. “We'll have countless nights to do that.”

you were about to open your mouth, before he tenderly turned your body over, leaning in to lick the corners of your lips, purposely drooling some of his saliva into your mouth.

“The gods have made us be together, for they know how we belong.” he murmured in between planting kisses on your jaw and throat. “You belong in black and red. I’ll give you the gold anytime you desire it.”

you grow even wetter at his words, pushing your hips up to rub yourself against his already rock-hard cock prominent through his breeches. the feeling did not last long, as one of his hands moved from gripping the sheet next to your head, to pinning your hips down.

“Oh, do you desire me now, rōva mandia?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his. “I’ve grown, sister. I am a man now. A man worthy of you.”

his lips kissed the top of your breasts, before latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it while he kneaded and pinched the other with his hand.

“Ae-aemond,” you whine, your eyes trained on his bulge. you looked up at him and you couldn’t look more possibly beautiful than now. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sister,” he rubbed your stomach, his other kneading your tits. you whined but quickly stopped once he brushed some hair out of your face. “You’ll be given my cock, but beforehand I'll have to taste your sweet essence I’ve been thinking about for years.”

“Aemond, I need it,” you begged him, rubbing your foot all over his crotch to rile him up. “I need you.”

he only let out a satisfied hum, kissing each toe and trailing up to your calves, knees, thighs up until his big hands spread them apart.

you remained too aroused to properly function, letting out a deep breath when his tongue only took one lick of your folds. what followed after was his thumb rubbing your sensitive pussy, having you let out fast breaths.

“Are you not used to having anything other than your husband’s cock touching your cunny?” he asked mockingly, placing a kiss on your wet folds. “Of course not, my sweet sister deserves to get fucked like a whore, and treated like a princess.”

you let out a whine at his words, practically thrusting your hips into his face. he licked at your folds and used the muscles of his tongue to fuck into you pleasurably. he let out a few grunts himself as if he was tasting the sweetest essence ever known. his hand rubbed up and down your thigh as you wrapped them around his head.

he continued tongue-fucking you, occasionally stopping to suck on your sensitive bud, his big hand continued to caress and massage your thighs, slurping up your sweet taste. you let out the most melodious moans he has ever known.

“Valonqar,” you moaned out, thrusting your hips against his face. he sucked and swirled his tongue against your clit. your muscles clench around him tighter and tighter, feeling something build up in your stomach. your body tensed up as his tongue gave his final thrusts.

“Come for me, rōva mandia, come hard for your brother,” he murmured, his tongue making his final trust on your stimulated clit. “Scream my name.”

you finally bursted, your orgasm washing over your. half of the juice shot down Aemond's throat and the other half drooled down his chin. he eagerly slurped up your juices, before rubbing his cum-covered chin against your breasts, rubbing the cum off on your breasts.

“My sister, my love,” he coos, kissing the shell of your ear. “The best woman to give my cock to.”

he got rid of his breeches and pulled out his hardened member, throbbing with pre-cum. he let out a soft hiss as it rubbed against your entrance, teasing you endlessly.

“We should stop,” you say softly. “Anyone could come i- ah!”

you let out a gasp as he began to began to circle your sensitive button with the tip of his erection. his hands were placed on your waist, pinning you down.

“Let them,” he murmured close to your lips, his unoccupied hand coming up to trace his thumb over your bottom lip. “Let them see how a dragon has claimed another dragon. As it should be.”

you moan loudly, feeling him push his fat head into your throbbing pussy. his cock was much better than your lord husband’s, thrusting slowly into your tight heat. his face cane close again to plant suck and kiss on your jawline, holding your face to the side.

“My sister is too beautiful,” he murmured in between occasional quiet grunts, feeling you deeper with each trust. “The only cunt that’s perfect for me.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your sweet eyes looking up at him. his one eye met yours, locking eyes intensely. your gasps and moans, accompanied by clapping sounds lingered around the room. his hand creeped down to knead your breasts, brushing a thumb over your hard nipple. his hips went upwards to thrust deeper. he could hear those telltale cries of ecstasy, and basked in it.

“You wish for me to put a babe inside of you?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Of course you do. You’re mine, and once that husband of yours knows his place, we will be wed.”

you clenched around him, juices already wetting his cock inside of you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hand rubbed your clit. you looked up at him once again, and he looked majestic and vulgarly gorgeous. his hair sticking to his forehead, not as straight anymore now that it’s wet. you were a sight for sore eyes to him as well, your dark hair messy and disheveled, your cheeks red and your neck scattered in hickeys.

after a few moments, you came undone, spilling against his cock. not soon after, he slowed his thrust and shot his load inside of you, a part of him forever embedded within your womb.

“Too beautiful,” he murmured, planting kisses all over your breasts and collarbone. “You have been mine since we were children. You were meant to be my betrothed. Tis I who has always loved you.”

you only smiled, but even that made his heart flutter and his cock twitch. he slowly engulfed you into a kiss, slipping his cock outside of you.

“My children have taken a liking to you,” you smile, rubbing your nose against his. “I’d love for you to stay by our side.”

“Which I will do,” he replied, his big hand rubbing your stomach. “After all, they ought to meet one of their own.”

you were about to attempt to stand up on shaky legs, but his veined hands cupped your face and slowly pinned you back down.

“Do not clean yourself up, rōva mandia,” his melodic voice ringed. “Let us depart to supper with my seed, deep inside of you. The bastard might realise how little chance he makes with you.”

[matcrdolorosa]

SIN AND TONIC ᡣ𐭩 . . . featuring: dazai osamu ﾉ word count + warnings: 727, fluff, gn! reader, not proof read. [ SUMMARY ] : a moment of affection from dazai as you both laze in bed.

+ AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you know me, no you don't. <3

He’s taking your hand by the wrist, and he feels your pulse. It started out of instinct, disguising it as an excuse that it just happened to be easier, reaching for your wrist and pulling you closer, reaching for your wrist and holding you in place, and it comes naturally for his fingers to wrap around it, pressing his thumb right over that spot where he feels a subtle thumping.

His other hand busies itself, playing with your own fingers, grasping one by one at the first knuckle. he moves gently along them, feeling each and every one of your bones as he taunts and presses, tracing the expanse of the skin covering them as if it was expensive silk, bending your fingers or even cracking your thumb the moment you get distracted and peel your eyes away from him.

That elicits a groan and a laugh. a groan from you, of course, and he has to giggle at your antics, of course. it’s a subtle giggle that he muffles into your own palm, right after he brings it towards his mouth to kiss it.

Dazai’s kisses are purposeful, slow and delicate. He repeats it again when you blink a little slower -maybe you’re still tired, maybe you’re just confused on why he’s doing it- but he enjoys taking time out of his day to appreciate every part of you.

Sometimes it comes during lazy mornings, not ready yet to leave the bed, still clinging to your body and watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, drawing mindless patterns over your clothes, or during long nights where sleep doesn’t find him and he gets restless, only finding (and only searching) comfort in you, in how he needs to bring you closer, grasping your wrist like he always does, when you haven’t taken that special spot next to him yet where you bury your face into his chest and slot one of your legs between his own.

Dazai can’t get enough of your little grumbles, of your whines and his name muttered under your breath, when you wake up after his stupid drawings creep underneath your shirt and tickle your skin, earning goosebumps and short shudders that end up waking you up. or those sleepy, inevitable sounds he earns when you try to push him away, searching for the coldness of the sheets, the softness of your own pillow to get more sleep, but to no avail, as he wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you flush against him. It works like magic every time, since you slowly make up for all those complaints with a roll of your hips as you adjust, pressing your back against his chest, tilting your head to the side and he catches the memo, nuzzling against your neck, not before pressing a kiss to the slope of your shoulder.

His lips go to the heel of your palm, to your knuckles, to the tips of your fingers. he’s worshiping your hand with soft caresses, holding it close to his lips as if it was sacred. He mutters a little i love you when he finally reaches your pulse point once again.

You’re peering through your eyelashes, unaware of what he has planned, a smile tugging at your lips that makes his blood rush to his cheeks. It’s always when he least expects it, that you smile and his walls crumble even if it’s just momentarily. He feels like he could get lost in the sight of you laying on the bed next to him, but he has to balance it out with a bite to the spot he had just kissed, a grin plastered over his expression, and your own turn into a scowl.

The whimper from the bite is inevitable, a pout forms when he tries to go back to sink his teeth into your flesh yet again. He aims for your fingers as you wriggle in his grasp, he lowers his head to pull the skin on your forearm when you try to push him away, a hand to his chest even though the strength isn’t enough to actually get him away.

Dazai knows you too well to understand that you’re not really trying to push him off, and you know him a little to guess it’s just his nature: to bite you after showing affection.

[grandline-fics]

Do you think I can request a seamstress y/n being part of the strawhat crew and how they need to make new outfits for the crew as disguises and when it came to luffys turn, it was kinda difficult for them because they have a huge crush on him and seeing him bare for measurements kills them a little-

Kinda just a sorta oblivious luffy witnessing y/n get flustered a little!

Really curious how you’re going to make it end lol

(Love your writing sm! Thank you for advanced!)

DESCRIPTION: You’re the crew’s seamstress and measuring Luffy leaves you flustered 

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 934

A/N:  Sorry this took so long but I hope it was worth it and that you like how it all turned out

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When it came to your passion of designing and making clothes you were unbelievably focussed. It was to the point that if the crew wanted to distract you from something they’d bring up the topic of a new design they had in mind. Some of the crew were more subtle about this tactic than others, for instance when Sanji needed you away from the kitchen for a few hours so he could work on your surprise birthday banquet, Robin expertly brought up a floral skirt and top combination she wanted to wear but couldn’t find the right colour scheme anywhere.

On that occasion you’d gotten so motivated that by the time you were needed for the banquet you had to be physically dragged out of your workshop. Oppositely there was one time Zoro had stolen your dressmaker’s mannequin to test out which angle would be best to attack someone from for his new technique. When you’d found out and went to rescue your possession Zoro had tried the distraction method but merely said ‘buttons’ which only bewildered you for the briefest of moments before you took back what was yours while it was thankfully still in tact. Yes, there was no way your focus could be shaken when it came to your work…well except when it came to your Captain. Your very oblivious Captain. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just a crush, that he didn’t feel that way about you and he was just affectionate and energetic by nature and you were good with that, you really were. The last thing you ever wanted to do was jeopardise the amazing friendship you’d made with Luffy. So you kept your crush to yourself and things continued as normal. The only time things threatened to reveal themselves was at moments like these. The ship was heading into dangerous territory governed by another rival pirate which meant keeping as low a profile as possible and that meant they were depending on you for appropriate disguises. 

“Luffy please just stand still.” You lightly begged, watching your Captain excitedly move about your workspace, touching the bolts of different fabrics and flicking through your design book with glee like it was his very first time in the room when in reality you’d lost count how often his presence had been in and out. At your plea he stopped running his fingers through the soft patterned material that had caught his attention and turned to face you with his usual carefree grin. You sighed in relief and slowly reached for your measuring tape while trying to keep your expression as relaxed as possible. This was always the hard part so you just tried to go as quickly as possible. “Shirt off.”

You had no problem seeing any of the other guys shirtless, yeah most of them were impressive but the only one to get you  to be a shaking, blushing mess was Luffy. When Luffy’s hands moved to his shirt you dropped your gaze away, mostly out of respect but also because you could already hear your heart slamming against your chest and feel your skin begin to heat. When you heard the fabric of his shirt fall on the ground you looked up, trying to keep your gaze focussed on Luffy’s eyes but you couldn’t help but let it drop for the briefest of moments to peek at his impressive physique. Snapping out of it you instructed quickly. “Arms out.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl when Luffy grinned and extended his arms out to you as though inviting you in for a hug as opposed to putting his arms outward so you could accurately measure his frame. You knew it wasn’t his intention to fluster you like this, it was just Luffy being Luffy but it made things so much harder to deal with. Resisting the urge to give in to temptation you took hold of Luffy’s wrist and pulled to manoeuvre him correctly. Quickly you stood behind him and began to lift your tape towards him. With every adventure and fight meant Luffy’s body got only more and more defined and it made measuring him a greater struggle.

It was a relief that you managed to make it through most of the process without making too much of an idiot of yourself but by the end of it all you were beet red and trying to look anywhere but the cause. Through it all Luffy was his happy, oblivious self, talking excitedly about the disguise he wanted but when you stepped away he finally took a proper look at you. “Huh? Are you feeling okay?” He asked, leaning in closer and pressing his hand against your head. However that action meant his still bare chest was against you too which only made your condition worse. “You shouldn’t have been working if you’re sick. I’ll go get Chopper, okay?”

“N-no! I’ll be fine!” Your guilt for making him worry managed to pull you back from your inner spiral. “I’m just…too warm! Something cool to drink and I’ll be back to normal.” You reassured only for Luffy to grin and pull you out of your workshop and straight to the kitchen so you could cool down. Finally feeling more yourself and no longer overheating thanks to Luffy sitting back you could focus on the design. “So you never said what colours you wanted for this disguise, Luffy.”

Luffy blinked at you and gave you a look as though you were the oblivious one. “Well as long as it matches you I’ll be happy.”

[lilacmingi]

HADES (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Hades!Hongjoong x fem!reader

Word count: 2,830

Note: This imagine is part of my Disney Villains series from 2022 on Wattpad! 😈 Also!! I have a new rule in place. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE! Reading through a series and liking the post when you’re done is fine, but don’t go through and like multiple imagines one after the next consecutively please! I don’t wanna get shadowbanned </3 if you wanna save multiple imagines to read later, like my masterlist instead!

It was a boring day in the Underworld. The flow of souls coming in was lower than usual, which meant Hongjoong didn't have much to do. His poilished, black nails tapped against the arm of his throne as he stared blankly into the flames before him.

He was bored to death.

He snapped his fingers, his two lackeys appearing in a puff of black smoke.

"You called?" Wooyoung asked, brushing his hair away from his face.

"It's a slow day." Hongjoong responded.

"We noticed." San added, suppressing a yawn.

"I was thinking we could have some fun in the mortal realm today. What do you think, boys?"

The duo shared a look, mischievous smirks tugging at their lips.

Hongjoong took that as a yes.

The three disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, appearing in the mortal realm somewhere away from the crowds. Hongjoong was quick to disguise himself in his human form. His extravagant, black attire was replaced with cream-colored robes to blend in. He looked at the two stood across from him.

"What have you got?" He asked, indicating for the two to show him their disguises.

In an instant, the pair turned into two children.

A wicked smile spread across Hongjoong's features.

"Perfect. No one ever suspects children."

"What do you want us to do, boss?" San inquired.

"Go wreak havoc. Steal something, harass the elderly, let the livestock loose in the streets." He ordered, listing off things that would cause disturbances.

"You got it." The two saluted Hongjoong before scurrying off into town leaving their boss to watch the chaos ensue.

You strode through town, perusing the different carts lined up along the dusty streets. You didn't need anything in particular, you just wanted to get out, stretch your legs, and get some fresh air.

Suddenly, you heard a commotion from somewhere behind you. You turned around to see what was going on, and when you did, two little boys ran by nearly knocking you off your feet as they did so. You stumbled a bit but was quick to regain your balance as you saw the two kids run over to a nearby fruit cart. You couldn't help but notice one of them going to steal an apple. Just when you were about to speak up, the lady running the small business began shouting at them, shooing them away. You frowned, feeling sorry for the two boys.

"Excuse me." You called out, stepping towards the fruit cart. "What's going on?"

"These two ruffians tried to steal my goods!" She spoke harshly, her voice a bit gravelly.

"They were just hungry, I'm sure."

"Lady, do you see the chaos these two have caused?" She pointed to the other vendors' carts lining the street. Some appeared to have things knocked off, the sellers trying to gather their goods out of the streets.

"I'm sure they didn't mean to. They were probably just having fun and weren't paying attention. Right?" You asked, turning to the children.

They both nodded.

You then bent down to their level, looking at the two of them. One had short, choppily cut black hair, the other longer brown hair with subtle waves. They both looked to be around the same age, maybe seven years old. You weren't too sure. Either way, you weren't going to leave them without making sure they were alright and out of trouble.

"Where are your parents?" You asked.

Neither said a word.

"Do you have parents?"

The one with brown hair nodded while the one with choppy black hair shook his head. You weren't sure what to think of that, so you chose to overlook it.

"Are you guys hungry? I'll get you something."

The two shared a glance before nodding.

You stood up to face the lady running the fruit stand.

"I'd like two apples, please."

"For these two delinquents?" She asked, harshly.

"I'm giving you business, so why does it matter who I give them to?"

The vendor pressed her lips together, knowing she couldn't possibly refuse a paying customer.

"Alright." She huffed, taking the money from me.

"Thank you." You gave her a friendly smile, picking two apples from the woven baskets on the cart and handing them to the boys.

"Thank you, Miss." The brown-haired boy smiled, his cheeks round like bread.

Hongjoong, who was watching from a distance witnessed the whole thing. He felt something in his chest when he saw how kind you were towards San and Wooyoung. It was an odd feeling he hadn't felt before—ever. He wanted to talk to you right that instant. He then stepped out of his hiding spot and began walking over.

"San! Wooyoung!" He called.

You lifted your gaze at the unfamiliar voice, your eyes landing on a man with straight, black hair. He had a prominent nose that came to a point; it was dainty and reminded you of a fairy. He hurried over to the two children, crouching down to their height.

"There you two are." He spoke.

His voice was unique. It was a bit higher than you expected, but so light and airy. You could listen to him talk all day.

"Oh. Do you know them?" You inquired.

"Yes. I'm their... older brother, actually."

"Ah. I thought they were lost so I bought them apples. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. That was very kind of you." He went quiet for a moment before piping up. "I'm Hongjoong. That's San and that's Wooyoung."

"I'm Y/n." You introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you." Hongjoong smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Miss Y/n." The boy with the choppy hair, who you now know as San, thanked you.

"Yeah. You're really nice." Wooyoung spoke up.

"Thank you, boys. You're awfully kind."

"You were so nice to my brothers, I feel like I should do something for you in return. You know, as a way to say thank you." Hongjoong spoke.

"That's alright. You don't have to do anything for me."

"I insist."

"Well, if you must."

"Would you be interested in a visit to the theater?"

"The theater?"

He nodded with a smile.

"That's a very nice offer."

"Is it something you'd be interested in?"

"I would."

"Wonderful." He beamed.

His smile was incredible. His teeth were stunning and so white. You'd never seen anyone with a smile as perfect as his.

"We could meet by the colosseum tomorrow when the sun reaches the top of that mountain." He pointed.

"That works." You nodded.

"Are you going on a date with my brother?" Wooyoung asked.

"Date?" You parroted.

You and Hongjoong both started denying it.

"No, no, no." You shook your head.

"I'm just thanking her for being nice to you two." Hongjoong clarified.

The two boys gave both of you skeptical looks.

"Alright, well we should be going." Hongjoong spoke up, pushing his brothers forward. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day, you met Hongjoong outside the colosseum as promised. You put on your best robes, wanting to impress the handsome man. It seemed he was thinking the same as you, because he showed up wearing nice robes as well.

"You look wonderful." He complimented.

"So do you."

"Ah. Really?" He asked, pushing his hair back.

"Yes. Very handsome." You told him.

"Shall we head inside?" He nodded towards the colosseum entrance.

"Of course."

He offered you his hand, which you gratefully took and allowed him to lead you inside.

The both of you got seated and waited for the chairs around you to fill up.

"I love coming to the theater." Hongjoong commented. "It's a nice break from work."

"What do you do?" You asked.

"Oh." He seemed caught off guard by the question. "I'm a... supervisor."

"A supervisor? What do you supervise?"

"The dead."

"Oh. So you're a coroner?"

"Yes, exactly! That's what it's called." He nodded.

"Don't you get creeped out being so close to dead bodies?"

"Well, I don't really deal with the bodies."

You gave him an odd look. "Isn't that what a coroner does?"

"Oh, um, I mean, it's not so bad. I just look at the body and document the person's time of death, so I'm not around them for too long."

"Hm." You hummed in response.

"The show's starting." Hongjoong pointed.

The two of you continued to spend time together for the next few weeks. Hongjoong took you to incredible places and did many fun and exciting things with you. It was never boring when you were with him. Always something new.

The both of you walked hand in hand as Hongjoong took you home. Your hair was adorned with flowers Hongjoong had placed in there. You had even placed a few in his locks as well. You had just gotten back from watching the sun set on a hill overlooking the city. It was the most perfect evening ever.

"Thank you for today." You told him, leaning your head over on his shoulder.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you had a good time."

"It was wonderful, as usual. You always seem to find a way to one-up the previous date."

"Oh, so these are dates now?" He asked with a smirk.

"Of course they are. That visit to the theater was a date too."

"How so?" Hongjoong inquired.

"I know you didn't just invite me to the theater to thank me for being nice to your brothers."

"Alright, you got me." He chuckled. "I needed an excuse to see you again."

"So you admit you were smitten from the start?"

"You could call it that." He smiled, fondly. "What about you?"

"I was quite taken with you too." You admitted.

"I knew it." He grinned.

"Liar." You laughed, shoving him playfully.

Your heart sank just slightly when you saw your home come into view. You always hated saying goodbye to Hongjoong, but you knew you'd be see each other again soon—you always did.

The two of you came to a stop at your front entrance.

"I don't want to leave." You told him.

He smiled a bit as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

"I know."

"Thank you again for the wonderful afternoon."

"Of course, darling." He smiled warmly, his thumb caressing your cheek, sending a rush of tingles throughout your body. "Now go get some rest."

You nodded as Hongjoong's hand fell from your face.

"Oh. There's something that I want to tell you. It's pretty important. Can you meet me at the building overlooking the botanical garden tomorrow after sunset?"

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"It's not the right time."

"And tomorrow is?" You inquired.

"Yes. So, will you meet me there?"

"Of course, Hongjoong."

"Thank you."

You stepped inside, glancing back at the charming man.

"Sweet dreams." He whispered.

You gave him a small wave before closing the door.

It took you a while to get to sleep that night, as all you could think of was what Hongjoong might want to say to you. He could want to officially ask you to be his girlfriend, that would make you really happy. Or it could be something else. You tried not to think of anything negative as you finally forced yourself to go to sleep.

You approached the building Hongjoong asked you to meet him at. Your hands were slightly clammy as you headed to the balcony in the back. The sun had gone down, bathing the scenery in its cloak of darkness. You had wondered why Hongjoong wanted to meet at night, but chose not to question it.

You admired the beautiful nighttime scene and the way the bright moon cast shadows over the trees and sculptures in the garden sitting below. It was somewhat eerie but beautiful at the same time.

"You showed." A voice spoke up.

You turned to see Hongjoong approaching.

"Of course I showed." You smiled. "I told you I would."

"Thank you."

"You said you wanted to tell me something?"

"I do." He confirmed. "Well, I also want to show you something."

You stood and waited, watching as he took in a deep breath.

"Watch this." He instructed with a smile.

He held his hand out, a rose engulfed in blue flames appearing out of thin air.

You stared at it in awe, unable to comprehend how he conjured the flower out of nothing and also why it wasn't wilting under the flames.

"How did you do—" You were cut off when you looked up to see Hongjoong standing in front of you, but he looked different—very different.

His normal black hair was now blue, matching flames of the same hue were coming off the ends of his locks. His outfit had changed as well. Instead of his usual cream-colored robes was now an odd-looking black outfit made of some sort of leather. He donned a large feathery coat on top with a black skull on his shoulder. It was nothing like you had ever seen before. The outfit wasn't the only thing that changed. His brown eyes were now covered in heavy eye makeup, black shadows smudged around his intense eyes.

His entire look was, in a word, otherworldly.

"Hongjoong?" You asked, shocked by his new appearance, unconsciously taking a step back as the rose fell from your hand.

"Y/n, just let me explain before you freak out, okay?"

You took in a deep breath, staying silent and allowing him to continue.

"I'm not actually human. I'm god of the underworld."

Your eyes widened in shock and mild horror.

I've been going on dates with the god of death? You thought in disbelief.

"I couldn't come right out and tell you because I didn't want you to run away. I wanted you to get to know me for me."

Hearing him say that made you pause for a moment. He's right. You probably would have ran away if he came out looking like he did.

"I'm still the same Hongjoong, I just look a little different is all."

He had a point. It's not like he's some monster. He's still Hongjoong.

"So, San and Wooyoung aren't your brothers?" You asked.

"No." He shook his head. "They're my henchman."

"And you're not a coroner." You said it like a statement.

"No."

You let out a short sigh. "I can't be mad at you. You had good intentions. Also, you did kinda tell the truth about your profession. You do supervise the dead."

"That I do." He chuckled. "So, does this change the way you feel about me?"

You smiled softly. "No."

Hongjoong took a few steps forward, reaching his hand out. His jewelry-clad fingers glimmered under the moonlight as he waited for you grab hold of his hand.

"Your nails." You commented, glancing at his black colored fingernails.

"You like them?"

You nodded. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, sweetheart, things in the Underworld are a bit different than they are here."

"I imagine so." You said, glancing at Hongjoong's outfit.

"Maybe I can show you one day."

"You can take me there?" You asked.

"Of course. I'm king, so I make the rules."

You chuckled.

Hongjoong pulled you close, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. Your breathing quickened as you realized how close your faces were.

"Will you be my queen, Y/n?"

"What?" You choked out.

"Not now, but someday. Will you be my queen and rule the Underworld by my side?"

"That's a difficult question to answer at the moment."

"Then let's start with girlfriend first. How's that?"

"Good. That I can handle." You nodded with a light chuckle.

Hongjoong smiled, his thumb gently ghosting over your bottom lip.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice so gentle it made your heart flip.

All you could do was nod your head.

The gap between your mouths was closed instantly as Hongjoong's lips met yours, nearly taking your breath away. His hands briefly squeezed your sides as his lips pressed harder against your own.

"You're so beautiful, darling." He murmured before diving back in for another kiss, his hands roaming your waist as yours stayed firmly planted on his shoulders.

You pulled away, gazing into his eyes.

"I don't want this night to end." You admitted, your fingers playing with the black feathers of Hongjoong's coat.

"It doesn't have to. We can always take a walk through the garden or gaze at the stars."

"That sounds romantic... but first I'd like to try that kiss again." You grinned.

"As you wish, my dear."

When Hongjoong asked you about ruling the Underworld with him, it caught you off guard. However, the idea of being by his side made you happy and the thought of it was rather appealing. Maybe one day you would accept his offer. As of right now, you'd like to take things slow and just have a normal relationship—well, as normal as a relationship with the god of the Underworld could be.

Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny @iammeandmeisiam @delulu18

[shrimpybbq]

Blessing in Disguise (2)

Abstract: A war-torn Gwayne is presented with an opportunity when the dragon of a Targaryen Princess is shot down near his camp. A once devout follower of his Knight's oath, Gwayne no longer sees much point when Criston Cole gifts him Princess, his only requirement being to keep her alive. The Hightower Knight has suppressed his own urges for so long, but now, he no longer wishes to, not when he's been given a sweet Princess just for himself.

Warnings: abuse of power, prisoner/captor dynamics, gross men, restraints, Gwayne is growing more delulu, future dubcon/noncon (not proof read)

Author’s Note: this chapter is seriously diving into just how much Gwayne is loosing it, and building up his motives and morals. He thinks of himself as a saviour and all his actions are rooted in this need to keep protecting the Princess.

Tag List: @torchbearerkyle @beautifultacodragon

Two days had passed since the Princess was captured, and two days had passed since Gwayne had been given the responsibility of keeping her alive. For the first day, he’d faced little trouble as the still unconscious girl slumbered in his tent, her frame draped across his own makeshift bed. The turmoil was rife within the knight however; for he knew little of what to do with the girl. To keep her hidden away in his tent for the rest of the campaign seemed cruel, but letting the Princess roam around the camp was a risk that could bring doom to the army. While he didn’t know for certain of her likely reaction upon waking, Gwayne felt that the Princess would not take kindly to her newfound position as captive.

The second day helped the knight make up his mind, for the Princess began to rouse herself from her state. He’d been eating the claggy paste they called oatmeal when movement caught his eye from across the tent. With sluggish movements, the girl pushed her weak and frail body up to a somewhat seated position as her eyes took in her surroundings. Gwayne found the confused expression on her face amusing, but sighed deeply as her eyes widened in alarm upon laying her sights on the Hightower Green of his doublet and the red of his hair. He watches as she begins to sputter and gasp as she tries to speak, but despite her best efforts, her brain fails to deliver a coherent question to the knight.

“You are in no position to run, or much less even argue, so I suggest you still yourself whilst I explain the predicament you’ve found yourself in,” Gwayne’s lilting voice cutting across the tent, his words stilling any movement from the Princess. Though he’s attempted to make his tone lighter, it’s clear that his tone carries a subtle warning.

The Princess nods softly before speaking, her voice hoarse and croaky due to disuse, “Wh-who are you?”

She fears she knows and yet some part of her hopes that perhaps it has been a case of mistaken identity - that this man across from her, whose tent she lays in, is not the brother to the Queen Dowager.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower, Princess.” It’s all he says. Gwayne notices the crestfallen expression on her face deepen, her fingers beginning to play with the threads of the blanket. “Your dragon was slain after it flew above our territory, the scorpion striking it down with great accuracy. It was not expected that Rhaenyra would have sent her only daughter on dragonback and yet, there you were.”

“M-my drag-”

Gwayne doesn’t let her speak and instead continues his recounting. “Criston Cole made the decision that your life should be spared. He wishes to use you as tool to garner your mother’s surrender, and in turn, has granted you the most esteemed opportunity of a true camp experience.”

The sweet Princess can only listen silently and a small twinge strikes at Gwayne’s heart as tears begin to fall down her cheeks. He lets her process his words, scraping the last remnants of his oatmeal from the wooden bowl. When she says no more, the knight moves to leave the tent when a timid voice stops him in his tracks.

“What will you do with me?”

The Princess watches the man freeze, his broad back tense and rigid. He stays near the entrance, arms clutching the fabric of the tent as he seems to ponder his answer. She had heard stories of the honourable Ser Gwayne Hightower and yet, chills crash over her at his next words.

“Whatever I so wish, I suppose, as long as your heart still beats in your chest.”

That night the princess remains in his bed, her hands bound and tied to the wooden post holding up the tents fabric. He’s given her some tether, at least allowing her to relax her arms and continue to rest. The Princess had almost drifted into an unpeaceful slumber when a rustling sound echoed around the tent, and a disheveled Hightower strode through the entrance. She had little time to process his intentions as the knight flung off his boots and undid his doublet, leaving him only in his trousers and tunic, watching wide-eyed as he stalked over to the makeshift bed.

“What are you doing?!” The princess shrieked as Gwayne lowered his body next to hers, the flimsy material dipping with his body weight.

“I am sleeping, or at least I hope to be.”

“Get away from me! How dare you,” the girl cried, her body tense as she flung her body out of the bed.

“You may struggle to recall this, but this is my tent. You have been sleeping in my bed and as much as it pleases me to see you enjoying it so, I too wish to rest,” Gwayne bites out, his tone laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled contempt. She could’ve been sleeping on the dirt floor and here she still complains.

Gwayne hears her muttering “no, no” and finds little inside of himself to care, instead tugging on the restraints binding her hands. The squeal as she falls back into the bed makes him smirk, pushing the girl into the fabric and covering her with a blanket.

“Sleep. And keep any foolish ideas you may have of escaping to yourself, for you have no dragon or the faintest idea of your location.”

Gwayne rolls away from the Princess, feeling smug with himself at the lack of response he receives, though the rigid frame of the girl seems to be conveying enough to him. She knows her hopes of escape will not come to fruition tonight, not with the Hightower sleeping by her side. She can’t even retaliate when his heavy frame drapes over her own during the night, arms slung across her stomach as he clings to her body heat. Restless, she lies there listening to his languid breaths, her own heart pounding with anxiety.

The Princess had been in the camp for what felt like months, though her stay had only totalled five days. It seemed that her and her captor had fallen into a somewhat amicable routine: Gwyane would venture down with the Princess to the nearby lake to allow bathe, and the pair would break their fast with the rest of the soldiers. He would then return her to his tent while he talked strategy with Criston, leaving the girl alone, but not unsupervised. He’d given up use of the rope that had attached to her ankle after the first night in the bed, but the knight was still wary of the Princess trying to escape. In the evenings the two would sit by a small fire in the common area of the camp and eat their meager meals, Gwayne even allowing the girl her own cup of mead to wash the bread down. Gwayne couldn’t deny that it felt comforting to have another’s presence as a constant, especially after such long periods of loneliness and isolation. He even begins to warm to his captive, small chuckles leaving his lips more often as they conversed.

And yet their moments of ambivalence seemed to come crashing down as Gwayne left to fetch more mead, only to return and see a common soldier leering over the Princess. His stout body crowded into her space, his hands clutching at her shoulders, the fabric ripping in his harsh grip. From a distance it was difficult for Gwayne to hear the man’s words, though he held strong suspicions of their nature, however as he covered ground his ears picked up more and more.

“Mmm… do you think you could handle the cock of a real man, Princess?” the man muttered sleazily, “I don’t think you could. All you Royal cunts act like you’re above us, but maybe you just need a little demonstration.”

The Princess’s discomfort was plain for all to see, no more so than Gwayne. Her shaking frame and teary eyes look around broadly, pleading for an intervention as her bottom lip trembles in fear. It only takes him a moment to unsheath his sword, raising it to the neck of the soldier.

“Remove your vile hands before I do so for you,” he demands, his tone firm and gaze locked on the scum in front of him. Gwayne revels in the shock that crosses the soldier’s face and his disappearance from his sight shortly after. Common-born folk always aim far above their station, coveting what should never be sullied by them, Gwayne thinks.

The Hightower is caught up in his thoughts as he brings the Princess back to his tent. His chest feels as if it’s filling up with anger, breathing growing heavy at the feeling of the Princess trembling under his grip. Many soldiers had been invited to fight with a great army in the name of the King, and yet here they stood leering and preying on the King’s own niece. Such depravity should be expected of commoners but to dare even suggest of defiling a Princess of the Realm would ordinarily be treason.

It’s only the wide, teary eyes that finally snap Gwayne out of his thoughts. The Princess is clutching his arm, her body pressed into his side as she looks up, lower lip still trembling. The girl had been scared out of her mind, too weak and powerless to stop any advances, and now here she stood a wreck because of it. To see the Princess looking up at him in such a way sends a new series of thoughts running through Gwayne’s mind, tightening his breeches and quickening his breathing.

The men in the camp were only acting in such a depraved way due to a misguided conception that the Princess was not spoken for. They believed that she was free for the taking, for any common man to use and keep. She was his captive though no man seemed to acknowledge his stake of claim over her. She slept in his tent each night, in his bed, by his side. If that would not convince these vile men to back away, then only one thing would. Gwayne was a flawed man, he himself could acknowledge that, but he would protect the Princess as was asked of him, in any way he could. And if that meant he would need to make his position clearer to the camp then he would.

The Princess would understand the actions he needed to take, he thinks, as his hand begins to brush at the exposed skin on her shoulder where her dress had torn. As her breath hitches at the contact, Gwayne can’t help his growing smirk - she’s so responsive to him, not even aware of how she’s pushing her body closer to him unconscionably. He can feel her plush breasts press against his chest and her hips against his own, though she seems unaware of the growing hardness pressing against her stomach.

The Hightower knight assures himself that he won’t enjoy his next actions, for it is only his duty to keep the Princess safe and protected from those who wish to do her harm. He assures himself that the Seven will grant him forgiveness, for he is only acting as any nobleman would. Finally, Gwayne assures himself that the Princess would forgive him for what he was about to do - soon she would understand that becoming his own spoil of war would keep her safe from other men of less valiant intentions. She would thank him sooner or later - she would, he reassures himself over and over again as he begins to lead the Princess over to his makeshift bed. He ignores the thought in the back of his mind telling him that even if she withheld her forgiveness, he wouldn’t mind too much - he would care much less than he should.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 5

The shiny black car waiting for them at the curb is far more modest than Kara expects. Sure, the inside has a crystal decanter of something in the side console, but the outside at least is non-descript, almost subtle if not for its meticulously shined exterior.

Lena had thrown her hood up over her hair and placed oversized dark sunglasses on her nose when they exited the building, but they come off again as soon as the door shuts, enclosing them in the suddenly intimate space of the cab.

"So. Where to?" Lena asks.

"I thought you asked me on this date."

Lena's eyebrows rocket skyward, and Kara kicks herself at the slip. This isn't a date. But Lena responds before Kara can try to take it back.

"I don't get out much," comes Lena's blithe response. "And I'm technically a tourist, so. I figured a local like you would know the best joints in town."

Lena's smile is infectious, quickly pulling one to Kara's lips in turn. Kara thinks as the car pulls away from the curb, then leans forward to address the driver. "Can you take a left at the light and keep going until we hit 8th?"

The driver nods, and Kara sets herself to rummaging in her purse for her pen and something to write on. She finds the pen, but nothing so much as a receipt avails itself. With a huff of frustration, Kara thrusts first the pen, then her hand towards Lena.

"Write down your coffee order."

When Lena's lips turn down into a small frown, she continues.

"Noonan's is the best in National City, but the drawback is that everyone and their mother knows it. It's going to be packed. It'll be faster if I go in and order, and we take it elsewhere."

"Where?" Even as she asks, Lena takes the offered pen and starts to write on Kara's hand. Kara pretends that the touch of Lena's fingers on hers doesn't lift goosebumps to her skin.

"Maybe the park? It's nice out."

Lena smiles softly. "It is," she agrees. She caps the pen, but doesn't release Kara's hand. She instead dips her chin as though to kiss Kara's palm. Kara jumps when a stream of cool breath tickles her skin, drying the ink of Lena's order.

From the cheshire grin that flashes up at her, Lena knows exactly what she's doing.

"Sounds like a plan."

-‐-

The park is nice. The sun is warm on Kara's skin, though a breeze keeps it comfortable. And though its a little more crowded than Kara expected, Lena steps out of the car gamely. Up goes the hood, and on go the sunglasses.

It's not the best of disguises, Kara observes-- anyone would be able to spot that jawline from a mile away. But Lena seems to have made her choice as she retrieves her drink from the tray in Kara's hands. She also fishes a sticky bun from the paper bag Kara also holds.

"Oh my god," Lena moans as soon as the first bite hits her tongue. "This is amazing."

"You asked for the best," Kara reminds her with a hint of pride.

Lena hums again as she chews. "And by god did you deliver. Jeezus!"

Kara nibbles at her own treat, trying her best not to stare as the younger woman made short work of the sticky bun... and finished off by licking the sugary syrup left on her fingertips.

Catching her not-staring, Lena cocks another smile. "What?"

"What are we doing?"

Kara sets her bun down on the pastry bag on her lap, fidgeting in her seat. "I mean," she tries again. "Why me?"

Green eyes gaze at her, warm and engaged as Lena regards her. "Why not you?"

"I--" Kara stutters, suddenly unable to quantify her feelings of inadequacy. Her age is the first to spring to mind, but saying as much feels unnecessary-- Lena can perceive her age as well as anyone else, and clearly it hasn't deterred her.

What else could Kara say? That she's just an average private citizen, while Lena is the object of adoration for millions of people around the world?

That Kara feels like a nobody?

Or at least she did, until Lena started looking at her like *that*.

"You compel me."

Lena's voice is quiet, soft in the afternoon sun. Kara stares at her.

"Compel you? To do what?"

"To get to know you better," Lena replies. Her features smooth into an almost solemn expression. "When you stumbled in my dressing room last night, it was kind of refreshing, I guess."

Kara scoffs. "A random stranger tumbling into the room was refreshing?"

"No, that part was just surprising," Lena chuckles. Then her features soften. "But even after that... you didn't want anything from me."

Blinking in surprise, Kara's mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Lena shrugs, her smile thinning a little.

"I love what I do and who I am, but... everyone wants something. My time, a picture, an autograph. An experience. You didn't."

Kara stares, still speechless. She hadn't given any thought to how she'd behaved that night. She'd just been frustrated and maybe a little mortified, and eager to get back to Esme. But from Lena's point of view she seemed almost... special.

"That," Lena continues, brightening once more, "and you're super hot."

Nearly choking on her own tongue, Kara coughs roughly in surprise before glaring at Lena.

"What?" the younger woman asks puckishly. "Is it truly that shocking? You've got mirrors, don't you?"

Kara takes a swig of her coffee to soothe her throat before responding. "That's not the word I usually hear."

"Oh?"

"More like... intimidating. Or tired. I get that one from my sister a lot."

Lena snorts. "Cowards the lot of them, then. Well, except for your sister. But rest are clearly too pussy to tell it like it is."

"Which would make you...?"

"Not chicken shit."

"Bold," Kara corrects her, but her tone lacks any real bite. It only makes Lena grin wider, which in turn sparks a smile of Kara's own.

Thankfully for Kara's fluttering heartbeat, Lena eases into a new topic. "So.... a sister, huh?"

Kara nods. "Esme's mom."

"Is it fun being the cool aunt?"

With a sigh, Kara shrugs. "Haven't had much time to be any kind of aunt, let alone a cool one."

"Well, you did take her to a super awesome show," Lena teases, tilting her head playfully.

"I did," Kara admits, but doesn't mention that it had been months since she'd last seen Esme prior. "But I got lucky that the performer was super nice about a whole lot of things."

A laugh answers her. "Happy to be of service."

A quiet moment passes between them. Soon, though, Kara realizes that Lena's features have turned pensive. She nudges the younger woman gently.

"What's on your mind?"

Lena blinks. "Oh. Um, I guess... I was thinking about my brother."

"I didn't know you had one," Kara says.

Okay, so mayyybe she had googled a little while waiting for Esme's phone to be delivered. She'd seen a bit of Lena's backstory-- signed to a label at age thirteen, managed by her mother, father passed when she was seven... but nothing about a brother.

Lena lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Half brother. Kind of."

Kara waits, giving Lena room to continue if she wanted to. After a moment, she does.

"I guess I kind of caught the performing bug from him. He was in a band before I could even walk. He even taught me how to play the piano. Our mom even managed them at one one point, but when she decided I had potential, she couldn't manage us both. So, she chose."

She chose Lena. To Kara, it makes perfect sense. Having seen her on stage, the joy and the skill and now the sheer presence of Lena... of course anyone would drop everything to be what she needed.

But she can only imagine how it would feel to be the person left behind.

"He left the day I signed with my first label. I tried for years to get in touch with him, and still try on his birthday, but... I've never heard from." Lena sighs, eyes flicking self-consciously towards Kara. "For all I know, I could be an aunt myself by now."

She sniffs, quickly scrubbing the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand. "Jeez. I didn't mean to get so serious on a first date."

Kara can't bring herself to counter the claim of a first date. Whether Lena means it playfully or genuinely, something about Lena's eyes still sparkling with unshed tears makes her wholly unassailable.

Before either of them can say anything more, Kara's phone rings in her purse, and Lena's chimes in a half a moment later. They both tense, then dissolve into giggles, the somber mood ruined by the return of real life.

"I should get back to the office," Kara says. A glance at her phone screen, she confirms that it's Eve calling, no doubt frantic with another call from Mrs. Jasper.

Lena sighs. "Yeah. My mom is probably apoplectic. I was supposed to be at a meeting an hour ago."

Kara starts. "What?! Lena..."

"What're they gonna do, fire me?" Lena drawls. Even so, she rises and offers a hand up to Kara. Kara takes it, and doesn't protest when Lena keeps hold of it on the way back to the car. "Besides, it was worth it."

"For the sticky bun?"

"That too."

At the curb of Kara's office, Lena finally passes over Esme's phone. When Kara reaches to take it, Lena leans in and presses her lips to Kara's cheek.

Too stunned to move, or even speak, Kara hears Lena's murmur right down to her bones.

"Have dinner with me."

Kara blinks. "When?"

Not no? Not what the fuck? When.

"Why not tonight?" Lena retreats just enough to meet Kara's gaze, searching. "Tell me you don't feel this too."

Oh, Kara feels it. Low in her belly, hungry and desperate and *scared*.

"Lena..."

"Give us tonight," Lena continues, a touch breathless. "I fly out in the morning. You won't have to see me again. If you don't want to."

Kara gears up to refuse it all. The supposition, the unmistakeable desire. But in the end, her shoulders slump.

"I don't think not-wanting will be the problem."

Lena beams. "So yes?"

Kara exhales slowly. She nods. "Yes."

She hears Lena's breath catch, before Lena settles back in her seat. "Text me your address? I can send a car."

"That's not necessary..." Kara trails off when Lena grimaces to the contrary.

"It'll be easier," she says. "Trust me."

Kara nods. "Okay."

"Dress code is fancy." Lena winks. "Whatever that means to you."

Kara huffs a soft laugh. "That's helpful." Then, "I look forward to it."

To her surprise, a faint blush climbs up Lena's neck, settling in her cheeks.

"Me too."