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theharddeck · 4 months

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start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!)

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep.

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport.

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed.

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts.

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun.

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on.

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died.

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least.

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again.

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations).

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower.

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped.

You waited.

He didn’t move.

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely.

“Are you cold?”

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake.

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered.

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault.

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something.

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life.

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched.

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt.

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you.

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same.

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends.

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction.

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly.

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer.

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them.

“Why?” you asked.

Again, that quiet chuckle.

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly.

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow.

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man.

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation.

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm.

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there.

In bed.

With you.

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces.

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said.

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again.

It distracted you for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering.

You tried to be still, you did.

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised.

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat.

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing.

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep.

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed.

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you.

“Can I…?” he trailed off.

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth.

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow.

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity.

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond.

Jake hummed.

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep.

You startled awake to the sound of guns.

Not guns, fireworks.

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten?

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly.

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking.

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any.

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said.

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid.

You took a long breath, starting to explain.

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination.

Just as quickly, he pulled back.

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was.

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that.

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again.

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly.

Of course he was a good kisser.

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you.

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline.

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed.

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you.

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting.

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck.

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced,

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face.

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger.

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin.

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted.

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing.

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs.

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him.

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg.

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that.

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again.

It shouldn’t be this hot.

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise.

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you.

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching.

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze.

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge.

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter.

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs.

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well.

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact.

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness.

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something.

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this.

“Right,” you said weakly.

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.

He kissed your thigh.

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught.

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming.

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch.

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different.

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless.

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you.

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned.

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice.

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion.

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set.

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair.

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again.

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you.

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more.

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers.

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded.

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow.

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening.

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words.

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body.

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again.

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter.

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming.

You weren’t cold anymore.

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter.

God damn, he was so hot.

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be.

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough.

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again.

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick.

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed.

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself.

He was so strong.

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you.

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct.

Fuck, he felt big.

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head.

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it.

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed.

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers.

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent.

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his.

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out.

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back.

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours.

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance.

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth.

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him.

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him.

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair.

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication.

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too.

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege.

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly.

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too.

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down.

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that.

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs.

You’d had two orgasms.

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him.

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it.

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward.

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do.

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you.

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed.

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe.

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit.

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you.

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you.

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound.

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal.

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it.

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it.

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding.

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting.

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come.

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you.

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go.

You were just as boneless.

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin smut #misskielwrites

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yuikomorii · 1 month

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Happy Birthday, Ayato! ❤️

// Today is the golden boy’s birthday!! Sweet and spicy visual god, you are the reason of my unattainablly high standards… and also of my questionable financial decisions, lol.

This looks more like an Ayayui shrine than an individual Ayato one, but I couldn’t fit all the items in one pic, therefore I chose the ones that were the easiest to find in my room. :”)

Nevertheless… I did try to prepare a SCENARIO too! I used my nsfw edit as the cg, although I didn’t show everything. The romantic part is really cheesy and cringe, but if you’re into fluff, you will like that. 💕💕

~Operation: Ayato-kun’s birthday~

Yui: ( Haa… it feels as if there’s no ending to these anymore… )

( I woke up earlier today, hoping to finish all these exercises, yet I really can’t bring myself to understand how to solve them at all…! )

( My mind is completely in a whole different place right now. Today is Ayato-kun’s birthday after all. )

( Unfortunately, all the assignments kept me so busy this week that I wasn’t even able to bake a cake for him… )

( However, it’s still not too late for that, right? )

( Once I’m done with this page, I will definitely try my best to prepare it as soon as po—)

Reiji: Komori Yui, are you slacking again?

Yui: …!

R-Reiji-san!

( Oh no, he picked up my notebook! )

Reiji: Good grief, there are mistakes everywhere! Do I need to remind you that you are not permitted to bring disgrace upon the Sakamaki family as long as you reside under this mansion's roof?

Yui: Uuh… I-I’m really sorry, Reiji-san. I promise I’ll—

Reiji: Silence. I recently received your report card as well, and I must admit that I’m not pleased with your performance in the slightest. I was expecting such indifference from my brothers, but it’s rather disheartening for a human girl not to care about her education.

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s not like I don’t care about school, but… simply put, the teachers have been giving us much too many tasks lately, and I find them quite difficult to solve, which stresses me out a little, to be honest.

Reiji: Hmph, excuses. I find it incomprehensible how such simple exercises cause you mental difficulties.

Nevertheless, I shall teach you then. Even if it requires the whole day to achieve that.

Yui: You will? Woah, thank you so much, Re— W-Wait, no! We can’t do that today!

Reiji: Pardon? Are you rejecting my offer to tutor you?

Yui: No, no! Not at all! It’s just that today is Ayato-kun’s birthday, and well… I would obviously want to celebrate it with him.

Reiji: Denied.

Yui: Eh—?

Reiji: You truly are a fool. Vampires show no interest in the day of their birth. Now, take a sit.

Yui: …

( I know Reiji-san is not in the wrong, but… I really do want to celebrate Ayato-kun’s birthday. That day may not be special to him but it’s so special to me. )

( Am I being selfish, I wonder…? )

*Timeskip*

Reiji: It appears that you’re finally able to understand how to solve this exercise. The next ones are similar to it, therefore there shouldn’t be any obstacles.

Yui: Yes, I see…

( I appreciate Reiji-san’s help, yet too many hours have passed by and baking a cake from scratch is not possible anymore… )

Place: Living room

Yui: ( Hmm… apparently I still have enough pocket money to buy a cake. I know a self-made one would have been more meaningful, but I really couldn’t… )

Kanato: Yui-san, are you spacing out?

Yui: Eh—? Ah, Kanato-kun, I didn’t see you there. I’m fine, but I’m a bit in a hurry, so… see y— Kya!

( He grabbed my wrist! )

Kanato: You’re going to buy a cake for my brother, aren’t you?

Yui: Uhh… well yes, I mean, it’s his birthday after all.

Kanato: My birthday was yesterday and I didn’t see you get any cake for me, nor for Laito. Teddy thinks you forgot about us. Tell me, Yui-san, is that true?

Yui: T-that’s not it!

Kanato: So you’re going to buy a cake for me as well after all? I might forgive you if you do that.

Yui: ( What did I get myself into…! I’m sure Kanato-kun will throw a tantrum if I say “no”. )

But… I don’t think I got enough money for two cakes.

Kanato: Please don’t worry about that, Yui-san, I know my ways. Or what, are you doubting me now?

Yui: …!

— shakes head —

Kanato: Good, now let’s go.

Place: Demon World Cake shop

Yui: Woah, I’ve never seen such big cakes before!

Kanato: Please don’t shout. Your looks already make you resemble a servant, you don’t have to act like one as well.

Yui: ( Hey, that’s mean! )

Cake shop owner: Welcome, how can I help you?

Yui: We’re searching for a birthday cake, but uhm… one a bit smaller than the ones displayed here, if possible.

Cake shop owner: Any flavor you got in mind?

Yui: ( Speaking of flavor, I don’t think Ayato-kun has ever told me anything about his favorite. He would probably say Takoyaki but a Takoyaki cake… that doesn’t feel right. )

I think he likes straw—

Kanato: Raspberry!

Cake shop owner: Wonderful! We just finished a raspberry cake a few minutes ago!

— brings cake —

Yui: ( It truly looks delicious…! Besides, it’s red as well, which is Ayato-kun’s favorite color, so I believe he would truly like this one! )

Kanato: Alright, we’ll take it!

Place: Mansion

Yui: Phew, I’m glad the cake didn’t get crushed on the way.

Kanato: It’s time to eat!

Yui: Wha—! No, Kanato-kun, you can’t!

Kanato: Excuse me, but who do you think you are? This is my cake, therefore I’m allowed to eat it whenever I want!

Yui: W-Well, don’t you want to wait for Ayato-kun too? This way, you two will be able to eat it together like bro—!!

(He pushed me in the cake!?)

Kanato-kun, why did you do this!?

Kanato: You ruined the cake!

Yui: Me!? But Kanato-kun was the one who pushed me there!

Kanato: Teddy says you’re annoying, and I agree. Now how will you fix your mistakes?

Yui: ( I can barely see anything…! )

Kanato: Fufu, look at her Teddy! She’s full of cake from head to toe! Now, let’s give it a taste che—

Yui: You can’t!

— moves cake away from him —

Kanato: I can!

— moves cake back —

Yui: No!

— moves cake away —

Kanato: Hmph, just give up already, will you!?

— pushes her away —

Yui: Wait, no—!!!

???: Oi, what the—!

— cake falls on them —

Kanato: Noooo, the cake!!!! Ngh, this is no fun anymore!

Yui: Uuh… Why is the floor so soft…?

Ayato: ‘Cause it’s not the floor, you idiot.

Yui: Ah! A-Ayato-kun!

Uhh… Happy birthday…~?

Ayato: Geez, c’mere, you’re an even bigger mess.

— picks her up —

Place: Bathroom

Yui: ( This is so embarrassing…! )

Ayato: Haa… You’re finally not covered in cake anymore.

Yui: I… I’m sorry…

Ayato: Huh? What are you apologizing for? I’m not mad that you dropped that cake on me.

Yui: That’s not the only thing I’m sorry about…

If it weren’t for my carelessness, you would have gotten a nice birthday, but now… you don’t even have a cake anymore.

( Ah, I’m feeling as if I’m about to cry right now… )

Ayato: Hey, c’mon that’s not worth the tears. I’m a vampire, remember? I don’t care about my birthday, so there’s no need to worry about such stuff.

Yui: Maybe you don’t care about it but… I do. I know that I’m about to sound selfish, but your birthday is very special to me. It represents the day you were born and I… I simply can’t imagine not celebrating it.

Ayato-kun is important to me, therefore that automatically makes his birthday important to me too.

Ayato: You klutz…

— hugs her —

Yui: W-Wha—! Ayato-kun…!

Ayato: Seriously, are all humans really that sentimental? Or does this only apply to cute girls like you?

Yui: …!

(He… he called me cute! )

— blushes —

Ayato: The day’s still not over, y’know? There’s still time to celebrate it if you’re really that obsessed with it.

Yui: …! So, are you really okay with that?

Ayato: Yeah? If I weren’t, I would have told you, idiot. On top of that, it’s not like I got anything better to do anyway.

Now tell me, Chichinashi, what exactly do you have in store for today?

Yui: Hm… uhm… nothing comes to my mind at the moment, but for now… I can’t say I mind spending time like this with Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Heh~? You suddenly don’t mind being in my arms while naked?

Yui: P-Phrasing it like that…!

Ayato: Well, if that’s the case, then… you wouldn’t mind if I sucked your blood either, right?

Yui: Go ahead.

Ayato: Hah? No talking back? Are you really that easy to convince today? Or, could it be that you finally admit enjoying the pleasure these fangs give you?

Yui: It’s not only about your fangs, Ayato-kun. I really like you as a whole.

I wasn’t even able to find a gift for you, therefore giving you my blood is the least I can do.

Ayato: Heh, I see… I don’t need your blood as a gift though.

Yui: You don’t…?

Ayato: Nope, ‘cause I already got the best gift ever.

Yui: Is that so?

( Did someone already give him something for his birthday? If that’s the case, then who could it be? )

( Ah… I guess I’m just overthinking, but now I’m really curious. )

Ayato: You really wanna know, don’t you? It’s already written on your face.

Are you getting jealous~?

Yui: T-That’s…—!

Ayato: Pfft, you really did get jealous, huh?

Yui: ( Ugh… he’s making fun of me now! )

Ayato: Anyway, there’s no need to. After all, the best gift I’ve ever gotten…

It’s you, Yui.

— Smooch —

The end

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #sakamaki ayato #Yui komori #komori yui #dialovers #admin #my edit #(I hope I wrote Reiji and Kanato well)#(they were fun to write at least)

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louiewrites · 1 month

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synopsis; Mr. Harrington is married. You know that. You just cant help yourself.

warnings; slapping, degration, creampie, aftercare, steve is mean, adultery, fingering, unprotected sex.

a/n; wrote this in like an hr forgive me. feedback appreciated. <3

The sounds that left your lips were downright sinful. It was all sinful truly; you knew he had a wife. It was common knowledge that Mr. Harrington had a wife, but that only encouraged you further.

Once his lips touched yours, every thought of his family left both of your minds. Once your hands touched his skin, all sense of morality escaped your bodies.

Steve’s hand was around your throat, thumbs pressing deliciously into your soft skin as he kissed you deeply. His fingers were knuckle deep into your sopping cunt and thrusting with vigor, and you couldn’t stop the constricted whines that escaped you.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve’s voice was teasing, demeaning, almost. It made your head spin. “Yes, yes, sir.” You sounded so desperate as your hand reached down to his wrist, doing whatever you could to just keep his hands right there. You clenched your eyes tight, your mouth slacked open as you chased your release.

Warm, wet lips kissed your cheek. “So beautiful, baby.” The words made your walls flutter around his fingers, a whimper escaping you. Your back arched as your fingernails dug into his wrist, your pussy steadily convulsing around his fingers.

Suddenly he let go of your neck, and his fingers came to a halt. A choked sound left you as your eyes snapped open, only to be met with Steve’s face, red cheeks, and his eyebrow raised.

Slap!

Your cheek received a harsh slap, and tears began to gather in your eyes. Steve’s hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to him. “Do you know what I risk doing this with you? Or are you too much of a slut to know that? Hm? Who’s pussy is this?” He landed a slap onto your cunt, your legs instinctively trying to close on him.

“Yours, sir! All yours, please, I’m all yours!” The words came out in a rambled, choked sob. “I like the sound of that. All mine.” He was unbuckling his jeans quickly, pushing them and his briefs down to the floor. He pulled his shirt off as well, while you squirmed and sniffled on your spot in the bed.

Seeing his cock, red and leaking, had your mouth watering. Steve’s hair brushed against your cheek as he crawled up to you, slotting perfectly between your thighs and leaning down to your ear. “You’re mine, honey. All mine, understand?” His hand guided his cock to your entrance, and he sank into you once he finished his sentence. You nodded, hands coming up to his shoulders, fingernails digging into the pale skin. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his cheeks as a means to make him go faster.

His firm arms held him up as he let out a groan, your cunt being absolute heaven to him. The sounds you made were music to his ears, and he’d give everything to hear them all the time. Every moan, whine, and whimper you let out was embedded in his mind like a life lesson.

“Sir, please, move.” At the sound of your voice, he sat up on his knees, gripping your ankles and pushing them as close to you as they would go, bending you in half. His wedding band dug into your skin, reminding you instantly of what you were doing. But you didn’t care. “So fucking greedy.” Finally, his hips moved back, quickly snapping forward, his skin hitting yours with a delicious sting. Your eyes rolled back, hands gripping his arms.

Steve showed no mercy as he started thrusting into you like his life depended on it, sweat starting to trickle down his forehead. The sweat made his hair stick to his skin, the sight alone enough to fuel a wet dream. “So good, sir, so good.” your words were almost incomprehensible, but Steve understood. He always did.

With every thrust he delivered, you could feel your release getting closer and closer. “Gonna cum so soon, baby? Embarrassing.” He seethed, his right hand traveling up to your jaw once again, gripping it in his hand. “Nuh uh, look at me.” Your eyes opened, staring into his as your toes curled from pleasure, obscenity’s spilling from your mouth.

Tears were still continuously trailing down your warm cheeks, your eyes staring into his as your release crashed down on you, your cunt clenching around him and your legs trembling. He broke eye contact this time, a guttural groan of your name leaving his mouth, before he leaned over you on his elbows. Soft lips crashed against yours and he thrusted one, two, three, more times before he stilled, cumming inside of you.

The kiss swallowed up every moan that came from either of you. It was beautiful, truly. Once he pulled away from the kiss for air, finally getting a good look at him. His lips were red and slick with spit, his hair was damp with sweat, and his eyes held nothing but love. Your hands got lost in his hair, scratching his scalp as he regained his normal breathing. His body dropped into yours, nuzzling his head into your warm, sweaty skin as he basked in the feeling of euphoria.

Eventually, he pulled out of you, grinning at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt. “Lemme clean you up.” He hauled himself to the bathroom, taking some time to clean himself up, and then he walked back into the room, a wet washcloth in hand. Your body was laid out, just how he left you, but you were breathing shallowly, nearly overcome by sleep.

Steve couldn’t help but get butterflies. You were stunning. He cleaned you up before slipping a shirt from your closet over your head, then he gently tucked you in. He put his clothes back on before turning to look at you one last time. “Sweet dreams. I love you, sweetheart.”

You knew he had a family to get home to. You knew the consequences of this. A part of you hurt, wished he could be yours only. But in moments like this, you especially longed for him. Moments when you were half asleep while he tucked you in, while he told you he loved you. You were reduced to a title you hated in these moments.

The other woman. That’s all you would ever be.

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yunarim · 1 year

Text

── ⋅⋅⋅ I'll show you little by little every day, I'll be a little closer tomorrow ♡

he discovers you sleeping and covers you with a blanket, but you assume it was someone else!

♡ characters : third-years ♡ tags : gn reader, fluff ♡ song to listen to : joy (red velvet) - day by day

─ ⊹ Cater Diamond ♡₊

Cater found you sleeping under the tree, apparently you were tired from helping him painting roses for the upcoming unbirthday party.

Actually he had no problem at all, given he was managing the task all by himself, but you were so cute, asking him whether you could be of help.

His heart melted when your expression turned softer than it was when he covered you with a blanket.

Next day you’ve visited Heartslabyul once again, and Cater noticed you having fun with your first-year friends and convincing Riddle you weren’t causing any trouble.

You waved to him, your smile incredibly cheerful and beautiful as always.

“Yo, Prefect~ How’s your mood today?”

“I’m okay, thanks for asking! I thought I’d catch a cold, but I’m fine thanks to Riddle!”

He blinked once. Then twice.

Uhm say what again? You haven't seen Riddle for a week for sure, just how would he help you-

Riddle turned to you two, hearing your sudden statement.

“How come?” dorm leader asked you, an undisguised incomprehension on his face.

“Oh?..” you frowned. “You covered me with a blanket yesterday!”

Cater laughed nervously, rubbing his temple with his finger and pointed at himself.

“Ngl I feel kinda friendzoned, but actually it was me~”

You can almost physically feel how his heart shuttered for a moment, but you’re quick to apologize.

“I’m so sorry, I genuinely thought…” you muttered, frowning. “Aw, Prefect, no need to be sorry! It was a misunderstanding, right? Let’s go grab something to drink!”

He took your hand in his, making you follow him into the Heartslabyul hall, but you tugged on his sleeve, causing him to stop for a moment. He observed how cutely you pouted.

“You’re actually upset, am I right? And that ‘friendzone’ you’ve mentioned, too…”

“Ouch, caught red-handed, haha. No worries, it’s oka-”

You interrupt him with a gentle hug, not even slightly noticing his subtle breath hitching, his phone almost dropping from his grip. He was upset, truly, but with a sweet smile he swat all that irrelevant thoughts away, patting your head and pulling you a little bit closer.

─ ⊹ Trey Clover ♡₊

Discovered you sleeping in the auditorium when he was passing by.

Apparently, you were tired with managing ADeuce and Grim antics, and Trey knew how much energy you always put in your responsibilities.

“Oh, what do I do with you…” he bent over the desk you were sleeping at and fixed the lock of your hair, smiling softly at you.

He then brought you a blanket from home science class and covered you with it, slight pink dust covering his cheeks at the sight of you sleeping so peacefully.

Next day he spotted you talking to professor Crewel and approached you just when you'd finished talking.

“Good morning, Prefect. Where are you going?”

“Morning, Trey!” you greeted him with a smile. “Professor Crewel asked me to bring some books from the library.”

“Care to walk together? I was about to head to the library too.”

“Sure, let’s go!

After you’ve gathered all the things you needed, you two headed back, but took another route, by taking which you stumbled on the auditorium where you’ve fallen asleep yesterday, and you noticed how the blanket someone covered you with yesterday was still laying folded on the desk.

“Oh, wait a second, I’ll grab that blanket, I need to return it to Deuce.”

Trey furrowed his brows, taking a closer look at the blanket you’ve collected.

No doubt, it was that one blanket he covered you with yesterday.

He felt how the disappointment filled his heart, making him sound a little bit prejudiced.

“Deuce? Why?”

“Oh, he covered me with this blanket yesterday! I fell asleep while waiting for him, he was writing an explanatory letter of sorts…”

“Hm, was it really him?”

You turned to him, noticing his face expression and how visibly disappointed he was. A hint of blush covered your cheeks and you laughed out of embarrassment.

“Actually I thought Deuce was out of character for a moment, but I couldn’t even imagine it was you… Thank you!” Your beaming smile caused Trey to frown but smile with a loving gaze in response, and the next second you handed the blanket to him, he accepted it, covering your hands with his and lingered his gaze on your eyes for a little longer than just a friend would.

“Next time I’ll make sure you know it was me.”

─ ⊹ Leona Kingscholar ♡₊

Oi, herbivore… Just how reckless of you to fall asleep on his territory completely uncovered?

You are so defenseless, sleeping in the botanical garden like that.

Maybe if Ruggie found him looking at you way longer than it considered normal, he would claim Leona’s gone insane out of love.

Seriously, herbivore, do you just have to be so stupidly angelic?

Good thing it was he who discovered you sleeping on the grass and enjoying a warm, somnolent atmosphere lingered in the garden.

Took the blanket Ruggie advised him to use to sleep on sometimes after other students watered flowers and the ground was still moist.

He hesitated for a mere second, appreciating the way you smiled through your sleep at how gentle the sun rays were piercing through the greenhouse glass.

Covered you with a blanket and couldn’t resist the urge to caress your cheek, to which you reacted pretty much funny.

You leaned to him, murmuring something incoherent, and Leona cleared his throat just to avoid embarrassment in case Ruggie comes in.

Sevens, do you just need to be so vulnerable in front of him?

Next day it was you who found him lying on the grass as you were watering flowers.

“Good afternoon!” You greeted him, lifting the watering can just enough to not pour a few drops on Leona. “Oh, actually, I have a question to ask.”

“No asking how was my day, hm? When did you become so cold toward me, herbivore?”

“Hm, you’re the one to talk!” You hummed. “Anyway, do you know where Ruggie is?”

“What on earth do you need from him?”

“He covered me with a blanket when I fell asleep here. I thought it would be nice if I could give him something in return for being nice to me.”

“Sevens, herbivore, really? Him?”

You put the watering can on the ground and squatted down, moving closer to Leona and pouting.

“What’s wrong!” You exclaimed and let out a little squeak when Leona pulled you closer to him, making you lay down beside him, his tail resting on your leg and flapping on it. “H-hey-”

“Never gonna cover you with a blanket again if you can’t recognize who it was, herbivore.”

You blushed and looked straight at him, noticing his grin at your sudden realization. You averted your gaze, curving up corners of your lips and giggled.

Maybe he’ll reconsider his decision depending on whether you lean to him a little closer or not.

─ ⊹ Vil Schoenheit ♡₊

You and Rook were helping Vil with his club activities, which acquired carrying out things here and there mostly.

By the time you’ve finished you headed out to the staff room to pick up your belongings and then return to Ramshackle.

Actually, the armchair in the dressing room covered with some clothes turned out to be so alluringly comfortable and cozy that you couldn’t resist and decided to take a breath.

It was nearly 10 pm when Vil realized he forgot something in the staff room and discovered you, lying in clothes and things like a little kid surrounded by plushies.

Seriously, potato, only you could look so incredibly cute in such a mess.

He picked you up in his arms, carried you to the sofa and covered you with a blanket.

He couldn’t afford carrying you to Ramshackle in such a state, so he made sure there was a glass of water standing on the table and skin care products made by him were there too, so you could use those when you wake up.

Next day you came to Pomefiore accompanied by Epel, who was discussing yesterday’s events with you.

“I wonder who it was…” you pressed a finger to your lips, sinking deeper into your thoughts.

“So it’s whether Rook or Vil,” Epel said.

Neither you nor Epel noticed how Vil was approaching you two from behind and deciding to walk a little slower after hearing his name. He had no intention of eavesdropping, but a sudden curiosity hit him.

No way you would be that dense to not to guess that it was him who took care of you-

“Knowing Vil’s strict schedule I bet it was Rook!” you exclaimed, leaving Vil completely dumbfounded. “I mean, I fell asleep around 10 pm, I assume it was too late for Vil to be out of his room…”

“Never knew you have a habit of speaking nonsense, potato.”

You turned to him, surprised by his sudden appearance. Epel was fast to storm out of the hall, leaving you two all alone. “I’m sorry for talking behind your back…”

“Potato, never avert your gaze like that from me. Head straight, chin up. Yes, like that.” Vil grinned at how fast you were to do as he said, so he put his hands on your shoulders, encouraging you to relax a little and not be so tense. He leaned closer, noticing how you completely ignore skin care products he left just for you and sighed.

“Potato, come here. I’ll do your makeup today, but under one condition.”

“O-oh, yes?..” You stuttered, your cheeks growing warm with every second.

“Sleep in your room next time.”

─ ⊹ Rook Hunt ♡₊

Just how marvelous you are, little trickster!

He discovered you reading a book under the tree in the area which wasn’t really popular among students due to its emptiness, but you found it calming and peaceful to recollect your thoughts and to relax a little.

He was observing college territory as he usually was at that time, starting in the afternoon and taking one last stroll when a dahlia-copper sunset descended on the campus, coloring it into sweet orange shades.

You appeared as you dropped the book on your knees, your head was leaning against a tree trunk, shadows of variously shaped leaves formed a delicate pattern on your face, and through them warm, ardent red sunset rays glided over your skin.

Rook landed from the tree near you silently, as if he was a nimble cat.

Your gentle features cupped with sunset rays made his heart skip a beat, and he appreciated how vulnerably you looked.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, pulling a blanket out of his bag and covering you with it, making sure you’re comfortable enough to not to hurt your neck in this position.

Next day you were talking to Grim, discussing yesterday’s occurrence and taking a guess on whoever covered you with a blanket.

“You stupid henchman, sure thing it was Vil!”

“Why do you think so?” You genuinely asked, trying to sound reasonable. “Well, I know I fell asleep near Pomefiore, but… maybe it was Epel.”

“Mnyah?!” Grim jolted in your hands. “Jeez, how stupid you are! Why’d he do it for ya?”

“Maybe because I saved his ass that time he was trying to escape Vil’s extra classes?”

“Or maybe it was my beloved little trickster’s ange gardien?”

You jumped on the spot, Grim somehow predicting this kind of situation and escaping your hands, landing on the grass near you. You turned to see Rook smiling gently at you and offering you a gloved hand. You were too startled to figure out what was the meaning of that, but took the hand nevertheless. He pressed a small kiss on your knuckles, looking straight at you and grinning through the little kiss, the feeling of his lips still lingering on your skin.

─ ⊹ Idia Shroud ♡₊

He swears, the one time he actually has to attend classes in person turns out to be the one he also has to be paired with you.

There’s nothing wrong with you, but it’s about him. He’s too nervous to even look at what you’re handing out to him during a potionology class.

So he proceeds to quickly add the potion you’ve handed out and mix it with something boiling in the cauldron.

“I-idia!!” You exclaim, finally managing to make him at least glance at you. “I asked if this was the right thing or not!”

“W-wha?! Wait, what did you give me just now?!”

“H-here!” You gave him an empty bottle and he looked at the tag attached to it, facepalming himself.

“Shit, wrong one…”

“And that means?.. Ah… Oh…”

“Hey, what’s with y-you?..”

You felt a sudden dizziness after inhaling the fumes of the potion, and suddenly collapsed on the floor, snoring heavily. Professor Crewel sighed tiredly and demanded Idia to take you to the infirmary, since the brew you prepared did not pose any threat to life.

That's what he was thinking about!! Carrying you through the halls when the infirmary was in another wing?!

Hell no he wasn’t going to do that-

He thought twice after receiving a heavy discerning Crewel's gaze and hearing him almost yell to get himself together and take you to the infirmary already.

He almost dropped you on the bed and realized there was no nurse around.

Shit, today was his worst day in his whole lifetime.

He covered you with a blanket and stormed out of the room, leaving a small note with a quick summary of what happened in case the nurse came back.

A few hours after sleeping you got up and was quick to inform Idia you were fine as the only thing you remember was Idia’s face full of horror and worry before you've fainted.

“Can’t imagine professor Crewel covered me with a blanket tho”

“HUH?!”

You almost dropped your phone because of the amount of messages filled with furious emojis. Why was Idia reacting this way…

“Bro, you good?” You typed.

“As if. He made me carry you to the infirmary and discover there was no one aside from us just for you to assume it was him who took care of you?”

Good thing you couldn’t stutter through the text. The sudden realization at how sweet Idia was, covering you with a blanket and making sure you’re not alone at least for some time… With a sweet childlike smile plastered on your face you typed an answer.

“Thank you ♡”

─ ⊹ Malleus Draconia ♡₊

The nights at Ramshackle garden are always chilly.

You noticed it right when you and Malleus took your usual stroll, discussing sweet nothings.

He was enchanted to just hear you speak, your little stories always filling him with a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

He felt an inexplicable warmth in his chest, as if he was feverish just from how charmingly your lips moved when you told how you enjoyed appreciating nature in your world.

He could feel his heart beating rapidly, pumping blood through his vessels and forcing him to feel his cheeks growing warm when you said you are glad to spend time with him, walking in the garden like that.

Yes, that was the first night you thought it was chilly, despite Malleus unable to control how warm he was feeling beside you.

Your gaze filled with genuine love and care lingered on him when he was telling you something about himself, not limited by anything or someone else's prejudiced attitude towards him.

It was just you, shivering a little and enjoying his somnolent deep voice, lulling you to sleep.

Malleus smiled at you, your head suddenly on his shoulder.

He scooped you up in his arms, gently pulling you closer, and carried you to the Ramshackle, covering you with a blanket and caressing your cheek before dissolving into flashes of green.

Next evening you spotted neon green sparkles and greeted Malleus, him appearing beside you.

“Hello,” you smiled. “Thank you for making sure ghosts took me over to Ramshackle yesterday! I didn’t know they’re strong enough to carry a human body.”

“Child of man…”

“Yes?” You turned to him, noticing his pout and approached him. “Why are you upset, Tsunotarou? Did I do something wrong?..”

“Nothing beside mistaken my guilelessness towards you for ghosts’ sincerity. “

“Oh…” You smiled gently at him, fearlessly pulling him towards you and embracing him, meeting his absolutely lovesick gaze and feeling sudden warmth spreading in your chest. “Would you find this hug sufficient to make this up?”

“Maybe a little bit longer, if you will, child of man.”

With that you buried your face in his chest, enjoying how right and pertinent you were feeling in his arms, smiling to yourself and wishing this night to never end.

─ ⊹ Lilia Vanrouge ♡₊

You were always an honored guest at Light Music Club’s gatherings.

Lilia would often find you studying at the library and float midair in front of you, chuckling and inviting you over to the music room.

So you did just that for once. Then twice. Starting from twice you’ve realized you’re always finding your ways at the music room, your beloved trio ready to spoil you with sweets and juicy stories.

Today was so fun and exciting, the boys demonstrated their new song to you, suggesting you to be their main vocalist and you giggling at the thought.

Today’s playlist they performed was quite nice and peaceful to that extent you found yourself relaxing and falling asleep quickly.

Kalim was giggling and trying to not to wake you up while Cater was quick to tweet about you enjoying ballads so much you ended up asleep.

Lilia looked at you with pure adoration plastered on his face, his fingers caressing your cheeks and fixing your hair gently.

Kalim almost squeaked at how lovely you two were.

Lilia found a cute blanket Kalim once brought here and asked him whether he could use it and after receiving approval he covered you with a blanket.

Needless to say Lilia was a man who was bad at resisting temptation to kiss your forehead.

Next time you all met you took a bite of a cookie, a few crumbs fell into your lap, but you continued talking.

“By the way guys, who was the one who covered me with a blanket last week? I wanted to thank you!”

“Wanna do a poll on MagiCam?”

“Ah no no, let me just guess then… I bet it was Kalim!”

Just after you said that Lilia appeared in front of you, floating midair. It was hard to recognize what kind of expression he had in that state, but you assumed he was slightly dissatisfied with your answer.

“Think twice~”

He floated closer to you, finally noticing pinkish blush dusting your cheeks, his lips covering yours in a soft kiss. After pulling out he licked cookie crumbs from your check and gave a nod of approval, asking you once again.

“Made up your mind?”

♡ tag list : @isacoremeow

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #cater x reader #trey x reader #leona x reader #vil x reader #rook x reader #malleus x reader #lilia x reader #idia x reader

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aealzx · 9 months

Text

Fishing his cell phone from its pocket wedged under his shell, Raphael hit the speed dial for Mikey. The easiest way to check on him was just to call him after all. Especially since they had two additional bases now that he and Leo were taking turns manning for this rotation. That explained why Leo had been caught since the other three weren’t with him. But it didn’t explain why their alarms hadn’t been tripped. Unless Leo had been outside the base on patrol, like he sometimes did when he was restless.

Okay Mikey that’s five rings, pick up the phone-

“You’re speaking to the greatest turtle of all time, hero of the realms, Nexus Champion, Michael Angelo Spliterson.”

For once Mikey’s voice was a welcomed relief instead of a complete annoyance, and Raphael found himself smirking instead of wanting to throttle him. “I’m gonna beat you for that, bozo,” Raphael responded, more on reflex than an actual threat.

“Awww, but Raphy buddy, you’d actually have to win against me for once to do that,” Mikey shot back. Harmless banter at this point. Despite the hundreds of sparring matches they’d gotten into, Raphael still hadn’t managed to win against Mikey even once. But they had saved each other's lives often enough it no longer truly mattered.

“Well get over here then.”

“Uh, I’ll pass,” Mikey declined quickly. “Got the ole second base to watch over y’know. Can’t leave her on her own. What would Don say if I just abandon-”

“I mean it Mikey. Get over here, Leo’s been caught by Augustine,” Raphael interrupted, ton growing completely serious now.

“HUH-?!” Mikey’s outburst cracked over the speaker and made Raphael pull the phone away from his ear. “Whadda you-?? Start with that you-! I’ll be right there!”

The call ended with a beep before Raphael could give a retort, but he just sighed and lowered the phone to tap a different speed dial. They would need their usual backup for this one, and he also had some words to get out. Thankfully this time his call was answered on the second ring.

“Yo Raph, what’s up? Miss me that much?”

Casey. The one that had been with Leo on base sitting duty that night. “Say goodbye to your son, then get back to home base asap. I’m gonna kill you for losing my brother,” Raphael growled simply, then took his turn to end the call without a goodbye. It would be better to talk to both Mikey and Casey at the same time, in person.

Once both people were contacted Raphael slipped his phone back into its place and approached Don, raising a brow as he was mildly impressed once again by how fast his genius of a brother was manipulating his precious computer. Touch screens and a custom keyboard really sped up his process, as did state of the art equipment. Coming to stand at his shoulder, Raphael remained quiet, knowing Don would speak when he formulated his thoughts enough around what he’d found.

Sure enough, it was only minutes of watching screens flashing by incomprehensibly that Don started his report. “Interesting. I ran an analysis for interdimensional breeches, and there’s a significant outlier from the usual comings and goings of people like the Daimyo and the others we’re used to visiting.”

“So…….,” Raphael started, a request for Don to pause and let him catch up with his own thoughts. “Augustine succeeded in creating an interdimensional machine despite us having stolen what she needed for it?”

“Yes…. and no,” Don confirmed and denied. “It wasn’t stable. The bridge between dimensions was quick, and horribly uncalculated. Like a misfire from trying to modify a weapon. I think she was trying something else, and got more than she bargained for.”

“An accident,” Raphael reworded simply, then sighed. “Great. And we still don’t have enough evidence to get her locked up?”

“Not yet. But this might be a tipping point once we get it solved,” Don responded with a mirthless chuckle. If only it were that simple. Augustine was eccentric, and unstable, but apparently still too valuable for the EPF to be willing to let her go. “I’ve got a good guess where she’s hiding out now. Three of the signatures converge at one point, including the one that matches the readings I’ve remotely pulled from our third outpost. And the location is part of our list of potentials.”

“...Texas? Really?” Raphael complained, raising a brow when the location was singled out on the display.

“Yep. Texas.” Don nodded, then caught sight of an entry register on another screen and turned to meet the one who’d arrived.

“Guys! You gotta help me- I think Leo’s gone missing! You gotta help me find him.” Casey’s arrival to the home lair was announced via a stomping run as he shouted his distress, one of Leo’s swords in his hands. “He went off to do a patrol like he does, but then he didn’t come back, and then I went looking for him to come back here, but all I found was his sword thing, and he never leaves that laying around. I think he got snatched! Do you have a tracker or something on him?”

As Casey started to explain his side of the story, Raphael could only fold his arms as both he and Don stared blankly at their friend. It may have seemed like a weird ploy with ulterior motives, but after having spent so many years with the man they both knew that Casey wasn’t faking anything. He just apparently didn’t have two dots connected in his mind just yet.

“....Did you figure that all out before or after I called you?” Raphael asked simply, continuing to give Casey a dry look.

“What? Uhhhhh…… After-.... Ohhhhh,” Casey seemed confused at the apparent unrelated question. But Don and Raphael could swear they could see the dots in Casey’s mind clicking together as he remembered what Raphael had called about in the first place. “You guys already know. Heheh. Uhm….. So where we going?”

Don could only chuckle as Casey sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. Before he could answer Casey the room gained another body as Mikey came dashing in. “I’m here! Let’s go! Bags are packed! Are we flying or driving?” Mikey rushed, stopping to jog in place once he reached the landing the rest were on.

“Hold on, bro. We haven’t even gone over a plan yet,” Raphael chastised, though he couldn’t hold the amusement from his tone.

“You can debrief me on the plane. Or truck. Whichever. Time’s a wasting,” Mikey continued, still jogging in place. “Did you get to talk to him? Or get a picture? Bad guys love sending kidnapping pictures. Does he look- Oh!”

At the mention of a picture Don clicked a few keystrokes to change the view of the monitors back to the video they had received. Catching sight of it, Mikey abruptly stopped moving, turning to gape at the picture. “Woah….. Ohhhh no, the crazy lady grabbed some other poor mutant ninja turtles inste- wait- is that ME? Mini me? He’s so small. But the orange headband is my thing- ohhhhh we didn’t stop her, did we.”

Raph had to snort at Mikey’s reaction to seeing the other two mutant turtles that had been kidnapped along with their brother. Only then did he start moving to comply with Mikey’s earlier prompting to get going. “Accidental cross dimension kidnapping. Is what it looks like anyway. We won’t know for sure until we ask their names once we rescue them.”

“Alriiiight. Time to finally bash this lady’s head!” Casey cheered, rotating his arm with a fist and moving to follow Raph.

“Ah ah. Not you. People with kids under the age of ten are strictly on backup duty, remember? You stay here and keep an eye on April… and Master Splinter since I’m assuming he’ll be on babysitting duty again. Keep them and Junior out of trouble, alright?” Raphael countered, whipping around to poke Casey in the chest and push him back.

“Awwwww maaann. Really? That applies even for rescue missions?” Casey whined, though he didn’t seem too upset about it. He did get to stay with April and their son after all.

“It applies for all missions. Especially breaking into government bases,” Don confirmed, slinging his prepacked backpack over his shoulders. “I’ve already messaged April, she and Leatherhead will meet you here and infiltrate their systems to give us support. Make sure Master Splinter gets to bed on time too, will you?”

“Guhhhhh, finnnee. Just punch someone good for me, alright?” Casey relented, making a show of throwing his head back in a pout. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your dad too. Just don’t take too long.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Raphael assured. “You better not eat all the nachos,” he added as a warning, pointing a finger at Casey as he and the others left the raised terrace.

“Stealth plane Mikey. We’re headed to Texas,” Don directed, taking the lead to their underground hangar.

“Texas?” Mikey repeated, pausing verbally to consider a thought. “You think we can grab any kolaches while we're there?”

___________________

Previous Next (image of bloody mouth)

___________________

03 Mikey is just fine X'D He's just at a different, smaller base.

by the way, the 03 boys are in their 30s for this, if it wasn't apparent from them being scarred up and having more armor and stuff X'D

#my art #tmnt 2003 #rottmnt 2003 crossover #cross dimension kidnapping #tmnt crossover #03 Mikey #03 Raph #i posted this to the wrong blog at first #hahaha X'D derp #long post #writing

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fandomsoda · 1 month

Text

So… we’ve come this far, huh?

Today is officially the one year anniversary of my time on Tumblr, and the one year anniversary of my friendship with the lovely person who is @/dinosaurzzz (the slug cat on the right is its sona!).

It is honestly incomprehensible to me that it has been a full year since I got on this site and honestly it has completely changed my life. I have grown more as a person in this year than I believe I ever have in my whole prior life combined. I have found a community where I am loved, where I am safe, and where I am given the space to learn and grow from my mistakes, and that is completely fucking invaluable to me. And I will forever thank Dino for being the final thing to push me to finally get on this site that I already figured would be perfect for me. It has been such a wild ride, and even if Tumblr has muffled the reach of my posts at the moment, I am going to scream this one from the rooftops, and try to show appreciation for everyone who has helped me along this journey.

First of all shout out to my incredible partner @wishtale-blogs, she is the love and light of my life and she truly understands me and has my back. I never, ever thought that I would meet someone who both gets me completely and contrasts me perfectly and having her in my life is something I would never trade absolutely anything for. When you’re young it seems like destiny for partnerships to fall apart simply by nature of it being so early in life, but I genuinely feel as if this is unshakable, and I’m just.. so happy to have her.

And with that I’d next like to shout out our adoptive sons, @karineverse and @the-selfmade-gods. Both of you are absolute angels, lights of my life and people that I would protect with my life. Thank you so much for being here for me and being here for all of your friends and staying strong through all you’ve been through. I’m proud of you, truly I am so proud of you and I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.

Now, I am going to list out every single person I can think of whom I consider a friend. There will not be elaboration here as this post will be long enough as-is, but just know that I could write a blurb for each of you for why I adore you so much, some of you a whole essay. If your name is not here and you consider us friends, do not hesitate to message or ask me about it, I never want to leave people out and I know how anxiety-inducing it can be to not wind up on one of these lists with someone you care about. That being said, here are the names of all of my amazing friends, in no particular order:

@twinklesporkle, @justanidiotartist, @nyxus-nyx, @jupiter-nwn, @rib-rabbitmask, @still-got-no-idea, @liliallowed, @ashburntcat, @ponnedapple, @person-of-many-names, @itzcherrybonbon, @spamsbylee, @nevil-gonslek, @duckielikeserror, @psycho-chair, @letsatomicbanana, @starmonsterrr, @midnightstarshadow, @colorfulpaintspills, @kenopsia-ksp, @autisticseapanda, @hiro-doodlez, @cherrio-krispz, @emerald-onion, @the-save-star-anomaly, @everydaygremlin, @dreamsb0u, @skylerfurmaniac, @meimeikyu, @silly-inksans-stuff, @sketchingstars03, @shenanogram, @sargentvenipede

And with these friends, I’d also like to take a moment to thank followers of mine who I’ve never known super personally but still value immensely. I don’t truly know you guys, but you seem amazing, thank you so much for being here.

@hex0code, @cherrifruiti, @gloomywoomymoon, @atherflame-theconcubus, @neonordream, @finleyforevermore, @epicnightm, @youracecard, @pearbranch14823, @palisadewasp @wolvesbaneandbuttercups, @crunchontoast, @bloomyspring

Thank all of you so, so much. There would probably be more names but there is a mention limit of 50, so I had to cut some down. Either way, thank you all a million, you all mean so much to me and I think this day is truly going to be the start of a new beginning.

And to all the people who would have been here, the friends who should have been here but aren’t…

if it’s simply because we haven’t talked in a while, I hope you’re alright and I miss you.

but if it’s because you’ve harmed me, I still hope you’re alright and growing as a person. I’m sorry we didn’t work out and I promise I miss the you that I knew. I wish that things had happened differently, and even though you’re likely not seeing this I hope today can be the start of new beginnings for you too. Thanks for the impacts that you’ve left on me, even if those are scars. You guys have also helped make me into who I am, and without hardship it would be hard for me to learn.

Here’s to a new day, and any more lovely years to come.

#original art #digital art #blogaversary #one year on tumblr #my sona #sona art #friend’s sona

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dokiyeom · 10 months

Text

2:33 AM . K. SOONYOUNG

PAIRING: idol! soonyoung/hoshi x gn! reader

GENRE: fluff!

WORD COUNT: 1.1k!

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption

NOTE: i haven’t finished a wip or posted a written fic in forever i am so sorry <//3

SOONYOUNG SPORADICALLY CALLING YOU DURING ODD HOURS IN THE NIGHT wasn’t particularly unusual, given his odd work schedule, but tonight was different. from what you were aware, he shouldn’t have much time to call while he’s away filming something for his group’s variety show. nonetheless, it's 2 am and your phone is ringing because your precious boyfriend wants to talk.

“hello? babe, is everything okay?” you ask once you pick up.

“hi yn!” soonyoung whisper yells, “we’re playing hide and seek so i have to keep quiet,”

“do you want to text instead then? so your voice doesn’t give you away?” you offer, smiling inwardly as you envision your boyfriend tucked away somewhere undetected. he’s always had an exceptional knack for hiding, having been distinguished as the reigning king of every variation of hide-and-seek that his group seems to conjure up.

“no, no, i want to hear your voice,” soonyoung insists, “and we took off our mics so it’s okay!”

“alright then,” you smile, “so, how’s everything going? what’d you guys do?”

“mm, things are nice! we had a few snacks earlier and we’re going to cook dinner soon,” soonyoung eagerly reports, his smile falters a bit suddenly as his tone drops, “i wish you were here with us though. i want to be hiding with you right now,”

“so we could play speed and you could rest on my shoulder?” you muse, resting your chin on one hand.

“so this wouldn’t have to happen! yn! your chin should be on MY shoulder, not your hand!” soonyoung objects quietly, “and hiding with you is so fun, don’t you think? we could have fun conversations and discuss a game plan for whatever we end up playing next,”

“and most importantly, we could play anything as a team!” soonyoung proudly proclaims

“even if your members decide to split into a 2 v 12 game?” you giggle, recalling some of the retreats you tagged along to that concluded with you and soonyoung being less than functional due to jeonghan and joshua pushing for the two of you to team up against the rest of the group because in their words, not yours, ‘being a truly good couple means that no obstacles can stand in your way’.

apparently to soonyoung, that signified you two would win every game because he thoroughly believed you and him were the ultimate couple and team.

“especially if we end up in a 2 v 12 game yn! babe we are the dream team. you’re the brain and i’m the tiger. together we’re going unstoppable! as long as you can convince jeonghan and joshua to not cheat, we’re good!” soonyoung gives you a thumbs up to accentuate his resolve, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

“of course, of course, but soon, babe, don’t you think you have a bit too much faith in me? i’m not sure that i, or anyone, could convince jeonghan and joshua to ease up on us,” you hum. your smile widens to incomprehensible lengths as you watch soonyoung’s eyes illuminate.

“babe, you’re one of the smartest people i know, of course, you can!” soonyoung bobs vigorously.

“oh! i almost forgot!” soonyoung stiffens suddenly before easing, “we were supposed to all take a shot earlier together before we started playing hide and seek, but i hid mine so we could take it together,”

“aw soonyoung,” you melt and position your hand over your heart, “you’re too cute,”

soonyoung giggles softly over your remarks, his eyes morphing into charming upturned crescents, “you can just drink whatever drink you have nearby! it can even be water! anything’s fine, i just want to take my first shot of the night with you,”

you nod and hold up your mug of tea to the screen as soonyoung swiftly produces his hidden shot glass. the two of you tap your glasses to the screen as soonyoung dubs a faint little “clink!” before he gulps down his shot of soju and you sip your tea.

“so, how was your day?” soonyoung sings, hugging his legs closer to himself as he lays his head atop his knees.

“very quiet, not as eventful as yours,” you reply, “i got a bit of a rest day, so i mostly just read and got some work done,”

your phone buzzes with a text notification and its abruptness momentarily takes your attention away from your boyfriend, which instantly sets off lighthearted protests from him.

“oh! seungkwan texted,” you inform him.

“noo yn, can you ignore him so we can keep talking?” soonyoung helpfully suggests as you laugh and click on the notification.

boo 🍊: hi yn, sorry to bother, but can u tell hoshi to come out? we found him already but we didn’t want to interrupt and we’re gonna cook shin ramyeon now

yn 🍙: okok sorry to keep him away from u guys!! ill let him know and enjoy urselves !! pls take lots of pics and send them over :)

boo 🍊: ok!! sorry we couldn’t invite u to come :(((( and ik hoshi wants u here and so do we

yn 🍙: no need to apologize at all!!! u guys are there for going sev! we can hang out together next time when u guys have time :))

boo 🍊: for sure!!!! also dokyeomie says hi yn i miss u :)))))

yn 🍙: hi kyeom !!!! miss u && everyone else tooooo

“yn? ynnn!” soonyoung hums, waiting for your attention.

“yes, soon?” you match his singsong tone.

“do you think they’re ever going to find me?” soonyoung marvels, “i’ve been hiding here for a while,”

“they have, babe,” you reply, laughing a little as soonyoung’s eyes widen in shock, “seungkwan just texted to let you know that they found you earlier and now they’re going to start cooking ramen,”

“aw i don’t want to leave you though,” soonyoung pouts, clearly conflicted about what he should do, despite knowing that only one option will prevail.

“i’ll be here when you come back, okay babe? just go enjoy your snacks and drinking games. but don’t get too drunk please! take care of yourself,” you reassure him, wishing you could reach through the screen to ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek.

“okay fine,” soonyoung sighs, wavering before speaking again, “but when i come back, we’re going to have a game night with everyone! you and me versus them, okay?”

“anything you want,” you promise, “now go before they get mad!”

“okay bye yn! send me photos of whatever you eat for breakfast tomorrow please!”

“will do,” you beam, “i love you soonie!”

hoshi waves at the screen and holds it close to his face until the background is completely obscured by his radiant eyes, “i love you too yn! goodbye!”

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onlinekitsune · 1 year

Text

dull glow

ೃ⁀➷ PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS: mammon/gn!reader, it is all just lighthearted fluff, no warnings/not proofread

ೃ⁀➷ SYNOPSIS: on any regular day, imagining a day so angelic like this would be absurd. especially at the devildom, the furthest place from being angelic. however when you awake seeing a particular demon in your bed, the thought becomes a little more understandable.

ೃ⁀➷ WRITER’S NOTE: this was a short dabble from a friends prompt list!! i just wanted to post something i actually had done! i am experiencing a bit of writer’s block but i missed you all!! i hope you are doing well and enjoying nightbringers! it’s been helping my fixation on obey me return so I’m a bit happy about that

The light of your room wrapped its glow around his torso, almost giving him wings made from the candlelight. It was hard to believe that the body right beside you was a demon when he looked quite the opposite at this moment. You carefully shift your body. He looked too peaceful for you to wake him. You just wanted to bask in this, the closest thing you can get to a dawn being here. You never truly appreciated the brisk morning occupied by the sun’s gentle rays. They usually served as reminders of your sleeplessness and the stark dread of the beginning of the day. But now, it’s only met with the sleeping demon in your bed. His back extracted with every breath. Your fingers dance along his shoulder blades, tracing the outline of his muscles. He mumbles something you cannot comprehend, seemingly lost in a trance.

“It’s way too early to be awake, yanno” he muttered. His voice lingered on you like smoke. It was deeper than usual, catching you a little off guard. You didn’t expect it to happen to demons as well. You respond with a soft chuckle before resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“I didn’t know you were awake” you whispered, “Did I wake you?” The gentle feel of your breath on his back was enough to make him hitch his breath. He continued to mumble something incomprehensible into your blanket. “You know I can’t hear you, Mammon.”

He let out a soft groan, tossing around to face you. His sapphire eyes peeked out from his squint. “It’s so early, why are ya awake?” He whined. His eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open.

“You woke me up. You’re taking up the whole bed.” You teased. You were partially lying, just to tease him. You didn’t know what really woke you. Maybe you were just destined to see how gentle he could look while sleeping. A smile crept on his face.

“You’re such a liar.” He smirked, slightly shaking his head. “If I took up the entire bed, you’d be here..”

Mammon gently nudged you to the very edge of your bed, mocking the motions of pushing you completely off.

“If you push me off, I will drag you with me!” You laughed, wrapping a hand around his forearm. Mammon smiled and rolled his eyes. He then pulled you more into the bed, completely wrapping you around his arms. You were a bit shorter than Mammon causing you to be engulfed in him. Your face planted perfectly against his chest. You couldn’t complain, he was hot. Both figuratively and literally. You melted beneath him, letting the warmth take over you. Along with it was a sudden hit of sleepiness. You fought hard to keep your eyes open, but ultimately lost. Just before drifting asleep you could hear a faint Mammon.

“I love you, ya know that right?”

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monseulamourrr · 4 months

Text

→ “new year’s day.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader fic.

— while getting your well-deserved rest after an exhausting new year’s eve party, you and jiwon reflect on the long year you’ve both had under the stars of a new year…

word count: 3.4k

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, non-idol au, college au, side annyeongz.

requested? : nope.

a/n: looks around… this is for people who are still feeling the new year’s spirit!! 😭 i didn’t expect to finish this so late but eek i’m finally setting her free from the dungeons! i hope everybody had a happy new year’s day and i’m wishing you all only good times in 2024 🎉🎉

the start of a new year, and the first words you hear…?

“this is what happens when you invite everyone to bring their own drinks while having your liquor cabinet free to access.”

you never thought that jiwon, someone who was just a tad bit weirder and crazier than you are, would say that to you out of everybody but there you were—standing in the mess of your living room and witnessing the aftermath of a very long and very loud new year’s eve party. it looked as if everybody puked yellow confettis and shat golden glitters because it truly was in every nook and cranny of the room.

at least six people were passed out on the floor. the only thing you were happy about was that they were people that you knew, not some strangers you would have to drive to their home the morning after. jiwon starts picking up the empty alcohol bottles scattered on the floor while you merely stared dumbly. where the hell would you even start cleaning up?

“yujin-unnie, please do not sleep on the stairs.” jiwon, with four bottles tucked in her arms, scolds the older girl who was indeed passed out on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. yujin mutters something incomprehensible and reaches for the bottom of jiwon’s pants when the blonde tried to turn around and walk away. jiwon sighs and looks at you with pleading eyes.

“i got her,” you said. you pried yujin’s grip off jiwon’s ankle and picked her up, nearly falling down as you did so since yujin was so much taller. “wony’s in one of the rooms upstairs somewhere. i’ll just have unnie room with her.” and so you started climbing the stairs while dragging the older girl with you. jiwon made sure to stay close just in case both you and yujin lost balance, bless her heart.

you knocked on a door with several heart stickers plastered all over it. wonyoung, your roommate, opens up immediately. “hiya! oh,” the tall girl’s smile slightly faltered when she saw yujin’s state. her eyes switched back and forth between your awkward smile, the sight of jiwon scratching her head, and yujin being completely gone. “i love your parties so much, (y/n). someone’s always bound to be basically dead by the end of the night.” wonyoung laughed.

“i don’t know how it always happens… but can you help me with unnie? i don’t want her sleeping with the other girls downstairs—you know how they are with her.” you said.

“by ‘them’ you mean… her exes?” wonyoung asked, giggling.

“chaewon-unnie getting yujin-unnie alone is crazy enough. imagine adding yuri-unnie, gaeul-sunbae, seeun-unnie, and those other two…” you shivered at the thought. yujin grumbles in reply, raises her head a bit, and weakly says wonyoung’s name before pathetically attempting to walk towards her, only to nearly fall flat on her face.

luckily, wonyoung was quick to catch the older girl. “okay, let’s get you to lie down, yujin-ah.” wonyoung says before assisting yujin towards her bed.

worried, you tried to follow after the two girls but jiwon grabs your sleeve. “wony’s got unnie. let’s go.” the blonde closes wonyoung’s bedroom door and drags you back downstairs. right, you still had to clean up and find a place for all the girls on the floor to sleep in.

it was hell. once you’ve both picked up enough bottles to fill up four entire garbage bags, you ran all over your house to find an extra mattress and some pillows for the three girls who couldn’t fit into the sofa bed. somewhere along the way, you gave up on assisting the girls by carrying some of their weight and just… dragged them by their arms to their makeshift beds.

they seemed comfortable. but then again, they were unconscious.

either way, you and jiwon happily retreated to the kitchen to get some drinks. soft drinks—jiwon absolutely refused to let you have a sip of anything that had alcohol in them. there was still some leftover pizza that miraculously survived, so you and jiwon feasted on that as you watched the neon lights dance in your living room.

you turned your head to look at jiwon, who now busied herself cleaning up the countertops, her blonde hair shining under the fluorescent lights. and it just came to you that moments like this with jiwon were rare. the two of you were part of a big friend group so not everybody was going to be too close and much to your dismay, you and jiwon were that kind of duo in the group.

‘much to your dismay’ because you had the biggest crush on her.

“are you finished with that?”

see, you asked that same question to yourself sometimes. are you finished crushing on kim jiwon? there was never a clear answer. every time you tried to move on, jiwon just randomly shows up and steals your heart again. whether it’s giving you the cutest, shy smile when you pass by each other in the hallways, the way you’d sometimes catch her staring whenever your group was together and talking, or… when she does you all these little favours—like clarifying difficult material for you in school despite being in different programs, doing chores in your own house (like she is right now) since wonyoung makes her come over often (for obvious reasons), and checking up on you randomly.

plus, those dimples are irresistible.

“(y/n)?” jiwon tilts her head at you. you blinked, realizing that you’d been mindlessly staring at her like a creep all this time.

“r-right, sorry. i’m exhausted.” you handed over your plate.

“i think you should go to sleep actually. it’s been a long night,” jiwon steals a short glance over her shoulder to smile a you. “i can look after you.”

ba-thump.

god, you were a walking cliché.

“no, no. it would be rude for me to make you clean up the mess in my home. let me help you with that.” you started with grabbing all the random trash scattered all over your countertops and putting them in garbage bags. meanwhile, jiwon had started washing the dishes, now with her beautiful hair pulled up into a loose ponytail.

you tried not to pay attention to your warm cheeks too much as you moved about in your kitchen trying to clean up, but it was difficult. you couldn’t stop looking at jiwon every other minute, and you’d just looked away awkwardly on the rare times she’d look up from the sink to catch your glances. maybe you were imagining it, but you saw jiwon smiling to herself after she caught you staring for the umpteenth time.

maybe she thought you were stupid. in that case then, fuck. (stupidly cute maybe.)

when you came back from putting the trash bags in the garbage bin outside your house, your kitchen was nearly spotless. courtesy of jiwon who had enough energy to reorganize the misplaced items and wipe the marble countertops clean (she even sanitized it!). jiwon smiled as you entered the kitchen, “we have less to worry about in the morning now.” she said.

did that mean she was going to sleep here tonight? your heart races at the idea, but this wasn’t the time to think about that!

“you didn’t have to do all that, jiwon-ah. but thank you,” you say sincerely. when the blonde sends an appreciative smile your way, you bashfully turned your head and suddenly found your kitchen island more interesting. “knowing me i would’ve slept on the floor and made it all a tomorrow problem.” you chuckled awkwardly.

“well, now we can relax.” jiwon yawns and stretches her arms. all the partying, the ‘making-sure-yujin-doesn’t-sleep-with-thirteen-girls-in-one-night-again’ saga, and the clean-up seemed to be catching up to her. and suddenly, an idea came to mind.

here’s the thing about you, (y/n) (l/n). throwing the best parties all year long is your specialty, sure, but you’re also very good at finding the best ways one could loosen up and, as jiwon said, relax.

“i have the perfect place for you.” was all jiwon heard from you before you disappeared into your bedroom, leaving her standing at the bottom of yours stairs all confused. but excited, nevertheless.

it didn’t take long for you to come back downstairs, seeing as you only had to a zip-up jacket and a big, warm blanket (a pompompurin themed blanket, to be exact). “wear this! no doubt it’s a bit chilly out there.” after that, you wasted no time taking jiwon’s hand and slowly tugging her towards the direction of your backyard.

jiwon looked adorable in your jacket. she was taller than you but the jacket fit her just right. how funny it would be if she were to wear my clothes all the time? ha-ha, or be my girlfrie—

“(y/n),” jiwon gasped as she realize you were taking her to your very famous hammock. ‘famous’ because everyone and their mothers always ‘call dibs’ on your hammock whenever you were having a party. your backyard sees just as much action as your living room does during your parties. the wide space gave people a lot of freedom to do whatever they want, but what they loved more than that was your hammock. “i’m so honoured to be the first person in this new year to lay on the (y/n) (l/n)’s hammock.” jiwon teased.

“oh, please. just get in there and relax.”

and so, you assisted in getting jiwon lay comfortably in your hammock. she struggled a bit, yelping and laughing as the hammock swayed back and forth while she tried getting on it.

“hey, wait,” jiwon grabs your arm before you could leave alone. you blinked down at her, your eyes all lazy since fatigue was finally catching up to you. “lay with me.”

immediately, your face heated up. “w-what? why?”

“it’s comfortable! and don’t tell me this hammock can’t hold more than one grown adult—i’ve seen literal brutes stack up in here and this thing still held up,” jiwon’s grip on your sleeve was tight, and you wouldn’t have moved away if you wanted to anyway. “come here.” it came out of jiwon’s lips as a whisper, her eyes pleading you to stay.

“okay…” you walked around the other side and occupied the empty space on the hammock that jiwon had reserved for you. you struggled too, having to hold onto jiwon just to make sure you don’t fall out of the hammock and into the damp green grass. taking your eyes off of the leaves above you, you looked at jiwon’s hand that fell to your waist. she had a soft grip on your sweater, making sure you were secure with her.

“they weren’t kidding about this hammock,” you heard jiwon laugh. you looked up at her, her face bright with a big smile that made you crack a grin of your own. “it’s super comfortable.” you hummed in response. as the owner yourself, you could confirm! you couldn’t count how many afternoons you’ve spent softly swinging in this very same hammock after swim practice or a day of studying.

the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. it was when you suddenly found yourself looking everywhere but jiwon. well, with your proximity how could you? one of you would look up and your foreheads would touch—that would make you faint! as if being envelope by her scent and jiwon herself wasn’t enough!

“it was a long year for everyone,” jiwon mutters minutes later. your eyes fluttered open, meeting the blonde’s very own warm brown ones. “i was talking with a lot of our friends earlier and they all said a lot of things happened that they didn’t expect at all. and i feel the same, honestly.” jiwon wraps the blanket around the two of you after she caught you shivering slightly.

“really? felt like it was the same damn thing for me… at least i got better at swimming though.” you chuckled, having remembered that you recently beat your old speed record by three seconds. that was a good day—wonyoung and yujin acted as if you won the championship with the way they doted on you right after. something about being so proud of their ‘baby’.

“and you got smarter. turns out spending your free period studying diligently instead of going downtown and splurging money on arcades and food isn’t all that bad, huh?” jiwon says. she was most likely talking about how you struggled with a few of your classes but eventually, with the help of a fucking miracle that is, survived with decent to impressive grades.

“please, i was miserable… at least i’ll graduate, i guess,” you shrugged, earning a light hit on the hip from jiwon. “what was so different with your year?” you asked, moving just a little bit closer to her.

jiwon clears her throat, suddenly finding your full attention on her being a bit much, “well… i made new friends, fixed my relationship with rei even though we broke up, got even smarter, and i…” she trails off, smiling to herself. “i fell in love again.” she mumbles.

you ignored the way your heart clenched within itself. “what? when were you going to tell us?” you asked, grinning and trying to tease her.

“i was hoping never.” jiwon looked away, her cheeks flushed pink. if that person got sweet little jiwon giggling and smiling like this, then they can’t be that bad, right? you can be happy for them both, right?

“come on—not even wonyoung?” you asked again. the blonde shook her head. “how about me? i got no one to tell! off the record, i swear! i promise i will never let it slip that someone’s got you all whipped for them!” jiwon hits your shoulder lightly while you laughed. at least jiwon herself admits that this person makes her happy. that was good enough for you.

as long as jiwon stays as her smiley, weird self, then you were going to be okay.

“fine. drop the dish later but can you at least tell me that you kissed them when the clock struck 12?” it would hurt to know, but you had to.

a solemn expression takes over jiwon’s relaxed expression. you mirrored her face, afraid that you might have pushed the wrong button. “i couldn’t. she was… occupied.” jiwon stares at you, her eyes pained and regretful.

(as you consoled jiwon with a squeeze on her arm and a supportive smile, as you always do, she looks back on the time when the new year finally came and everybody grabbed their cherished one and hugged and kissed them. that time, she had been staring at one person—you, the girl she was hopelessly infatuated with.

a confetti canon pops, “happy new year!!” everyone shouted in unison before cheering. jiwon feels wonyoung and rei grab her before they closed the distance and attacked her cheeks with kisses, making her squeak and wriggle out of their hold with her face beet-red. rei and wonyoung giggled, gave each other kisses on the cheek before moving on to other people.

it should be noted that a certain ahn yujin grabbed wonyoung’s arm out of nowhere and pulled her to a dark and less populated area to do who-knows-what.

jiwon greets her friends a happy new year, hugged them, but she couldn’t look away from you. you were in the center of the living room with a drink in your hand, chatting and laughing with everybody else. you were hugging people, kissing people… pretty much everybody was lining up just to chat with you.

(y/n) (l/n). so damn charming. even jiwon couldn’t help but fall in love.

amidst the sea of people crowding you, your gaze meets jiwon’s. the blonde girl froze where she stood, eyes widened slightly. but of course she didn’t have anything to worry about. jiwon watched as your eyes shined upon meeting her own, looking like you were the happiest girl in the world, before you gave jiwon a wave with a shy smile.

the moment was quick to be taken away as some party-goers averted your attention from jiwon to them, making the blonde girl sigh and wonder just when will she be able to tell you everything she has been feeling for years.

maybe it was jiwon’s fault for never having the courage. you had a lot of people chasing after your affection; what are the chances that she was your type? if there even is one.)

“enough about me. how about you? kissed that special someone?” jiwon asks. your face heats up again. you admit, you did want to risk everything and just… take the chance. but that was before you knew that she had someone in her heart. now you were afraid to even look at her in fear of your secret being let out. and by yourself, no less!

“u-uh… no… i couldn’t either.”

jiwon scoffed, “you’re the most admired girl in the campus and you’re telling me you didn’t have a little session with someone? come on, (y/n), you can tell me.” she shakes your arm, pouting with a pleading look on her face.

shit, how could you resist her?

hiding your feelings have always been a very difficult task for you. people think you’ve always got yourself under control but more often than not, that was just a façade. you were a fucking mess. and sweet little jiwon’s existence unfortunately contributes to the reasons as to why you sometimes struggle to keep your feelings in check.

soft and kind coffee brown eyes that are like magnets to your own. cheeks that you’ve always wanted to hold in your hands. lips that are so inviting… and a golden heart that’s completely got you under its spell.

you are so in love.

“couldn’t kiss her,” you mumbled. perhaps jiwon noticed the solemn look in your face since she decided to stop squeezing your arm. instead, her hand slides into yours. comforting you and keeping you warm. “b-because… y-you didn’t…” god, were you really going to do this? now? awkward timing aside—jiwon liked someone else! you’d only look like an idiot confessing now… but then again… better to look like an idiot to the girl you like than anyone else.

“huh?” jiwon, rightfully confused, furrows her eyebrows.

“i couldn’t kiss her because… you didn’t… kiss me,” again, a walking cliché. you hoped that the way you suddenly found the trees above you interesting and how you immediately released jiwon from your soft hold told her everything. “i like you, jiwon-ah…”

despite your gut telling you ‘no’, you looked at jiwon again. she was surprised, as expected. her eyes were widened slightly, her lips half open in shock. your chest tightens. you shouldn’t have told her. should’ve kept your mouth shut. what a way to start the new year—creep your crush out by confessing to her in a very odd close distance.

(well, fuck.

in a good way. it was all jiwon could think about at the moment. she never thought that her crush of several years would confess to her at such a time. she should probably say something. do something, even.

but she just laid there staring at you thinking… was it too late in the day to kiss you?)

with a quivering voice, you spoke. “i-i’m sorry, jiwon. i shouldn’t have… i should go.” you moved to get up, not feeling like you could withstand the feeling of shame and regret in front of jiwon any longer. however, jiwon had other ideas. she grabs your arm and stops you from leaving her, and then her other hand cups your cheek and pulls you in.

jiwon kissed you. her soft lips tasted like caramel, mocha and soda, moving in sync with your shaky ones. you allow yourself to melt, tilting your head and deepening the kiss as jiwon wraps both of her arms around your neck, making sure that you wouldn’t try to leave her again. you feel her hands in your hair, her fingers softly caressing your locks—you’ve never felt so warm and… safe until now. it was a relieving feeling.

when you pulled away, jiwon’s eyes shined akin to the thousands of stars above you. “you can’t say that i didn’t kiss you now.” she says with a sly smirk. her tone was smug and teasing, but you knew with the way her face was flushed pink that even she couldn’t believe she just went ahead and kissed you.

and when jiwon tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and whispered just how much she adored you before catching your lips in a sweet kiss once again, you knew that this year was going to be full of surprises. and you couldn’t have it any other way! as long as you were with jiwon.

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 5 months

Note

How about dragonite? I know they are big and powerful. But their usually pleasent demeanor and high inteligence keeps that power in check, so would size be the only issue for the big orange softie?

While dragonites do score a D rank, you do have good instinct in pointing out that size is the biggest issue here. Although, their sheer power is certainly something to keep an eye on.

Dragonites are pretty big, needless to say. At seven feet tall, it certainly wouldn’t be impossible to keep a dragonite in your home (there’s human beings that tall, after all). But space isn’t the only issue when you get into a pokémon species this large: think about the food costs, the bed, the transportation, etc. They’re quite heavy too, at over 450 pounds! This size increases the their threat level significantly.

Thankfully, as you pointed out, dragonites are big orange softies. They are described in the pokédex as “kindhearted” (Ruby/Sapphire) and are known to fly over the sea to rescue people from drowning (Gold). That being said, very few humans have interacted with this species (Red/Blue, LeafGreen). They are theorized to live on an isolated island out at sea populated only by dragonites (Yellow, Crystal). At the very least, dragonites are not very used to living among humans Unfortunately, these pokémon are said to be as intelligent as humans (Red/Blue). This brings up some really difficult ethical questions about if it would be just to keep one as a pet in the same way that it would be unjust to keep a human as a pet. Perhaps they should be left to their own agency.

As previously mentioned, dragonites are immensely powerful pokémon. Despite their large build and relatively small wings, they can fly at pretty incomprehensible speeds. The pokédex claims that dragonites are capable of flying around the globe in just 16 hours (Emerald). Doing some pretty simple math, this means that dragonites could fly as fast as 1,556 miles per hour. While we must acknowledge that this is a vast oversimplification, because it is much more likely that it takes them some flight time to build up this speed, it is an indication of unbelievable strength that makes moves like Extreme Speed and Slam even more dangerous. Then you add in moves like Thunder Punch and Fire Punch, which present significant hazards, or high damage moves like Hurricane and Hyper Beam, and you have a pokémon with a truly startling ability to cause destruction. All that being said, they are usually quite calm. They are not, however, completely above having bad days: as the pokédex puts it, “incur the wrath of this… pokémon at your peril, because it will smash everything to smithereens before it’s satisfied” (Moon).

While dragonites are known for their kindhearted nature and intelligence, their size and innate power makes them a force of nature that should probably not be constrained to a human home. Add in the fact that they’re as intelligent as people, and you may have an ethical issue as well. I’m sure one would like to be your friend, though!

#pokémon #pokemon #dragonite #pkmn irl #PR-D

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 18 days

Note

then imagine caretaker being called in to try and calm whumpee down, but it’s too late. whumpee’s voice lashes out like wind, speaking tongues only the ancients know, their power overtaking their own body, ichor dripping from gashes—no longer human, nor ever will be again. there’s nothing caretaker can even do anymore, it’s far too late

but even now, whumpee softens around caretaker. through the mania, they remember the shape of caretaker’s soul and wish no harm upon them, even after laying devastation into the world around them

AUGH EVIL. Oh okay, I never really considered if there’d be a point of no return. If whumpee could become so overcome with their magic that they’ll never fully recover from it, that they could lose their humanity to it.

I’m sure the fate for such mages isn’t pleasant. Are they allowed to burn out in an empty field, magic still sputtering out of their broken body? Are they shot and killed from a distance? Darted and held captive like a wild animal, prodded by scientists still trying to use them? Mages are already treated like ticking time bombs, like weapons with a human mind attached to them. Imagine how they’d be treated if that human mind were to shatter.

I hope you know that I love your idea. Whumpee being gone, everything of who they were carved out and replaced with power and glee, and yet something of them remaining. A fragment, an after image burned into their hollow body. Sometimes the voice speaking in incomprehensible tongues sounds like them. Sometimes the way their body twitches, wracked with power, seems familiar. Sometimes their smile softens, if only for a moment.

It’s not enough to save. It’s just the residue of who Whumpee was, nothing more. But it’s enough to be recognizable. And it gives Caretaker just enough hope to march through the chaos and destruction to reach them.

Caretaker knows what they’re supposed to do. They feel the weight of the weapon at their side, remember that it’s their duty to control Whumpee, not save them. Caretaker knows that a good handler would see that Whumpee is too far gone and put an end to the madness. Uncontrollable weapons need to be put down.

But then Whumpee looks at them. There’s nothing but madness in those eyes, but they’re still Whumpee’s eyes. Even clouded with magic, even covered with blood both their own and foreign, even fully overtaken by power Caretaker could never hope to understand, it’s still Whumpee. And at that moment Caretaker realizes they’d rather die to Whumpee than kill them.

But they don’t die. Even with the chaos around them, Caretaker is never touched. Whumpee’s gaze moves past them, their magic does not harm them. They feel like they’re in the eye of the storm, walking within a cocoon of safety while screams tear through the air. Whumpee does not hear Caretaker’s pleas, their desperate demands that they stop. Caretaker never truly believed that they would have. But Whumpee doesn’t hurt Caretaker either.

Caretaker knows what they should do, what the right thing to do is. Whumpee doesn’t see them as a threat. It’d be simple to kill them.

Caretaker lets the blade from limp fingers and reach out. They grab one of Whumpee’s sparking, twitching hands and squeeze. They like to imagine that, when Whumpee’s hand tightens around their own, it’s a conscious decision.

They’ve never left Whumpee alone in their madness. If Caretaker can’t pull them back, then the least they can do is walk alongside them.

And so they walk with Whumpee as the world is torn apart around them.

#whumpee #caretaker #an ask tag #magical whump #delirious whumpee #out of it whumpee

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delicrieux · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 | autumn features (november edition)

pairing—aemond targaryen x f!reader summary—an accurate and detailed account of what had truly happened to lady tyrell at court, ages to ten and six to ten and nine. word count—9.6k warnings for this chapter—besides the typical hotd nonsense, there are spoilers for further events in hotd at the very end of this chapter! also tw sa (not at reader) and death tagging @thesadvampire @curlszx88 masterlist. ☕. autumn features. part 1. part 2. extra. ♥

Aegon is well into his cups, despite the hour. There are great lines under his eyes and a flush on his cheeks, messy, bed ridden hair and sloppily thrown on vestments that make him, alone in the hall doused in morning sunlight, seem more as a drunken patron of a local bar rather than a prince. The line of soldiers clears after your entrance and the doors shut with a loud, groaning sound. It echoes, rushes past you and into the carved ceiling. His attention is stolen from the cup in hand and redirected to you.

The change in his expression is instant – from a frowning, stony face to a delirious smile, “…Morning, sister.” His eyes roam your body, down the exposed slope of your shoulders all the way to the tidy hems of your new dress, “Looking…dashing this fine hour.”

“What an hour indeed, brother.” You squeeze between your teeth. He hums, takes a generous gulp; a red drop runs down his chin, as if he was feasting on blood. The sight repulses you, “Hope I’m not intruding.” Your voice does not hold the gentle timbre you present to the rest, but rather a sharp edge that will cut cleaner than dragonsteel if prompted. Your eyes burn into him. He merely snorts.

His chair slides backwards with a creak, “Intrude all you please,” He raises his glass to your honour, “you know I’d never mind, my wife-that-never-was.”

“What privilege do I have for you to call me so.” He doesn’t take your sarcasm to heart—he never does. Mostly he’s too drunk out of his mind to care about your thorny words, “And here I was—“

“Save your speeches for someone who cares to hear them.” He interrupts you, though not unkindly. He’s smiling into his drink before tasting it again, “What do you want, sister?”

You raise a brow, “Would it be so strange for me to seek out your company?”

That gets his attention. Even his posture straightens. There’s a beat of silence before his laughter disrupts it, “Well, then,” He shrugs, drowns his cup, sets it harshly on the table, “you’re engaged to my brother, I’m married, but—“ He smacks his thighs in invitation, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“A conversation will do.” You state.

“And you will find that my lap is the only place I’ll care to listen.”

“Charmed, Aegon.” You bite, “Your eloquence truly has no limits.”

“I hope you to find that my actions are much more engaging than my vocabulary.” He tuts, and a slow, pleased smirk pulls on the corner of his lips, “It would be like nothing you’d felt before, I’m certain. Seven be my witness.”

“What did you do?” The severity in your voice catching him off guard. Stumped, for a moment, he can only stare at you, at your rigid, angry features, tightly clasped hands. But he falls into his role easily, so unperturbed and easy-going, smiling to himself without a care in the world.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“I know it was you.” You say, approaching, and he wilts in his chair a little under the scrutiny of your gaze, “So tell me. Enough of these games, just spit it out so I could fix the mess you have made.” He can’t quite look you in the eye. After a pause, he mumbles something incomprehensible, “Speak up.”

“I didn’t do anything, alright.” He snaps, “Could I at least hear my crime before being prosecuted?”

You huff, “Hear your crime? Don’t be daft, Aegon, your jokes are unbecoming—“

The heavy wooden doors suddenly cry at the hinges and part—in comes a shivering servant girl, her head bent down, holding a pitcher of wine in her trembling hands. She briefly lifts her glassy eyes, the same colour as your own, and quickly looks downward once more, “I-I brought more wine for the Prince.” She announces, but her voice is quiet, rasp, near choked.

You note her untidy dress, dishevelled, (colour) hair, bruised skin around her arms, neck, and shoulders. It’s only too easy to imagine yourself being the recipient of Prince Aegon’s unwanted affection—that was a life you had been saved from. Your gaze slides back to Aegon, and his cheeks are burning red, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

The servant girl scrambles to pour him wine, and all it takes is a twitch of his fingers for her to startle and spill most of it on the floor, “I-I am so sorry, your grace—“

“Come.” You tell her. Setting the pitcher down, she obeys and stumbles over, bottom lip bitten from fright. She tries to adjust her skirt and wipe the remnants of the drink from her hand somewhere where you wouldn’t notice. Tears steadily stream down her cheeks, more and more with each step she takes, and you can barely look at her without flinching, “Have you told anyone?”

She sniffles, “N…No, my lady. I, I only—only went to fetch the wine—“

“Go to my room. Use the servant corridors, and make sure no one sees you. Wait there till I return.”

“My lady—“

“Go. Now.”

She bows and scrambles out the backdoor. Silence reigns broken by your angry breaths. You’re boiling from the inside, and all of that frustration trickles down to your hands where you fiddle with your rings. You think this is what it would feel to burn.

Grinding your jaw you turn to Aegon, “You disgust me.”

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised, merely dips his head, like a child scolded. He scowls, “You forget yourself, Lady Tyrell. You’re speaking to a Prince—”

“Fuck you.” You spit, “Fuck you and your court and your vile antics.”

“Well, if you’re offering—“ He growls, “my lap’s up for the taking.”

“I’d rather hang.”

“And you soon will if you keep speaking like that. Fuck.” He pours himself a drink, downs it, and then pours another, “This the crime I’m punished for? Feeling awfully altruistic, aren’t we, sister? Didn’t give a shit about any of the others, but since this one looks like you—“

“We look nothing alike.”

“You do.” He states, “And you should find my opinion no different from my brother’s—Gods, if you only knew—“

You raise a hand, “The only thing I wish to know is what you told Aemond.”

He leans back in his seat, watching, oddly sober, “Told him what?” He inquires, his voice ringing with a genuine note of curiosity, “That your whole bloodline is full of leeches? Or that you don’t give a shit about the people or the servants in this castle?” He snorts, “Doubt that would be a surprise for him, now, my darling wife on the other hand—“

Your fist thunders down on the table. The cutlery shakes and his cup nearly tumbles over, “Damn it, Aegon!” You hiss, “Tell me what lie you’ve spread so I could salvage this before a greater conflict arises.”

Stunned, he simply stares, “…Had…had something happened? Between you and my brother?”

You gape at him, “…You imbecile.”

“I’ll have you know I had no part in this—“ He quickly states, “—whatever this is. I’m innocent, and quite frankly, you blaming me so baselessly—“

“Seven give me strength…”

“What did you do, anyway?” He asks, “I saw Aemond was in a mood but I just figured—“ He shrugs, “—well, he’s always in a mood. So I didn’t figure anything, really.”

You watch him for a moment, straightening up, “…So you mean to tell me that you truly had no part in this?”

“In what? Trying to break you up? No, learned—“ He quiets quickly, taking his glass.

“Learned what?”

He shrugs again, eyes roaming around the area, “That it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, a bad idea, I recon?”

“Your intellect almost rivals your beauty, sister.”

“And it shall surely surpass it once you tell me what had happened.”

He holds up a finger, lips turned downward, “…Just to preface, I meant no harm—“

“Speak and I shall decide on the fact.”

“—it was, just, simply, a long…lonely night.” He continues, “And I just, well I figured,” He smiles, though it’s uncomfortable, “not my brightest moment, surely—“

“I’ll grow old before you finish if you keep dallying so.”

“I went to your room.”

“What?”

“And so happened to meet my brother half way and really, now, he was not pleased in the slightest, I almost—where are you going?” Noting your retreat, he stands, “I wouldn’t have done anything!” He calls after you, “Just a chat, (Name)! A fucking chat with an old friend! Gods, you’re prissy just like my brother. You two are perfect for each other! Fucking perfect, you hear?”

The last of his voice gets cut off by the closing door.

You move through the labyrinth of the castle in quick, light steps, hands folded, and though your thoughts blaze with an unfurling scheme, your face betrays none of that inner turmoil. Your ears are hot, and the dress is much too tight to rush in, but you prevail and even manage to beam at the idling lords and ladies on your way to Queen Alicent’s quarters.

Ser Criston must have informed her of your nightly ventures by now – he had caught you in one, but she would be right to assume it had not been the first time you broke a sacred codex of courtly manners. What she thinks of you now may be no better than what Aemond assumes, yet—his name spurts a different image, one that brings this strange tightness to your chest and makes you slow your pace, if barely.

You imagine him there, in the shadowy corridors, lost and conflicted, a wraith that had risen from the grave to seek out something precious. Would his face look even lovelier in moonlight? Would his hair be un-brushed, un-braided, tousled, as if he had ran his fingers through it sleepless before finding you? Would he have remembered to done his leather eye patch, or would he had knocked on your door barefaced, with the emerald gleaming in the dark? Would he had smiled once you invited him inside, or would he had fled before reaching you?

You think that you may have been waiting for him on the eve of his name day, alone in your silks, alert for a gentle knock or a push on the door that informed of a visitor you had been anticipating. Your heart was beating in your throat, and you were restless, pacing back and forth, and while you had assumed you were simply anxious to report to mother, perhaps there had been a different cause entirely.

As if summoned, he appears from behind the corner and you nearly run into his chest, stopping just in time. Momentarily stunned, he says nothing; you note his hands clench into firsts before loosening, promptly hidden behind his back.

“Lady Tyrell.” He greets with leer, and you have, by now, realised that the brothers only refer to you as that when they are deeply displeased or wish to wound you—to remind you that you are not family, despite growing up with them, despite loving them, despite being promised to one of them. And from Aemond, your name sounds particularly dull, as if you were nothing but a passing acquaintance.

You would like to think that it does not hurt, to think you had felt worse, and surely will feel worse in the future – this court and it’s secrets and it’s deceit will wear you down, eventually, as it does to most. But it does hurt. It’s a small poke to a wound that’s barely scabbed and prone to bleeding.

“You seem to be in an awful hurry.” He comments when you don’t respond, “Pray tell where is it that you’re running. Or is someone chasing you, perhaps?”

You keep your smile cordial, “I have important news for your mother the Queen I wish to deliver. Excuse me.”

You brush past him, but his firm hand on your forearms halts you, “I’m curious about this news. Indulge me?”

Even through layers of linen and leather his touch burns you. You would shrug him off, if only it did not feel so pleasant, “It is best kept between your mother the Queen and I, my prince.” His face does not change at the nickname. You recall when he was young, when his cheeks would blaze bright by your call.

He had been gentle once, pliant in your hands. You could have moulded him into anything you wished to.

Vhagar never gave you the chance.

He chuckles—it’s a deep, hoarse sound somewhere in the back of his throat, “Something even I can’t know? My, must be of the gravest importance.”

“It is.”

His hold slackens and you break free. Two steps are all you manage to take before, “Pretty dress.” He says, and it’s an indolent remark. You turn back, “Is there an occasion for it?”

“I’m a Tyrell.” You remind, “I have many pretty dresses, as you should know.”

“I was only curious if there was someone you wished to impress by wearing it.”

“If that were the case, that would only be my future husband, who, as it seems, does not care much for my efforts. I must away, now.”

“Husband, you say?” He wonders aloud, mirthless, “If memory recalls you have been promised to a few.”

“Yet I’m set to marry only one.”

He hums, “Yes, though, you were quite adamant in breaking off that engagement as well—or am I wrong, Lady Tyrell?”

He’s so smug with his observations, so effortlessly poised despite pointing a dagger to your throat. You swallow, and your composure cracks—that smile you had practiced so many times in the mirror falls, “I should think a prince would have better things to do than insult his lady wife,” You speak, “but once again, you Targaryens prove to be unpredictable. If you have nothing else to say—“

“Did you see my brother?” He questions, and his eye is fixed on you, watching carefully for any unplanned movement, any twitch and pull of a lie.

“I have,” You admit, “and if you must know, he is why I must see the Queen in the first place.”

“And it is so important that you can’t even tell me.”

You take a step closer, frowning, hissing, “There’s a serving girl in my quarters, one of many to which he shows his affections, and unless you wish the line for the throne to be even more complicated than it already is, I suggest you leave this be.”

“In your quarters?” He raises a brow, “Pray tell, does she look like you as well?” His hand comes to touch your hair, but you swat it away with a slap. There’s faint amusement in his voice, though his features are as if set in stone, “Perhaps she even bares your name and title—“

You turn away. It’s a quick spin and retreat and you feel your throat closing, lashes trembling, molars grinding. But your back is straight, and your head is held high, and you think of Highgarden and the flowers, carefree days of tea ceremonies and rehearsals, as he continues talking, his voice growing further and further away. Once out of sight, you bitterly wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

He had been gentle once, how had he become so cruel?

Queen Alicent had always been most kind to you, and you had always supposed that she regarded you more as a daughter than her own—more as a child born out of her womb than any of the Targaryens she must call her children. Her sombre features were always quick to break into a smile in your presence, and she loved to hold your hands, trace the lines of your palms, and talk about anything, be it the weather. And when your presence is announced, by Ser Criston of all, she swiftly brakes away from her papers and stands to greet you.

Your exchange is quiet; voice soft, ruptured by a devotion you feel somewhere deep—it’s heavy, ivory, without it you’d feel like missing a bone. You report dutifully, as any good-mannered lady should, of the vile actions of the Prince. She is not astounded by the news, and meets it with a tilted head and a small grimace.

Arrangements are made to brew a tea for the poor girl waiting in your bedchamber. Before you leave Alicent calls after you gently, “I know that you are innocent.”

That dark, red room full of incense flashes in your mind, and you glance at her. She smiles, “Ser Criston had…told me he had found you wandering on the hour of the owl.”

“I was only out to clear my head.”

“I know, my—“ She pauses, clears her throat, “I know, (Name). I know. But where I believe you, others may not, so I only ask of you this: no more. I know, I know you may feel…trapped, at times.” She says that word with such heaviness and hurt you feel she is no longer referring to you, “But,” She composes herself hastily, “but it’s the way it is. Such is our duty, as women of the court.”

“I understand, your grace.” You bow, “It was foolish of me. I shall never do so again.”

You see your murky reflection on the polished floor, the cap of your satin shoes embroidered and jewelled peeping out under the hems of your dress—the same shoes your wear to visit the poorest of districts in King’s Landing. The soles are no longer spotless and the rubies had been coated in a thin layer of dust. They don’t sparkle anymore with every step you take down the crumbled stairs. The peasantry sticks to corners, crevices, small nooks where they can hide and feel safe with the walls of their shabby homes protecting them. They watch you with weakly masked awe and distrust. The crowd of soldiers slinks behind you, keeping their distance by your request.

A flock of servant girls trail alongside, arms-linked and cheery, carrying woven baskets of fruit and silk you intend to give out to those less fortunate. It’s a bi-yearly trek, all of the sake of reputation. Your heart does neither weep nor ache at the sight of a sick child or a whoring mother selling her body to feed her family—these streets, with their filth and sweat and doleful hope, do not inspire much to you at all.

It’s a hot afternoon. You are all purged under the rays of the sun.

Your hands grasp smaller ones with a twirl, and you smile and laugh with the children you pulled into a short dance, “My lady!” One of the servant girls squeak, “You’ll ruin your dress!”

“I have others.” You respond easily. The children hold you so tightly you think they do not want to let you go.

“My lady,” As evening slowly draws across the sky, one of your handmaidens springs to your side with a whisper, “I must inform you of what I’ve heard.” Your head barely tilts to the side, so her lips would speak into your ear only. The streets swim with patrons; your guards march in the back with their armour reflecting the setting sun, “Though, I fear to even speak it, for, my lady, sweet and gentle as you are, you may faint.”

Gracefully, your hand extends, and she produces a linen cloth on which you wipe away the grime from your fingers, “Things seldom surprise me anymore, Laenora.” You utter. The hike to the castle is long, and your legs have grown tired and smile stiff from all this theatre, “But if you feel as though it is something I may not care for, save it for yourself.”

“I think you should know, my lady, though it’s no subject for one pure as you.”

“Do not speak of purity here, Laenora. These people do not know of it.”

“Indeed, my lady, and thus you find my conflict. The news I bare comes from the mouths of the women themselves, and I trust their secrets, as they trust in your coin. It’s about the brothers, see—both of them have become frequent visitors of the Street of Silk.” She nearly mouths the name, repulsed to even voice it. A frown lines her lips and her eyes gleam with sadness—surely, you would find this news most unpleasant, especially since your husband-to-be is entangled in this hearsay.

The news of Aegon is hardly news at all, and Aemond, despite his mostly polite behaviour, is still a man. Perhaps he had taken your comments to heart, “…I see.” Is all you manage to say. It’s not disappointment you feel, though it’s not nothing, either.

“But that is not all, my lady,” Laenora resumes, “no, not at all, for what comes next is, I’m afraid, what may shock you still.”

“Well, speak it.” You state plainly, lifting your dress to trudge up the stairwell—the expanse of the castle looms ahead, towering under the gem-blue sky.

“The women had told me, yes, they’ve said, and I could find no lie, for they love coin, their truth is bought, much like their bodies—see, my lady, they indeed confessed, that once the princes come to visit, they only request girls that bare your likeness.”

You inhale sharply and your heart tumbles to the pit of your stomach, as if you missed a step by accident. You glance at her, and she is as serious as she ever was, apologetic, almost, to have to relay such indecencies. You recall what Aegon had hinted at many moons ago, and now it all suddenly makes sense.

“…This is…” You begin, not certain how to weave all of your thoughts into a coherent sentence, “Well…”

“Troubling news, my lady, I know.” She murmurs, and her hands come to hold yours tenderly, as if you would bear the weight of this secret easier if it’s shared between two, “I’m sorry, but you must know, I fear, you must.”

“You mustn’t tell anyone else. Not a soul.”

“I will not, my lady, this I swear; it shall be kept between us only.”

The next you see Aemond is by the dinner table doused in candle-light. The old walls of the Keep echo with silent chatter and clanking cutlery, Aegon’s offbeat laugh or loud jousting of his cup. The King is much too ill to ever join for supper anymore—he you see little, only when invited by the Queen herself to pay a visit. The Lord Hand keeps the King’s seat warm whilst he’s resting. You had noticed this subtle shift in power veer and spill over into blatant occupation. The décor had changed, too: all gloomy and wooden and in reverence to the Seven.

Aemond does not look at you; he seems to skip you as his gaze roams around the table. He is still at cross with you, and when you meet the next day in Helaena’s room, he hardly speaks a word.

The weeks shift into months and your name day looms over the horizon. The fog-laden morning in King’s Landing brims with sleep. The Dragon Pit reeks of flesh and blood and odour, and you have trouble keeping your grimace at bay. You shift in your armour: thousands of leather straps dyed in deep evergreen and fashioned to hold by pins of silver baring the Tyrell crest.

Sunfyre trails the clouds before stooping to the roof with a mighty roar. The sound nearly knocks the wind out of your lungs. Aegon, beside you, laughs merrily, “Sister!” He calls you; the ground shakes as Sunfyre lands, a smelting hot breath of putrid air gushing past the lot of you, “Ride with me, why don’t you?”

“Aegon!” Helaena scolds, fixing her gloves, “Must you jest now?” Her own dragon, Dreamfyre, is being escorted from the Pit, mollified and gentle, much like her. The dragon-keepers speak in High Valerian – what they say is beyond you, and though the language is beautiful, it’s too sharp, like a whip, or a gleaming tooth of a dragon, “Sister,” Her loving smile calms you, if only for a moment, “you needn’t be nervous—“

But her words are drowned in a far-off roar that cracks the sky into two. Aegon is still laughing as he saddles Sunfyre, staring into the swirling clouds and at the vague shape of a massive body casting an even greater shadow. The Queen shakes her head and closes her eyes, as if to shield herself from an upcoming headache. Noting your gaze on her, her lips twitch into a painful smile, “We shall see you shortly. It will be a…” She glances up, “A…quick flight, I recon.”

And there, from the forming storm clouds emerges Vhagar with a splint of sunlight raining down with her. She circles the Pit, slowing, before, gradually, she descends and you note a mane of white hair twirling from behind her head. You hold onto Helaena as she clings to you from the fearsome quake: dust dances in the air a hot vapour slices past your cheeks. The keepers gather, sharp staffs in hand and faces healed in boils, ushering you closer with curt, displeased motions. You dare not move.

You had met Vhagar only twice and it was enough to dissuade you from ever meeting her again. It’s her eyes that frighten you most, ancient and intelligent—she has seen cities burn and be raised again from the ground up, and had, surely, been part of many of such conquests. She’s massive, a body that radiates heat and smoke, with glimmering scales and acute, angular bones. You must crank your neck to look at her, and you grind your jaw to keep your lips from trembling.

This, you think, is what all of it had been for: all of your lessons and ceremonies and late-night dance practices. Perhaps even your own conception. Born and raised to get the only thing the great families of the Seven Kingdoms do not have – dragons. It doesn’t matter which. Power is power, and one breath from either Dreamfyre or Vhagar would leave but a charred shape of you on the floor.

You taste dirt and blood on your tongue, but your features set into grim determination. The leather is uncomfortable and it scathes your skin, but you try your best to ignore it. I’m no warrior, your mind sounds discouraged, I’m not made for this. But your dread hardly matters, if at all. It’s their world and their rules, and the Targaryens have never been considerate.

The keepers help you up, and as you climb, Aemond extends his hand for you to take. Whether he feels the quiver of your body or not is hardly a concern—the beast rumbles beneath you, and one wrong move and you may fall and injure yourself, perhaps incurably. You keep your eyes strained downward anticipating any sudden shift or warning of Vhagar’s discontent. It never comes.

Plopped onto the saddle in front of Aemond, you feel his chest hit your back; silken hair frays in the sides of your vision, and his chin dips to touch your shoulder, “You best hold on tight.” You hear the smirk in his voice more than see it, and your fingers clench around the reigns so tightly they go numb. His arms cage around your waist, “Would you like to steer her?”

“Aemond.” You hiss.

“Surely you know the way to your own home better than I.”

Sunfyre takes off with a gust of wind and a howl; Vhagar stirs beneath you, “I trust your memory, my prince,” You state, “for if you can find my room in the shadows of the night, surely you’ll be able to navigate to Highgarden in broad daylight.”

He stiffens, and the last you hear before take-off is a shout in High Valerian that nearly deafens you.

You feel like something tore out of you and was left with Queen Alicent watching her children fly Reach-ward—your stomach drops and you feel sluggish and heavy, as if the ground was calling back to you. The wind tears at you and it’s so strong that it makes your eyes water and lips frost; in daze, you fall into Aemond’s embrace. He’s mercifully silent about holding your weight. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed it.

The dragons dance and weave through the clouds. Dew collects on your armour and your nose and it’s so cold you barely catch your breath—but then the vistas open, great plain fields and far off mountains soaked in sunlight, the castles and halls of the Red Keep and the maze of the city all minuscule, toy-like, as if made from clay and wax. The world seems to fit in the palm of your hand. Momentarily, you lift it, as if to touch that great expanse, and you laugh, bell-like and wondrous.

“Told you!” Heleana shouts through the noise of flapping wings, “You needn’t be afraid, sister!”

You flash her a smile before Dreamfyre dips and rushes to catch up to Aegon. The journey continues for hours before the first stop. You ride along with the sun, and when night falls, you slumber in the grassy fields under the starry sky, and take flight once more when day breaks.

Its high noon and tears have dried in the creases of your eyes. Your muscles are stiff and aching and your arms and thighs sting from the imprints of fine leather. Before you, the alabaster towers of Highgarden manifest and grow larger. You lean in as your skin prickles with anticipation – finally, after years of playing at court, you are home.

Yellow-violet wild-flowers swim in your vision. Rose-vines cling to sturdy, ivory stone and sling from windowsills—the air is tinted with pollen, and the ground underneath your feet has never been so unsteady. A flock of servants and soldiers greet you in the outskirts of the city, and the girls hold your arms and all you can see are their grinning faces and flushed cheeks as they dote on you.

“Oh, my lady, Gods be good, you poor, poor woman—“

“—your hands, oh, gracious be the Seven!” One aches once she pulls off you glove.

“—and your hair—“

“—everyone has already gathered awaiting your return—“

“—you must feel faint, my lady, please, away with us—“

“Someone fetch the honey-wine! What had the royal cooks been feeding you—“

“—and the rose-water! Oh, I dread to think—”

“---prepare the oils! This way, my lady—“

“—come, come please, mind your step—“

Aegon’s hearty laugh does little to distract them from their mission. They seat in you a plush, velvety chair in the shade of a white linen tent, and they are quick to fetch the brushes and silk cloths wet with warm rose water and dab fragrant oils under your jaw. Helaena is soon seated beside you, and she’s much more receptive to the loving touches of the maids. They wipe the sweat off of her forehead and rouge her cheeks, fix her braids and help her pick a dessert from the assortment of buns, tarts, pies, glossed, syrupy candy, and melted chocolate cups.

The princes watch the scene unfold with varying states of amusement—Aegon seems ready to burst from laugher and Aemond does not seem to be affected at all, save for the brow he had raised once one of the maids remarked about the stench. It pervades, the smell of dragon, of warm blood and sweat and torn flesh, and it seems to cling to your skin no matter how many oils the maids rub into it. They are dissatisfied with such and entrance, and regard the Targaryens and their large pets with cautious, bleary eyes and pouted lips.

It must seem so silly to the princes, this exuberant greeting. But they fail to understand where they are. Helaena giggles as she sips wine mixed with honey; the girls brush her hair, the pointy edges of golden pins shining when caught in light. One word from you and the maids would slip something into the drink or the powder that coats the princess’ cheeks; weave poison into her robes, or the guards, with a raise of your hand, would slit their throats now or when they slept.

They’re in the court of roses, now. They hold no power here. No one outside the Reach does.

Once the servant girls decide that you’re presentable, a carriage of refined wood and silver ornaments rolls around. They lead Helaena to it, holding her hands and smiling at her words, though you know they likely do not understand what she’s saying. You seldom do, as well. Prince Aegon takes a seat by his wife, already nursing his second cup and entertained without end, delighted by such attention.

A guard brings you a steed, white as snow and smooth as satin, the finest horse in our stables, he says. It’s a lovely mare, and you gently run your hand down its snout. You smile, and it’s just a tad happier than it usually is, “She’s beautiful. Thank you.”

You mount her easily, and this saddle is much more confortable. “Will you not join us in the carriage, my betrothed?” Aemond questions.

You glance at him, “In full armour? I think not. We shall speak more in the castle. After the ceremonies, that is.”

“I should like to ride a horse as well, then.”

“Why? Haven’t had enough of your dragon?”

He grins, though you’re entirely certain he’s mocking you, “I only think it wise that husband and wife should meet the kind people of Highgarden alongside one another. Or would you disagree?”

The guards and stable-hands turn away from Aemond’s prompting look and seek your guidance instead. Bored, you comment, “Get him a horse.”

“Right away, my lady.”

The gates part to the sound of trumpets. The carriage rolls in first, and then you follow along with Aemond, who, despite getting what he had wanted, seems personally slighted by the act of your servants. Petals dance in the air and coat the road underneath the wheels of the carriage. The noise is deafening—people are clapping, waving, celebrating and singing, with their flowers and cups held high over their heads. The royal family rejoices at such reverence, but you know, and it’s a prideful inkling in your chest that these crowds had gathered for you.

You, only daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, you, wonderful lady Tyrell, you, princess-to-be in the wake of your name day have returned home. To them it would seem no different than as if you had returned from war. The twin dragons, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, take to the sky. The crowd screams in delight at the display. As you weave through the roads leading up to the castle, you don’t stop smiling.

Past the blooming gardens and twinkling fountains, bakeries and shops of finest silks, smithies and jewellers and ripe orchids next to stained glass Septs. High ranking lords and ladies gather by the castle, and your path is paved by yellow roses. There’s music, fragments of sonnets lost to the rhythmical sound of drums, and the air is tinted with so many fragrances that it makes your head spin.

You dismount and dip your head in greeting before entering the castle you grew up in. The hall is lined with soldiers bearing the Tyrell crest and only marginally quieter than outside. The painted ceiling is just as you remember it – vivid and detailed, a depiction of the mythical reign of the first King of the Reach. It’s all gold and ivory and intricate carvings on polished wood. The Red Keep pales in the shadow of this opulence.

At the very end of the hall you spot your father sat in his seat, not unlike a throne. Beside him stands your mother, smothered in her silks and shawls and great luminescent pearls. She’s smiling to herself in the same way she has taught you how, and their position in the very back of the room on the chequered floor reminds you of chess.

This is nothing but a game, too.

You halt, and the Targaryen children stop behind you, silenced by the grandiosity of their surroundings.

“Lady Paramount of the Mander, daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South,” The announcer’s voice rings shrill in the silence, “Lady (Name) Tyrell.”

“It’s good to see you again, father.” You voice.

“Along with come the princes of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, the children of the Protector of the Seven Kingdoms: Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena Targaryen.”

Aegon leans over to you with a whisper, “…Not much of an introduction in comparison.”

Welcome to the court of roses, you wish to say. You only smile.

Your name day is but in three months, and if all the lords and ladies that matter wish to attend, the invitations need to be sent out immediately. Your day is spent signing letters and melting in hot steam baths. You return to your room late into the evening.

It is just how you have left it that many years ago, large and spotless, aired out well. You smell flowers, and when you move to your bedside window, from it you see the rose gardens and a fountain in which you would throw coins into with a wish. What was it that you had wished for? You can’t recall, but you know it had been something dear, something that made you hold the coin to your heart and shut your eyes real tight. But what could a girl that has everything even dream of? You suppose you’ll never know.

Despite the rough journey, sleep does not come. When the fires are blow out and the castle is silent, you leave your room. The guards standing watch merely dip their head in acknowledgement—you know that, even if the King himself demanded them to state where you had left, they wouldn’t say a word, not unless your father ordered them. Their loyalty to the crown only goes as far as you.

It would be a fib to admit that when you entered the library, you hadn’t expected to find Aemond there. Perhaps the only reason you only came here is for the fact that you knew he could not sleep, either. You felt it, in your heart of hearts, and you went into the room quietly, almost anxious to disturb the sacred peace that pervades it.

It’s a large space, lined by tall bookshelves full of heavy old tomes. The collection of scrolls and books is almost as impressive as in Old Town, if not more—most of them had been collected from the great ages past, gifts from Targaryen kings or bought from the best treasure hunters in Essos. There are relics fished out the Narrow Sea and sunken treasures; custom busts from the Westerlands and diadems from the Vale; cases of old Dornish armour and even fragments of engraved stone from Sothoryos, or so the legends go. The air smells like dry parchment, ink, and sandalwood. If Aemond were to explore any place in Highgarden, it would be here.

He’s sat by a large table with a book in hand, and he has changed out of his coat and leather into pale linen robes. The flickering light paints strange shadows on his face, and you must admit that to you, standing there, between the arches, he looks lovelier than anything you had ever seen. His eye lifts to catch you and the book shuts harshly. His jaw moves, and he slowly sets his reading down.

“Out on one of your walks, I take it.” He mutters. You hum, pretend to be interested in a book pressed in leather in vellum. The printed title reads THE HISTORY OF HOUSE TYRELL, “Is this your first stop?”

“The night is young,” You say, not at all troubled by his tone, “and I am home after many years.” You glance at him, “I shall walk where I please.”

He opens the book again, though his eye does not move to skim the pages, “How did it end, by the way?” He says just a tad louder, “With that servant girl in your room.”

“With tea.”

“I heard the taste is quite bitter.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“How curious.”

“Why is that I am prosecuted from a crime I did not commit?” You question, drawing closer, “I don’t understand, Aemond, what had I done to upset you. Should I swear in the Sept for you to believe me? Or take off my clothes so you could check for yourself?”

He pauses mid-turn of a page, and his eye grows wider in the dim light. He turns to you and you smile, satisfied with such a reaction.

“Awfully quick to suggest that, (Name).” He bites, leaving the book once more. He stands, and his anger is made clear by a scowl, “Must you always disrobe yourself to prove the truth?”

“Why, my proposal was most innocent in nature,” You say, “I figured that, seeing as my lips speak only lies, my actions would persuade you to drop this hearsay, since you would be able to see for yourself. Though,” You feign exhaustion with a shrug and a sigh, “I suppose there’s not much to expect when you have only one eye to see now, is there, husband?”

His fingers cage around your wrist and pull, harshly. “Release me at once.” You snarl, trying to break free. His touch burns under the raw imprints left by your armour. Pain shoots up your arm. He does not budge.

You hit his chest, and when he refuses to back down, you hit it again, “I shall have your hand for that.” He says, grasping the other.

“Then take it.” You hiss, “Take it and my tongue, as you had sworn to do on many occasions. Keep on your promise, my prince, for I shall come to think you dishonour your word.” You reel in, glare into his eye, “And what good is a man that does not keep his word?”

He breathes out, his lips quirking with a smile, “As you wish.”

He captures your mouth in a kiss that knocks the air out of your lungs, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you flush against him. Your hands plant on his shoulders, and in retaliation you bite his lip which only serves him to push you to the wall. Your head aches but neither of you let go, limbs tangled and breaths spent, nails clawing at his shirt and his fingers tearing at your dress.

You taste copper and when he pulls away his lips are swollen, the lower bleeding from your bite. You stare at it, transfixed, and when you meet his gaze you feel dizzy for no one had ever regarding you with such desire. He steps back, releases you, and you feel weak in the knees. He wipes the remains of the kiss from his lips with the back of his hand, “…Satisfied?” He asks. His voice is hoarse and your heart leaps faster just so you could hear more of it. Your jaw clenches, lips thinning into a line. He grins, “I take your silence as a resounding yes, then. Do have a good night, Lady Tyrell.”

The celebration of your tenth and eight name day begins well into the morning, with Tyrell banners fluttering in the wind. Heaps of flowers decorate every corner, and even the townies that are not invited to the feast done their best robes in case you would be wandering around. The main hall brews with life once the sun sets beneath the horizon—candles and incense, silk shawls, gold and glass roses, the finest delicacies coin can buy.

The pile of gifts grows larger—from Pentosian rugs made from the richest yarn, pearl encrusted porcelain eggs for jewellery, to amber pins and rings from the Summer Sea. The lords, with their sons and daughters, keep adding to the mass that crams the table. The King, sick as he is, does not manage to hide the awe from his features, “Those are some fine riches.” He tells the Queen.

She smiles, slightly, taking a sip of her drink, “Indeed. Perhaps rivalling the Lannister dowry, even.”

“Your daughter is most beloved.” Says the King to your mother.

“She is, truly,” She agrees, her eyes catching you dancing with a lord from Old Town, “and there had been many that fought for her hand. Many of which had been your cousins, your grace.” This she says to the Queen.

“We figured,” Your father continues, “that it would be best to marry her to someone we know and trust.” He glances at Lord Otto Hightower seated by the Queen.

“And thus, combining our strength and our armies,” Your mother smiles at the King, “and the rich history between our houses. A splendid union, I believe.”

“Aegon would have been a good husband.” The King notes. The said man himself is drowning cups by a table full of ladies from the Vale.

“That we do not doubt.” Your mother chirps, “Only we thought, and we acted in the interested of the crown and its people, that a Prince Targaryen should have a Targaryen wife.”

“My son’s not the king,” Viserys says, “why on earth should it matter?”

Your mother glances at Lord Hightower, “Yet he is the first-born son, and so, privy to tradition.”

“How well said.” The Queen mumbles.

“What is more, your grace,” Lord Otto speaks up, “we have noticed a…growing affection between Lady (Name) and Prince Aemond.”

“Truly, they had always gotten along beautifully.” Your mother remarks.

“And is it not better to wed from love?” Your father proposes.

The King looks to his wife, and he is old, and weary, and he regards her with something akin to sadness, “…I suppose you are right, Lord Tyrell. A marriage born from love,” He holds her hand weakly, and something within Alicent cracks cleanly into two, “is a fine, strong union. I couldn’t have thought of a better idea myself.”

As parents continue their idle chatter, you bow to the lord that had been keeping you on your feet for a while now. The dance is over and you’re spent, and as soon as you lift your head a glass of wine is placed in your hand, one you gulp down greedily. The visitors clap as the musicians tune their instruments. Aegon is whispering to a blushing maiden dressed in pale blue; Helaena is smitten with a Baratheon Lord that keeps suggesting her pastries; Aemond sits alone, watching, his drink grasped tightly in his hand.

Before you catch a break, a Lannister lord saunters over, requesting a dance. You’re much too giddy to deny him. His advances are halted when the King takes a stand, and the hall falls into a hush. He smiles, though it seems more as a grimace, and holds up his cup in a toast, “I wish to say a few words, if the lady of the house permits me.” He begins, and his request is directed at you, one you graciously accept with a shy dip of your head, “Many years ago, I, too, was ten and eight, and not nearly as smart nor as charming as our deeply treasured flower of the court.” The crowd laughs, and your hands land on your beating heart, “It is a privilege, I do think,” He continues, “to call you family, and a great honour to have you wed my son.”

Your eyes flick in Aemond’s direction, only to find him already looking at you.

“Thus I toast to your health and beauty and eagerly look forward to saying yet another speech at your wedding.”

The crowd cheers. You can barely contain your joy. The Lannister lord tries his luck yet again, though this time Aemond replaces him. The former tries to protest but one look and he retreats, frightened. You can’t help but laugh. The musicians strum a tune.

“And here I figured,” You speak, palms aligned with his; you circle one another, at ease, despite in the peripherals of everyone in attendance, “you wouldn’t dance with me.”

“I’m only performing my duties as your husband.”

You snort and spin and your dress fluffs and the ornaments in your hair jingle, “Not yet.”

Somewhere deep down you know you should be angry with him and his coldness, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“But soon.” His hands fall on your waist and he lifts you, “Have you thought much of it? Our wedding.”

“Mother hardly lets me speak a word of anything else.” You state, passing him; you fall a step back, “She’s deeply concerned with the invitations. And seating arrangements.” You comment slyly, as if divulging a great conspiracy.

A smile pinches on the side of his lips, “It’s awfully long, I recon.”

“Every lord and lady worth a coin will be invited. If only to sit outside and watch from afar.”

Your arm slinks around his shoulders and he pulls you close, his nose brushing your cheek, “Do I have a say in this arrangement?” But his voice is missing its usual sarcastic drawl.

He’s light on his feet, refined. You would expect nothing else from a brilliant swordsman, “Only if you wish.” You murmur into his ear.

“Then I should like to wed you alone.” He says as you part, “With no audience.”

“Do you not fancy the Lannister lords?” You raise a brow, “I do think they’re quite funny.”

“I don’t fancy any lords.” He states, “Least of all, the Lannisters.”

You twirl with a laugh, “Then let us invite no one,” You sing, “and let our witness be the moon.”

“Considering how fond our families are of theatrics, I doubt such a thing would work.”

Reunited once again, you stand close as the floor floods with dancers, “I shall not tell if you won’t.” You say, glancing at his lips.

He exhales harshly and lets you go. So ends your dance. Your arm is locked with Helaena’s and you’re spun once more.

The festivities continue long into the night, even after you retire. Drowsy and drunk and barely able to stand, you unclasp the necklaces and lose the gloves, throw it all onto the vanity. Your earrings, then, and at last, the pins and ornaments in your hair, and you see your dazed reflection in the mirror, and you smile to yourself, buzzing. Usually, you would not allow yourself such indulgence, even alone. But there is no one around, and you are ten and eight, and you are young, and beautiful, and happy.

And absolutely wine-drunk. Aegon made sure of the fact.

Incense curls into white smoke. Your room drowns in candle light.

The door slowly creaks open and you startle, heart skipping a beat when a tall, slender figure enters and shuts it behind him. Aemond is still in his festive robes, though his shirt is unbuttoned, and his hair is frazzled from the wind. He briefly marvels at the pinks, greens, and lavenders of your room. Such soft colours.

“You should not be here.” You say, though it’s hardly a request to leave.

“Your dogs made my journey quite a hassle.” He says, voice rasp, thoughtful. He’s referring to your guards, “One was most adamant to not let me through.” There’s a note of warning in his tone.

You smile, tilt your head, “They have a sworn duty to protect me.”

“He swayed my hand.”

You quirk a brow, “Surely you didn’t hurt the pup?”

He hums, approaching, “As I said,” but when close enough, he doesn’t move to touch you, “He swayed my hand.”

“I shall need to have a talk with my father, then.” You remark, “For if only one tried to defend my honour, we have little use for the rest that did not.”

His hand lands on the side of your jaw—it’s rough from training, yet all the more pleasant. “I thought you stuck to your quarters on the hour of the owl.” You murmur.

His gaze jumps between your eyes, “You know very well that I do not.” He admits, “Where were you, that night?”

“Out to see my mother.”

“Why?”

You gulp, “I couldn’t sleep. I waited for you, but you never came.”

“I did.” He says, “But you were already gone by then. Why not tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t have.”

“You hurt me, you know.” You tell him.

“And I fear that if you marry me,” His thumb caresses your cheek, “I may hurt you yet.”

You smile, “That is a risk I am willing to take. Only if you promise to never be so harsh with me again.”

“I am unworthy of you.”

Your lips, once again, grace the ragged skin of his scar, “You’re a worthy prince, I know‘t.”

He kisses you again, though it’s soft this time, tender, and you can taste the wine in his mouth. His arms snake around your waist and your tangle into his hair, carding through it.

“I have craved your mouth,” He murmurs as he breaks away, peppering kisses down your neck, “for a long time. As a man in the desert craves cool water. And now that I have you,” Once you’re face to face again, your fingers gently pull at his eye-patch, “How could I ever think to let you go?”

“Then don’t.” You whisper, and finally, he’s unmasked; the leather falls to the floor, forgotten, and the prettiest emerald you had even seen glimmers in candlelight.

“Is that what you want?”

“It is what I had always wanted.”

He kisses you again, and it is as if you are back in the library, no longer fighting the passion that grew over the years. His hand sweeps over the vanity and all of its continents fall to the floor, though neither of you care enough to part. And as you’re seated, legs parted, and his warm hands working on the knots in your corset, the party continues with music and howls of joy. The visitors dance and wine is spilled and the moon shines through the clouds, illuminating a shooting star.

But they feast on foals at dawn.

The Red Keep quakes with a wail. In one wing, Helaena is crumbled to the floor, screaming, pressing her dead child to her chest as if her beating heart would wake him.

On the other side of the castle, you watch as first sunlight casts on the cradle drenched in blood. Maids buzz around you and cry, and all you can do is stare at the forming puddle on the polished tiles before you fall to your knees, your fingers gripping at your stomach. Your girl, your only one, long awaited and beloved, dead before her first name day.

The Gods are cruel and war is kind to no one. You don’t recognise the sound that leaves your lips. You hardly comprehend the pain. There are hands pulling at you but all you can see is the blood. How red it is, and how much it looks like fire in the light.

Fire and blood, have you not lost enough?

FIRE & BLOOD, EXCERPTS FROM THE CHAPTER “FLOWER OF THE COURT”

Princess (Name) Targaryen, nee Tyrell, Lady of Highgarden, was the only daughter of the Lord Tyrell and his lady wife. She came to court young in preparation to marry Prince Aegon II as a conspiracy to become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, as concocted by the shared interest to unite the forces between the Tyrell and Hightower families. The circumstances as to the switch between the princes is unknown, though it is said that Prince Aemond and, then Lady, (Name), were deeply in love and had requested to marry. […] Their friendship was solid and love unwavering, and it said that they got along well as children and were even closer as adults.

[…] Princess (Name) was kind and deeply beloved by the court and peasantry alike, and she is said to have loved her people in return. Her selflessness is, to this, day, remembered, and a garden of the best flowers from the Reach has been tended to in the Keep in her honour ever since […].

[…] with the death of Prince Lucerys […] came the death of Prince Jaehaerys, the heir to the Iron Throne, and Princess Visenya, daughter of Princess (Name) and Prince Aemond Targaryen. The deaths of the children took a terrible toll on the Greens and greatly weakened their resolve. […].

Soon after the dance began, Princess (Name), along with numerous servants and her mother, died in the siege led by Prince Daemon Targaryen. Prince Aemond Targaryen did not find out of her passing till […].

And so ended the summer of Princess (Name)’s reign and came to the winter of her wake. Her father, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South, remarried shortly after, though it is said that he never recovered from the death of his daughter and lady wife.

notes: ty everyone for such a warm & loving response from everyone regarding this fic <3 i unexpected fell in love w it & i’m so glad to see that u have, too! this chapter was supposed to feature like 10 more things, but i couldn’t add all of that since then a) it would be too long, b) narrative wise, it would drag on & not make sense. i might write some one shots regarding these two, though ^_^ thanks again, everyone! can’t wait to see my babygirl in season 2

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #game of thrones #imagine #imagines #got x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #aemond one eye #angst #autumn features 2022

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