#first fic kinda nervous!!

[closedownregulus]

Prompt: Feb 14th - Lips | 1183 words | @jegulus-microfic part two , three and four :)

Barty Crouch is an idiot. The first time James came to this conclusion he was only 11 years old and Barty was refusing to give him back his football cause “football is not for losers, weirdo”, since then, the thought crosses his mind from time to time – Barty Crouch is an idiot. Not only an idiot, but also stupid, not only fucking stupid, but also deadass ugly, not only ugly, he is also an arrogant piece of shit, not only that, he’s also a- argh, James could go on and on about all of Barty Crouch’s flaws, he could go for hours, days, damn, even weeks if someone gave him the time of day to do so. Honestly, he can’t think of one good thing to say about the guy, nonetheless, Regulus’ been kissing him senseless for the past 7 minutes – not that James is counting or anything – seeming fucking dead set on finding Barty’s hidden qualities, if he has any, in the inside of the boy's mouth. Not that James cares that his best friend’s baby brother has been snogging the most annoying man to ever walk earth for 7 minutes and 36 fucking seconds, like they´re stuck in a game of 7 minutes in heaven or something, or, more accurately to James, 7 minutes and 49 seconds in the deepest pit of hell – not that he’s counting (whatever).

Part of him, the hopeful part, is kind of holding on to the idea that this is some weird kind of practical joke Regulus is playing on Barty, he knows James' football story, maybe that’s the way he’s found to revenge him, making Barty fall in love with him and then leaving the guy tormented by the memory of a kiss with a boy he’ll never be able to have playing in loop in his head. Part of him, the protective part, hates that fucking Barty Crouch has even the memory of a kiss to play in loop in his head, part of him wants to yank it off. Part of him, ugh, part of him is scared that Regulus is not some boy Barty can’t have. Part of him – the possessive, petty and kinda insane part – hates that it’s Barty instead of James, who has known Regulus for years, he’d know what to do to make him feel good, he’s sure he’d figure out the right buttons to push in a matter of seconds. Instead, it’s another person in what should be his place, touching Regulus in places James never will, running his tongue over his lips and tasting Regulus in ways that James will never be able to – he hates to think about the sounds that he’s dragging out of Regulus, sounds that he’s getting to hear, swallow, save for later. Fuck. James might kill the fucking guy.

It’s not like James wants to be in Barty’s place - or whatever, it’s more of a protective big brother's best friend thing, he’d rather kill himself than actually kiss Sirius’ baby brother, it’s literally the most disgusting thought that could ever cross his mind ever, literally. Which, if he’s being totally honest, it does from time, but it only causes him to experience the deepest feeling of disgust, he can literally feel his stomach doing weird loops and stuff, which can only be translated to pure and utter repulse, literally. It’s not like it’s a recurring thing or anything, it’s just that he’s a fucking 17-year-old, of course the idea of kissing people he’s always hanging out with is gonna come to him out of fucking nowhere. And like, Regulus does have this freakish pink lips that look really soft and it's kinda hard to not stare at them when he's been going on and on for hours about some book he's recently read, specially when he keeps biting his lower lip every five minutes before saying the next sentence. Not that the thought crosses his mind in a weird, out of ordinary, creepy constancy or anything, really. It's just, you know, your ordinary 17 year old boy next door normal amount of thinking about kissing your best friend’s brother – which he doesn’t by the away, just, rarely, sometimes, in a daily basis, rarely.

The point is, James is Sirius’ best friend, and Regulus is Sirius’ baby brother, James remember him as a toddler, with his big grey eyes and messy dark hair all over the place, so of course he’s gonna be concerned about Regulus’ well being and not want him to snog some dumbass just cause he found the free time to do so. He wants Regulus to be with someone that is worthy of him, not that James can think of anyone that managed to meet the criteria so far, or that ever will. Well, if he stops to think about it, in an ideal world Regulus would grow old alone and a virgin, but is that really so bad? James will visit him everyday and they’ll play videogames and do star wars marathons. Fuck it. He’ll even listen to Regulus talk about his pretentious books and let him put his depressing emo music, he already does that all the time anyway, he might even sing some of the lyrics that he’s already learned from having to listen to it every time they hang out. Well, and if from time to time Regulus happens to feel kinda alone and horny, James would even be ok to helping him out with that, you know, in the sole interest of keeping him away from losers. If that’s what it takes to save Sirius from having to endure life as the brother in law of some dumb, ugly idiot, James doesn’t mind sacrificing himself for his best friend, call him a fucking altruist if you will.

James bets Barty Crouch has never touched a single episode of Star Wars, or a book in that matter, maybe he can’t even read anything with more than fifty pages or pay attention to any movie that's longer than one hour. Also, he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’ll be able to appreciate Regulus’ music and try to actually understand and connect with the lyrics, which is the most important part to Regulus, he’ll probably try and change subjects every time Regulus tries to explain his interpretation. Basically, James is pretty sure they don’t even have anything in common to talk about, they won’t even be able to have a proper conversation! What are they gonna do? Just kiss the whole time they’re together? Every single minute without stopping so they can avoid awkward silence breaks? Ha.

The thought makes James want to instantly puke.

He hates this party, but he doesn’t want to, actually, he can’t, leave Regulus here with this idiot to do to him whatever the hell he pleases out of James sight. Fuck. He doesn’t even want to think about that. He hates absolutely everything that’s happening right now, but, most of all, he hates Barty Crouch. The reason? Barty Crouch is an idiot.

And he stole James’ football.

#jegulus #jealous james potter #dead gay wizards #james potter #barty crouch jr #regulus black #jegulus microfic #alternate universe #english is not my first language! #it's my first time posting anything I write and I'm kinda nervous #bare with me #wrote the whole thing whilst listening to disintegration by the cure so it turned out more angsty than I expected #light angst #repetitive wrong use of the word literally #clueless james potter #starchaser #jegulus fic #sunseeker

[adollrable]

Under the same moon.

✧ summary: where it's your birthday and your boyfriend is on a mission far from home.

✧ cw: female reader x leon kennedy (re4r), fluff, just him being a cutie pie and the boyfiest boyfie ever (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿

✧ wc: 1387

a/n: I'M SCARED, this is my first time writing something COMPLETELY in english so... if something looks kinda silly forgive me 😞 english is not my first language but feel free to give me feedback!

my birthday was two days ago and i kinda want it to write something so, if someone is reading this on their birthday, happy birthday!!! 🤲🏻

11:45 PM. You were pacing around your apartment. Brushing your teeth, doing your skin care routine, pulling out the softest cotton sheets you have at your disposal.

You looked at the calendar that sat on the nightstand next to your bed, your eyes drifting towards the next day's date. Your birthday.

You weren't that excited, the printed number that indicated your day of birth wasn't marked with a red marker that circled it. The date Leon would return was.

Originally, your boyfriend's absence wouldn't interfere with your birthday. He would be with you on your special day. But you thought back to the call you had with him a few days ago, with him trying to get a signal to tell you that he couldn't make it on time and that he was really sorry.

You understand. It doesn't bother you, but you wish he was by your side now.

His job was complicated, and he explained that he couldn't tell you much from it. As far as you know, he's in Spain, rescuing someone. You don't know who, but it must be someone important.

11:55 PM. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until another return to the sun happens for you.

You laid down on your bed, covered by the sheets that hugged your body. You took the pillow that Leon usually uses and wrapped both arms around it, seeking comfort to avoid missing him so much.

Tomorrow would be just another day. Sure, your friends will congratulate you, you will receive calls from your family at extremely early hours of the morning, and you will repeat "thank you, I appreciate it" like a broken recorder for each call and message.

Gifts don't matter, much less a cake, or a party. The only thing you want is for the love of your life to return soon and you can be together.

Rolling between thoughts, you were able to fall asleep.

12:00 PM. Finally your birthday.

Your cellphone vibrated with every message that one of your friends or your family sent you congratulations. The light from the device breaks into your not-so-deep sleep, since not even ten minutes had passed since you closed your eyes.

Sheet off you, you stopped hugging the pillow and with a soft grunt reached for your phone, checking notifications with squinted eyes.

You lowered the brightness of your cell phone because of that annoying burning in your eyes and now with more comfort, you wandered around the notifications you had, until one caught your attention completely.

Leon ♡: "Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much."

A smile began to form on your face, and without hesitation you unlocked your cell phone to answer him.

Thanks, Lee :( I miss you and I love you

You weren't expecting a response, after all, he must be busy, right? In Spain it must have been your birthday hours ago, but he still bothered to wait for it to come where you are.

Leon ♡: I miss you too, how have you been?

You didn't think he would have time to respond, but you also didn't want to spend three days without hearing from him, so you took advantage of the opportunity.

I've been fine... I haven't done much, just work and back home :( how about you?

Leon ♡: Tired, but all good. Missing you most of all the time. Tell me, have you done anything interesting?

Does missing you count? :[

Leon ♡: Yeah, it counts, sweet thing. I want to tell you something, okay? But let me call you first.

The fact that he was going to call you made you feel good, he may not be with you on your birthday and he is supposed to arrive days later, but one call is enough to lift your spirits.

You were going to answer but your screen lit up with your boyfriend's contact name and the buttons to answer or hang up the call. You pressed the green button and put it on speaker, placing your phone on your chest with a smile. "Hi..."

"Hello, birthday girl." His voice... You could spend hours listening to him speak, even if he was talking about the most boring topic in the world, you would pay attention from start to finish. "How's my baby doing?"

You giggled, there really wasn't much to say, your birthday had started less than an hour ago, "No crazy, exciting party... My friends have congratulated me, as has my family. My parents must be asleep at this time, so I guess when they wake up they'll call me."

"Yeah, they must be resting at this time, huh. You should, too. It's only because of your birthday that you stay up so late." He answered and you could hear his smirk over the phone, making you blush slightly.

"Of course not... I can sleep late whenever I want." And even if you wanted to, you know it's not possible. Once you get home from work and settle into your boyfriend's arms to sleep, you fall deeply into the arms of Morpheus. It's hard not to sleep well when you have a giant boyfriend pillow. "I can't sleep without you here."

"I know, baby, I know... I can't sleep without my sweet girl hugging me like a damn teddy bear." He chuckled and you did it too. Both of you fell into a small silence, it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. "Hey, baby?" He began, as you settled into the sheets.

"Mhm?" You asked, as you looked at the moon through your bedroom window. Her brilliance seeped in and was strong and radiant.

Watching the moon always gave you a certain comfort, knowing that no matter where Leon is, both of you will always be under the same moon and firmament of stars.

A laugh came through the speaker of your cell phone, the same laugh that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Did you see how beautiful the moon is?"

You smiled, humming a small "mhm" in response, before adding, "Yeah... It's full and very pretty. I wish you were here to watch it together."

Leon let out a small sigh, "Yeah, me too, what if you ask the moon for that?" You chuckled this time. It was a silly thing to do, but, why not?

"Like a birthday wish? But if you know it then it won't come true." Leon could hear the pout in your voice, and he smiled to himself. "Maybe there will be an exception this time." He murmured. "Come on, babe. Do it."

With your eyes closed, you let out a sigh, wishing with all your being that Leon could be by your side as soon as possible, and after a few seconds, you heard him speak, "Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I did... Time to wait I guess." Your gaze met that radiant crater that was seen in its maximum splendor, until something began to click in your head.

"Did you see how beautiful the moon is?" There is supposed to be approximately six hours between your location and Spain, so it was impossible for Leon to see the moon shining in its entirety, but you tried not to give too much thought to the matter, since the moon can also be seen during the day, although at lower exposure.

But if he talked about the moon... And how big it looked... That could mean that maybe he...

"The stars look very bright too." He added after.

"But, you know what I think is more bright?" He began, while his footsteps were heard on the cement, signaling that he had begun to walk.

Until he stopped.

"The brightest thing I'm going to see is your face when you look out the window."

That made you get up from your bed, phone in hand while with clumsy steps thanks to the sheets rolled up between your legs, you reached the window and realized everything.

He is here.

And when he saw that look light up on your face, he knew that the moon was nothing compared to how radiant you looked. "Hey, birthday girl."

It seems like the moon was the perfect alibi for Leon to sneak in and surprise you.

Or simply the moon heard your wishes, and fulfilled them on your special day.

a/n: OKAY... I'M STILL NERVOUS I PUT THIS ON THREE DIFFERENT GRAMMAR CHECKERS BUT I'M STILL AFRAID i suck at writing tbh but this idea was scratching my brain and i thought Hmm why not SO!!! i hope y'all like it :] i appreciate likes and reblogs annnnnd comments i love comments!!! feel free to give me tips to be better at writing or something THAT'S ALL BYE-BYE 🤲🏻

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy fic #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy re4r #um... yeah first time writing KINDA NERVOUS #i love this guy

[seungified]

let the light in ౨ৎ lee heeseung + fem reader genre best friends to lovers wc 1.02k warnings kissing , mention of food.

heeseung drove up to your house at exactly 7:30 pm, smile plastered on his face as he honked the horn. his smile somehow grew even bigger as he watched you stumble out of your house and into the passenger seat of his car.

“in a rush?” he giggles as he hands you the coffee he bought for you. you roll your eyes and take the coffee.

“shut the hell up, i hate you,” you take a sip of the coffee, it was your exact order, of course heeseung would remember.

“you love me.” heeseung smiles as he pulls out of your driveway, reminding you of the internal conflict that you were facing. heeseung was absolutely right, you do love him, but will you ever admit to it? hell no.

when you had problems, heeseung was the first person you’d run to ever since becoming friends with him back in 9th grade, but you couldn’t ever bring this one up to him.

it was right after you left for college that you realized your feelings for heeseung. you were sitting with your roommate, minjeong in a starbucks and you somehow got onto the topic of high school friends.

“i had a few close friends,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. “but i was probably closest with my friend heeseung.”

“you talk about him a lot,” the other girl says, giggling and raising her brows. “you sure he’s just a friend?”

“what?” you say furrowing your brows. “me and hee are just friends.” you laugh.

minjeong keeps talking about her high school friends, but you aren’t really listening. you keep thinking about what she said, replaying your memories with heeseung. all those times those old people mistook him as your boyfriend, all the times you’d be upset when he would mention another girl, the way heeseung made you feel was never just friendly.

a week later you laid awake in your bed, still thinking about your new realization.

“minjeong,” you whisper. “are you up?”

“yeah, i cant sleep.” she says, rolling over to look at you.

“i think i’m in love with heeseung.” minjeong just smiles and turns back over.

“i fucking knew it.”

you giggle at the memory. minjeong is still your roommate back at your university and reminds you to confess your feelings almost every single time you mention visiting your hometown.

“what’s so funny?” heeseung asks, snapping you back into reality.

“nothing, i was just thinking about my roommate.” you say, finishing off your cup of coffee.

“i always miss you so much when you leave.” heeseung says, catching you slightly off guard, heat rises too your face.

“i-i miss you too.” you stutter out, smiling nervously.

“i kinda hate that you go to collage so far away, i miss sneaking over to your house at night.” heeseung says, you start laughing. “what? i miss our movie nights!” you both are laughing now.

“well then why don’t we do a movie night tonight? just like when we were in high school?” you suggest, heeseungs face lights up.

after driving around for a little over twenty minutes, you stop at a convenience store for snacks and then head to heeseungs place.

you walk into the apartment that you had become pretty familiar with all the times you’ve visited in the past year. you loved heeseungs apartment because it’s always so comfortable and warm when it starts to get cold. you flop on the couch in the spacious living room.

“hee, i missed your couch so much! it’s so comfortable.” heeseung smiles and sits next to you on the couch, putting his arm around you, your cheeks flush pink. you guys eventually decide on watching train to busan, getting comfortable beside each other.

in the middle of the movie you start to get tired. “hee, can i lay on your lap?” you nervously ask, looking at him.

“yeah of course, get comfortable.” heeseung says, lightly pushing your shoulder into him a little more, you lay down on his lap. soon enough, heeseung’s hands are playing with your hair, and you fall asleep.

when you wake up, heeseung is smiling down at you. “hey sleepyhead,” he says, you groan in response. “i wanna show you something, get up.”

you both get up and heeseung leads you out of his apartment and eventually out onto the roof. he takes you to the edge and tells you to look out. off into the distance, you can see the now small lights of seoul from heeseung’s apartment.

“wow hee, this is beautiful.” you smile. your mind screams at you, tonight is the night!! tell him!!

“everytime i miss you a little too much, i just come up here and look at seoul to try and remind myself that you aren’t that far away.” your mind can’t take this anymore, you turn to heeseung,

“hee, i really need to tell you something.” you say, the wind blowing your hair perfectly and the light of the moon shining on you making you look dreamlike to heeseung.

“me too honestly.”

“you can go first.” you say, smiling.

“y/n… you’re my best friend,” you nod. “but i cant help but feel like we both want to be more than best friends.” you don’t know what to say, is heeseung saying he feels the same? “what i’m trying to say is that i am in love with you y/n, and i have been since the day we met in 9th grade.” you can’t help the tears that flow from your eyes as you take in what he told you. “it’s ok if you don’t-”

you quickly cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss, a kiss you didn’t even know you’ve been waiting for 8 years. you smile as you pull away from him.

“i’m in love with you too heeseung.” you both smile and heeseung pulls you into a tight hug.

“i’m so glad you feel the same,” he says. “you trying to watch another movie?”

“always.”

#⋆ hee ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ #xo eva ˙ᵕ˙ #i need best friend hee NEOWWWWW #first work kinda nervous #enhypen drabbles #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha heeseung #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung fic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #divider by v6que

[death-draws]

In the brief time Jason had been sitting here, he was already starting to feel better. He felt like a capybara in an onsen full of yuzu. And duck candles.

this line blasted this image in my head so thank you @noir-renard lol

[ID Jason Todd  is sitting in water with a capybara. Jason looks very pleased and has a duck candle with a cowboy hat on his head. The capybara has an orange. END ID] 

#this is from if you give a bat a burger by cielle_noir on ao3 btw! #dc x dp #tangentially in that its a crossover fic #ive never made fanfic fanart before im kinda nervous lol #iygabab #batburger au #i think today was the first day of dpxdc week so this is also sorta something for that haha #EDIT forgot my ID lol

[winwinboo]

ty soft hours

You move swiftly in the kitchen, cleaning up while the muffins are still in the oven, hands still wet from washing the dishes and a soft tune playing on your phone. you don't get startled when lean arms wrap themselves around your middle. It's natural actually, like second nature you lean into Taeyong's embrace, his head fitting perfectly on the crook of your neck. 

“Thought you were sleeping” you break the silence, head leaning into his, he breathes softly before speaking “I wanted to be around you” It's intimate,  not a single ounce of shame in his tone, it's love.

Taeyong is love in every word, every hug, laugh, kiss, every meal cooked and little pick me ups from your favorite coffee shop, he’s love in the form of a person. Love in a way you never thought you would be able to have, maybe deserve it… but he loves you naturally, loud or quiet, softly, tender and meaningfully.

It's my first time posting on this account im kinda nervous tbh

#lee taeyong fluff #nct fluff #tayeong x reader #taeyong x you #its my first time posting kpop fics im kinda nervous #nct drabbles #nct fic #nct127 fanfic

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT. #i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED.. #ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT. #i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it. #and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!! #JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!! #GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes. #but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way. #but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment. #TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

[salty-an-disco]

Symptoms of Having a Physical Body

Having your own body comes with a lot of unexpected—or maybe he should’ve expected them?—symptoms.

For example: the fact that every sound now travelled directly to his ears.

OR:

Hero finds out what a sensory overload is, and Contrarian decides they both could go for a walk.

Hello. Here’s the result of my ContraHero brainrot. BYE!

#gonna see if I can do something with the Broken + Contrarian plot bunny in my brain now #Slay the Princess #stp spoilers #stp fanfic #Voice of the Hero #Voice of the Contrarian #ContraHero #stp voices #Sal Writes #this is my first (more conventional) fic in this fandom and I’m kinda nervous aksmksmdjrnd #Heathens AU

[adrift-in-thyme]

CHAPTER 8 IS UP

The Chain enjoy a day at the bazaar. Meanwhile, Link grows worried for his brothers' safety. Especially Sky's.

#hehe the plot is thickening #i'm getting nervous tbh #cause most of my decisions during the planning stage are being finalized now #and i've got to actually make them kinda make sense XD #but i'm very excited too #we're arriving at the second part of the arc #and growing closer to that climax i'm so eager to write #linked universe #linked universe fic #first meets the chain au #lu first #lu sky #lu chain #chapter update #trin writes

[wanderingcas]

The Common Hours

a dean/cas story [amensia cas, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, protective dean] Six months ago, Castiel lost all memories of himself and his past. His life revolves around the only things he’s ever known: spending time with his new friend, Charlie, and photographing things in the world that he’s forgotten. But when a man who he doesn’t remember rolls into his life with haunted (and oddly familiar) green eyes that linger on him too long, the life—and person—he thought he knew is thrown into chaos.

taglist - let me know if you want to be added or removed for chapter updates!

@valleydean @brangaene @approximate-to-spherical-cow @huckleberrycas @sobernatural @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @bloodydeanwinchester @darling-im-the-queen-of-hell @sunshineandwings86 @naidile @lovercas @inacatastrophicmind @whelvenwings @woefulcas @sortasirius @procasdeanating @casblackfeathers @rauko-is-a-free-elf @wigglebox @alivedean @saminzat @ne8ula @synonymouslyyours @of-magic-and-monsters @peanutbutterjelly-pie

#destiel fic #destiel #the common hours #amensia cas au #WELL HERE IT IS!!!!! #I AM VERY NERVOUS VERY EXCITED #HAPPY FIRST DAY OF FALL KINDA

[smilesrobotlover]

Kori committing crimes against Rusl

#I wish the first image wasn’t so cropped dbksbssk #but yeah #it happens #smiles rambles #watch me express how nervous I am to upload this fic and then post this immediately after #tonal whiplash fr #it’s my middle name #I am kinda glad that first image is cropped actually #cuz that drawing of Rusl is HORRENDOUS

[aceghosts]

“i don’t have time for distractions right now.” for Rooney x Yori if your taking prompt requests??? 🩷

Thank you for sending this prompt in! I think this prompt was supposed to be angsty, but my muse took me in a rather smutty direction. So...uh...yeah.

[Prompt List]

Summary: Rooney makes an off-handed comment about their boyfriend being a distraction. Yorinobu takes that as a personal challenge. Title comes from Måneskin's HONEY (ARE U COMING?). Words: 3.9k words Content Warnings: MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT! Lots of flirting, teasing, sexual tension, and making out. Also, Rooney is AFAB and nonbinary, not a woman. Nonbinary is not fucking women-lite. (Mutuals and followers, that comment is not directed at you. All of you are awesome.) Towards the end of the fic, I need to give a warning for explicit sexual content, specifically: Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, Light Body Worship, Blow Jobs/Oral Sex, Safe word usage, vaginal fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, and Unprotected Sex. Really, this is just porn with a light plot draped over it. I am going to give a light warning for potential Dom/Sub overtones to be on the safe side, but in my mind, Rooney and Yori are switches, if either of them could be called that. If you feel you need more warnings, I would also double check the AO3 version, but I think I covered everything here. Author’s note: This fic takes place in the timeline after Rooney and Yorinobu get together. When specifically? Haven't really nailed that down. Also, this is the first time I've posted an honest to god smutfic on my blog. Yay? NSFW Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @voidika, @roofgeese, @cloudofbutterflies92, @strangefable @inafieldofdaisies, @derelictheretic, @clicheantagonist, @direwombat, @nightbloodbix

AO3

“I missed you.”  Their wonderfully distracting boyfriend wraps his arms around their waist, pressing himself close to their back. Rooney resists the urge to lean back into him, crossing their arms over their chest. He places soft kisses along their jawline, Rooney letting out a contented hum. “I thought about you all day. Did you think about me?”

Yorinobu lays it on thick, clearly having thought about how the two would spend their evening. Unfortunately, duty calls for Rooney. In front of them is a pin board, notes connected with red string and written in Rooney’s indecipherable scrawl, a helpful way to visualize their case. They hope that it will lead them to revelation, a lead that might have been overlooked. “Yorinobu, I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

“Is that what I am? A distraction?” He asks playfully, pressing a kiss to the corner of their jaw, “You should teach me a lesson for being so distracting.” 

Dammit, it almost works on them. Under their tough, cold exterior, Rooney was a softie for the people they loved, especially Yorinobu, who seemed to delight in it. “Yori, you know I didn’t mean it like that; I really need to focus right now.” Rooney wants to get into whatever trouble he’s cooked up in his head, but their case needs to take priority.

“Understood,” He acquiesces with no hard feelings, “Please promise that you will make time for us tomorrow night. We need to go to the Flores’ party.”

Rooney nods, already having scheduled that as their night off. They would be there for him unless something truly urgent arises. “I promise; I’m all yours tomorrow.”

“Good.” He pulls away from them, Rooney already missing the warmth and comfort of his arms. Taking a few steps, Yorinobu turns to face them. “Rooney?”

“Yes?” Their arms drop to their sides as they face him.

“You have no understanding of how distracting I can be,” He teases, closing the gap between them. Yorinobu cups the back of their neck, pulling Rooney in for a deep kiss. They grab his vest, their head spinning, knees going slightly weak. He pulls away a few seconds later, leaving them desperately aching for more. Yorinobu turns his back to them, and as he leaves, Rooney watches him, wide-eyed with desire. They really wish they weren’t in the middle of a case.

—

Rooney should have known Yorinobu might be planning something when they were getting ready in the bathroom. In front of the mirror, Rooney ties their black tie, a gift from a client whose wife Rooney had found after the NCPD refused to investigate. Yorinobu joins them in the bathroom, leaning against the dark gray granite counter. His eyes closely watch the deft movements of their fingers as Rooney finishes with the tie, smoothing it down against their chest. Smirking, he leans closer, purring, “I love it when you wear a tie.”

They raise an eyebrow in curiosity. Yorinobu takes the tie in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the silky fabric. “Makes it easier to pull me to you,” He tugs the tie gently, pulling Rooney towards him, their faces only inches apart. Yorinobu’s eyes glance down at their lips, his stare lingering for a few seconds. He meets their eyes again, Rooney’s face feeling warm as they swallow in anticipation. “I can also tie you up with it while I am fu-.”

“Yorinobu!” Their tone is sharp, their cheeks burning. They weren’t against the idea, not really caring whether he tied them up or Rooney tied him up. (Rooney had no preference, enjoying both.) Rather, someone had to keep them on track to go to this party. “Please behave. We need to go to this party, remember?” His idea for tonight sounds much better than being around a bunch of woefully out-of-touch rich people. (Present company excluded.) But this would have to wait until after. “You and I can have fun after the party.”

He pouts playfully, letting go of their tie as Rooney smooths it down again. “Afterward.” Sounds like it could be a promise or a threat, and Rooney really hopes it’s the former. His smirk returns as he teases them, “I will have you dragging me home tonight.”

“Sure.” Rooney rolls their eyes, pretending his words have no effect on them.

“I will. I am distracting, and your restraint is not infinite.” He pulls away from them, pushing off the counter with a wink. Yorinobu leaves them alone in the bathroom as Rooney slowly blinks, their brain resetting. A second later, they urge themself to get it together, turning to face the mirror. In the soft golden glow of the bathroom lights, their face bright red, pupils wide.

--

Yorinobu’s flirty behavior continues as the night goes on, giving Rooney no reprieve. Whenever the two had a moment alone, he would flirt with them, dirty little things whispered in their ear. His hands would stray a little lower than they should, ghosting over Rooney’s body. With others, he is on his best behavior, but Rooney catches him with a smirk and a troublesome look in his eyes as if he is plotting his next move. Not that Rooney was complaining, but they were trying to be on their best behavior.

Rooney sighs, happy to have found some food, which would give them an excuse not to talk to people. Hiding in a corner out of sight, Rooney dips a strawberry into the chocolate fondue, taking a bite. Damn, that chocolate tasted good. (Although, they preferred the spicy kind that Yorinobu would bring back from occasional business trips. Rooney could never get enough of that stuff.) “Enjoying yourself?” Yorinobu asks, wrapping an arm around their waist as he pulls them into his side. Where had he come from? He eyes their plate, a mischievous smile on his face. Swallowing, they put down the half-eaten strawberry. What was he up to now? “Chocolate…maybe you could give me a taste.”

They freeze, narrowing their eyes suspiciously. “Yeah…,” Rooney responds, reaching for an uneaten strawberry on their plate.

Yorinobu grabs their wrist. “I asked you to give me a taste.”     

He lets go of their wrist, Rooney deciding to play along against their better judgment. Scooping some chocolate onto their index finger, they hold it out for him. Yorinobu takes their hand, bringing their finger up to his mouth. Sucking on their finger, his tongue swirls around their finger. His eyes never leave their eyes as Rooney’s mouth drops slightly in surprise. Their mind races with thoughts of where his mouth could be put to better use.

With a pop, Yorinobu pulls their finger from his mouth. “Delicious. Do you think I could have another taste? Or perhaps I could give you a taste of something else?” Their mouth drops further at the innuendo, the wheels in their mind spinning uselessly as they try to respond.

“Yorinobu-sama!” He looks over his shoulder, glaring at the person who called his name.

“I need to go,” Yorinobu whispers into their ear, “I hope that distracts you when talking to others.” He releases them, leaving Rooney alone as they try to process what the hell just happened.

—

Entering the fresh night air, Rooney breathes deeply, finding a secluded spot on the balcony, somewhere they could clear their head quietly. Yorinobu occupies their thoughts, their cheeks warming up again. What was he doing tonight? The couple both liked to flirt with each other, but Yorinobu seems desperate to prove something tonight. What it was, Rooney was unsure.

The door to the balcony opens, the sound of the party floating towards them. Turning around, Rooney jumps up on the railing, sitting on it as Yorinobu approaches them with a smile. “I thought I saw you come out here.” Anticipation rises in their chest as Rooney tucks a strand of dark red hair behind their ear.

“Just needed a breather.”

“Is that all?” He asks, his hands resting on their thighs.

Rooney nods. “Yeah,” they let out a sigh, “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“What would that be?”

“Work. You know how I am.”

 “Anything else?” You, Rooney wants to answer, but they have a feeling that is the answer that Yorinobu is fishing for. Yet, they will not say anything until they get an answer. “If work is the only thing on your mind, I need to try harder.”

“What’s that suppo-?” He kisses them hungrily, pushing apart their legs. Yorinobu presses himself flush against Rooney, his hand coming to their waist steadying them. They wrap their legs around him tightly, eagerly returning the kiss. He tastes like the bubbly champagne served at the party with hints of chocolate. He feels so sturdy against them, so good against them. They grip onto his coat, intoxicated from his kiss. He sucks on their bottom lip, Rooney opening their mouth and allowing his tongue entrance. Rooney loses themself in the moment, the rest of the world disappearing around them. All that matters is Yorinobu. All they want is him.

He breaks the kiss, Rooney whining in disappointment. Before they can pull him back in for another kiss, Yorinobu asks, “Am I distracting enough?”

All of a sudden it clicks in Rooney’s mind. Was this really about last night? “Yori, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. I wanted to prove I could be too distracting, even for you.”

They laugh, shaking their head. He is so dorky, but Rooney loves that about him. Giving him a seductive smile, they lean up, mouth near his ear, teasing, “I think I need to drag you home. What was it you said? My restraint isn’t infinite.”

He shivers, excitement in his eyes as Rooney lets him go. Yorinobu helps them off the railing, grabbing their metal hand as soon as their feet touch the ground. He drags them behind him, racing for the AV. Oh, Rooney is looking forward to this.

—

Rooney and Yorinobu stumble out of the AV, hair disheveled and clothes slightly messed. Yorinobu’s maroon shirt is half untucked, while Rooney’s waistcoat had been unbuttoned during the ride. Neither could keep their hands off each other, Rooney diving on Yorinobu the moment the AV door closed. Hand in hand, the pair run down the stairs, from the AV landing pad, towards their apartment. The door slides open, Rooney pulling Yorinobu inside. Yorinobu lets go of their hand, grabbing their waist and spinning Rooney to face him. He kisses them again, Rooney wrapping their arms around his neck. He pushes them up against the wall, forcing his knee between their legs. A soft cry escapes their throat, Yorinobu placing greedy kisses on their neck. It drives them mad, Rooney tilting their head back, letting out a desperate, whine.

“Yori,” they plead, overstimulated, “Need you, please.” Rooney’s head swirls, need and desire clouding out any rational thought. All they can think about is Yorinobu underneath them, breathless, sweaty, and hungry for more. It’s what he deserves for torturing them all night.

He hungrily kisses them, smirking into the kiss as they move away from the wall. Yorinobu breaks the kiss, scooping Rooney up into his arms as they let out a surprised yelp. He carries them to the shared bed, dropping Rooney onto the cream-colored comforter. The bed is soft beneath them as they prop themself up onto their elbows, kicking off their shoes. Yorinobu tosses off his coat, taking his shoes off, before leaning down to capture their lips. The couple fall into each other, Rooney landing on their back. He kisses them deeply, giving Rooney the opportune moment to strike. They roll him over, straddling Yorinobu as he lays on his back, breathless, staring up at Rooney with a mixture of surprise, desire, and excitement.

“I think,” They say, casually tossing off their white suit jacket and black waistcoat, “Someone needs to be taught a lesson for being a tease.” They roll up their sleeves of the button-up slowly before moving to their tie. As they loosen their tie, Rooney catches Yorinobu watching their hands closely, vibrating with anticipation beneath them. Taking their time, Rooney gently tugs on their tie, Yorinobu inhaling a sharp breath. Pulling their tie from their neck, Rooney wraps an end around each of their hands, stretching the tie tautly in front of him. They don’t miss the quiet whine that escapes from Yorinobu, the soft bob of his Adam’s apple. “I remember a certain distraction mentioning my tie earlier….”

“I wanted to tie you up with it,” Yorinobu grins cheekily.

“I think you deserve to be tied up,” They get off him, motioning with their head, “Sit up and put your hands behind your back.”

He quickly complies, sitting up on the end of the bed, hands behind his back. Yorinobu looks over his shoulder at them, eager anticipation written his face. They come to him, reaching for his hands. “If this is too tight or if it starts to hurt,” Rooney starts as they tie his hands together, “Let me know.”

Yorinobu tests the finished knot. “I am fine, and-,” He bats his eyelashes at them, “I know to use our safeword.” Normandy. It wasn’t that Yorinobu or Rooney were into anything extreme, but Rooney liked having one word that either could use in case things got too much even in the tamest of situations.

“Good.” They move, straddling Yorinobu once more, kissing him roughly. Rooney grinds down on his forming erection, Yorinobu groaning as his hips jerk upwards in excitement. They place kisses along his jawline, the faint stubble of a five o’clock shadow tickling their lips. As they move to his throat, Rooney hears his breath catch, trembling beneath them. They kiss along the silver decorative chrome like they’re following a river toward the ocean. Rooney loves his silver chrome, having told him before. They love the way it glints in the sunlight, especially in the soft golden glow of the morning sunlight. It makes him look ethereal, just like it does now in the soft glow of their shared bedroom. When they reach the base of his throat, where it meets his collarbone, Rooney playfully nips him. Yorinobu gasps, his hips jerking upwards again in surprise.

 Rooney’s hand comes to his shirt, undoing the maroon shirt with practiced ease. Yorinobu squirms beneath them, always too damn impatient. Too bad for Yorinobu, Rooney plans to take their time. Perhaps, he will consider this the next time he plans to drive them mad. Rooney pushes his shirt off his chest, sliding down to his elbows. Yorinobu watches them with eager eyes, swallowing hard as Rooney gets off him.

They kneel in front of him, hands on his thighs. Teasing him, Rooney gently rubs his thighs, touch featherlight as his pupils widen. Eventually, they slowly push his thighs apart, coming closer to him. Rooney gets up on one knee, resuming kissing his collarbone. They trail kisses down his chest, paying special attention to any scars, like the small scar on his left side. Left from a stab wound by a Katana in a fight with an Arasaka operative during his time with the Steel Dragons, Rooney presses a soft kiss to the scar, Yorinobu letting out a contented sigh.  

“I love you,” They say, into the soft skin of his abdomen.

“I love you too,” Yorinobu replies, voice heady with pleasure.

They continue downward, getting back on both of their knees, Yorinobu shivering with anticipation. As they get closer to his belt, a dark trail of fuzz on his torso leading downwards, Yorinobu begs, “Please, Rooney, please.”

“All in good time, Yori.” Reaching his belt, as Rooney unbuckles it, he shudders, trying to bite back a moan that eventually escapes. They unzip his pants, pulling his cock free of his boxer briefs and pants. He’s hard already, precum leaking, as Rooney reaches out for him. Yorinobu watches in anticipation, eyes wide, breathing heavily as they take him in their hand. Gently running their thumb over the head, Rooney watches with a smirk as he moans with heady pleasure. They stroke him, Yorinobu trembling with desire. He reacts so well to their touch, a warm feeling coming over Rooney, hunger coursing through them.

Leaning down, they press a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Oh, Rooney…,” the words fall from his lips as they run their tongue slowly up the slit. Rooney takes him into their mouth, swirling their tongue around. With him still in their hand, Rooney sets a lazy pace, fucking with him. Bobbing their head up and down, Rooney strokes him, Yorinobu feeling like putty in their hands. He is lost in the pleasure of their mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good,” He pants as they continue their ministration. His hips gently move in time with their mouth, a restrained motion, careful not to hurt Rooney. Most people assume they’re made of steel, considering the way they take punches, but not Yorinobu. He’s always seen that tender side, always treating Rooney with the softness that the rest of life doesn’t provide. “Faster please…” He begs.

 Instead, they slow their pace down to a crawl, taking an agonizing amount of time with their actions. Although, Rooney knows they are fucking with themself as well, needing him so goddamn badly. “Normandy!”

Rooney immediately stops, pulling their mouth off his cock as they let go, wiping at their mouth. “Yori, are you okay,” They ask, getting up and frantically untying him, “I’m so sorry I-.”

“Don’t apologize,” He rasps, grabbing the collar of their shirt, pulling Rooney in for a rough kiss, their lips crushing against his. When the two pull away, both breathless, he rests his forehead against Rooney’s. “I need you. You take too long.”

They sigh in relief, happy to not have hurt him. “I thought I was teaching you a lesson for being so distracting,” Rooney laughs, as he pulls off his shirt.

“Lesson over,” Yorinobu growls, kissing them roughly again. As he kisses them again, his hands come to their button-up, practically ripping the gold buttons off.

“Careful,” Rooney snarks, “That’s my good shirt.”

“I will buy you more,” He says, pulling their shirt off. “I will even buy some to rip off you.” His hands undo the clasp of their bra, pulling it off.

“Deal.” His hands go down to their pants, hands shaking as he hurriedly unpops the button and unzips their slacks. They allow him to pull them out of their black slacks and boy shorts. Once free, Rooney helps him out of his slacks and boxer briefs, leaving them both in the nude. Yorinobu lightly pushes them back down onto the bed, their dark red hair fanning around them like a halo. He leans over them, one hand propping him up as his other hand trails their thigh. Rooney glances down, his hand trailing closer and closer. They swallow in anticipation, meeting his eyes and holding his stare as he slides a finger in, letting out a soft sigh. Yorinobu breaks the staring game, his eyes wandering over their body as he pumps a finger inside them, decorated with the scars of hard-fought battles that almost killed them. Self-consciousness washes over them, Rooney looking away.

“Rooney, look at me.” They meet his eyes again, as he slides another finger in. It feels good, a pleasurable warmth spreading over them. “You are gorgeous. Allow me to appreciate you.” Rooney fights the urge to cover their face, his corny words working all too well on them. He smirks as their cheeks heat up, increasing his pace. “I think you must have been thinking of me all night.”

They nod, their throat tight, need pooling within them. “I lied,” Rooney rocks against his hand, desperate for him, “It wasn’t work, it was you-.”

Yorinobu swears, sliding his fingers out of them. Rooney lets out a needy whine, propping themself up. He scoots backward, sitting against the headboard with some pillows behind him. He takes his glasses off, placing them on the side table. “On my lap,” Yorinobu commands, motioning for Rooney to come over. Rooney doesn’t waste time, following his order immediately. They hover over his lap, gently taking his cock and holding it in place. His hands grip their hips, fingers digging in. Rooney loves that Yorinobu is holding them like he won’t let go of them.

Slowly, Rooney sinks down onto him, a guttural groan escaping from him. Yorinobu feels so good, so damn fucking good. Rooney loves the way he feels inside them, how he fills them. He helps them, pulling Rooney down until he is buried within them. A shudder runs through them, breath catching in their throat. Finally seated in his lap, one of Yorinobu’s hands brushes away a dark strand of red hair from their face. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” And fucking ready.

“Good.” He cups their face, his right hand still on their hip as he kisses Rooney roughly. They wrap their arms around his neck as Yorinobu rolls his hips, Rooney letting out a breathy moan. Rooney feels dizzy with ecstasy, head swimming with only thoughts of Yorinobu. They rise only to sink back down on his cock repeatedly. Their thighs burn, Rooney enjoying how intense every second of this feels. Their breasts bouncing up and down, rubbing against his sweaty chest, the friction setting their nerves on fire. Yorinobu’s kisses grow sloppy, his hand leaving their face. His hand trails downward, eventually reaching their clit. He rubs their clit, Rooney hungrily mewling.

Rooney’s fingers weave his short, onyx-black hair, scratching their nails over his scalp. He gasps into the kiss, earning Rooney a husky groan. They nip at his bottom lip, his lips parting for them. Rooney tugs his short hair, Yorinobu sharply thrusting upward, rewarded with a keening cry from Rooney. “More,” Rooney begs, desperately, “More please.”

Yorinobu’s thrusts grow more intense, a steady rhythm as Rooney rides him. Up and down. Up and down, his cock sinking into them. Again and again. And again. All Rooney thinks is how they want more, so much more. They’re so greedy for him for all of him, especially as he cries their name like a chant. Rooney feels breathless, a warm fire pooling low in their abdomen. Their eyes water, tears of pleasure burning in the corner of their eyes. Yorinobu’s lips come to their neck, Rooney tilting their head to allow him better access. “Yori,” They mewl his name like a prayer, walls tightening around him.

What was once a steady rhythm in unison becomes disorganized, Rooney and Yorinobu hurtling towards the edge.  Rooney can’t hold it anymore, ready to let go. They snap, crying his name as they ride him into their orgasm. For a moment, their vision goes black, ecstasy coursing through their body.

Yorinobu isn’t far behind. A few thrusts later, his hips sputter as he buries himself fully into Rooney, spilling inside. He cries their name into their ear, sounding so goddamn good to Rooney. Breathless, he buries his face in the crook of their neck, needing a moment to collect himself. “Yori,” They run their fingers through his hair, “You know I didn’t mean to make you feel undesired last night, right?”

He nods, lifting his head to look Rooney in the eyes. “You did not. I know what your work means to you,” Yorinobu cups their face with his hand, thumb caressing their cheek, “I would never interfere with that, but-.”

Rooney doesn’t think they are going to like the next words out of his mouth.

“I do enjoy teasing you. I will have to distract you more.” Rooney groans, affectionately rolling their eyes as he laughs. Yorinobu is lucky that Rooney loves him. And they’re lucky that he loves them too.   

#kate writes #nsft #the rooney fic tag #I won't let fear compromise who I am #commander rooney shepard #OTP: It always comes right back to you #well....here it is #my first actual official smut piece #I'm actually really nervous about posting this #I hope it turned out good! #and if it did #I kinda think I want to write more smut for them #also I'm not brave enough to put this in the actual tags lol #not there yet #lastly did y'all catch the mass effect reference lol

[lauraneedstochill]

Love always wakes the dragon / Chapter 1

summary: Aemond thinks she’s a worthy opponent — a relentless fighter, a fearless dragon rider, her temper and stubbornness only matching his. But there’s a catch: she is Daemon’s daughter who wants nothing from her father and has her own reasons for coming to King’s Landing. One of them is meant to save the other. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OFC words: ~ 4000 warnings: enemies to lovers, slowburn, violence (it gets bloody), angst, a few sprinkles of Rhaenicent, Daemon does his best to be a decent father (more like I did my best to make him one), I toy with canon A LOT author’s note: the first chapter is meant for you to learn about some of the main characters (Aemond included) and it’s the least dramatic one (it goes downhill from chapter 2) ➡ Part 2

1. The Wind of Change

Rhaenyra’s face looks void of emotions as she’s staring at the letter in front of her. Her eyes are following the same strings of words written on the piece of parchment, over and over again. Daemon is watching his wife closely, waiting for her reaction, trying to take a hint but there isn’t any. She’s an image of imperviousness as if her facial features were cast with marble, striking yet still. He can only distinguish that the irises of her eyes are overshadowed by darkness. It’s a dead giveaway that she’s livid.

“How in the seven hells did that happen?” when Rhaenyra finally speaks, her voice flows low and strained. But strangling in its fury. He learned a while ago that patience is not the virtue she possesses.

“It only just now came to my knowledge,” Daemon tries to explain, to apologize in advance, tries to make himself smaller. With his broad shoulders and his temper that usually can barely be reined in, it’s hardly possible, and it angers her even more.

“And I’m asking you how did that happen? How could you not know that you had a daughter?”

“I’ve already told you, we did not...” — they didn’t see each other after what happened, didn’t make any promises, didn’t make any plans — only it’s not they, it’s just him. “We did not keep in touch.”

“You are saying you just fucked her mother and then left into the sunset? Because no way that would bear any consequences, right?” the consequences she speaks of are very well-known to Rhaenyra — she has three of those, with raven-colored hair and curls they did not get from her. “And shall I even mention the egg?” she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Why would you even entertain the idea of giving her a dragon?”

The truth is that Daemon didn’t think much back then. He only remembers the sickening feeling of helplessness, his own whistled breathing, voice hoarse with desperation. But there’s also a cabin in the mountains that glowed with the warmth of the fire, the pair of hands that brought him relief, the miracle of coming back to life. He keeps those memories to himself.

“Rationality must’ve left me in the face of death,” there’s no mirth in his voice. “I had no hope to survive the night, thought the Stranger would take me by the morning. And she saved my life. And I... I decided it would be a worthy reward.”

“Great, that was great thinking,” Rhaenyra is clearly sarcastic. “So the way I see it, now we have an untamed dragon flying somewhere in the mountains doing gods know what — and a girl who spent twenty years of her life not knowing who her father was. Or am I mistaken?” her eyes land on him, trying to dig into his head.

“No, it sounds about right,” his voice is quiet, face riddled with guilt.

Daemon keeps imagining his daughter as a little girl, all alone in the obscurity of forest trees, reaching her arms to him. He never got a chance to know that version of her, he wasn’t there for her — and that feeling is poisoning his heart with regret.

“What are we to do now?” Daemon has never been the one without a plan yet at the moment he can’t come up with any.

“That is what I’m trying to think of,” Rhaenyra huffs with annoyance.

She doesn’t look at him anymore. Daemon stands up from the table, getting around it and towards her, wanting to lean closer as he always does. He likes lowering his head on her shoulder, steadying himself, finding comfort there, breathing in the warmth of her body that’s filled with the same blood that he has in his. But right now he hesitates.

“I can only hope that this righteous anger of yours will not graze her, and you can spare the girl,” his words are meant to be a plea but come off as an exaggeration.

Rhaenyra’s gaze is immediately on him, a look of disbelief on her face:

“How could you even assume such a thing? The girl has done nothing wrong, I’m not angry at her. Why should a woman pay the price for a man’s stupidity?”

What she means to say is that it’s all his fault — and Daemon welcomes the concealed allegation. He lets the weight of his remorse push him to the ground as he falls to his knees, the move startling and confusing her.

“I am at your mercy, then,” Daemon bows his head, a strand of white hair falling loose. He holds this position for a few seconds, before cautiously glancing up at her.

“Are you seriously implying that I should behead you?” she scoffs but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “If I were to chop off your limb every time you did something stupid, I would be left without a husband.”

Her jesting is a silver lining, a respite from this torturous conversation.

“Thank gods I have such a loving wife,” in a crawl-like manner Daemon comes to her feet, nuzzling up his face against the thick material of her dress, intaking a long-awaited gulp of air filled with her scent. She lets him, briefly carding her fingers through his hair.

“Keep pushing your luck and I may change my mind. And I will start with your cock,” her humor is biting, exactly the way he loves it.

“I thought that’s your favorite part,” Daemon smirks, yet watches her with keen attention, hoping that maybe he can get on her good side, tone down her ire. He almost succeeds — but when their eyes lock, whatever she sees in his makes her smile waver.

“Your wit is very much appreciated but not right now,” Rhaenyra’s tone is dismissal, her gaze aloof. “I need to think things over and I prefer to do so without distractions.”

Right now, she isn’t his wife, but more so his Queen, and she makes a point to remind him of it. Daemon can’t help but obey as he always does — voluntarily, time after time he chooses to surrender his pride just to satisfy hers. He loves her like this, when she evinces her flaming stubbornness, her passionate spirit. Except, witnessing it is not the same thing as being the one it’s aimed against.

She allows him a kiss on the crown of her head. On his way out, Daemon looks over his shoulder. Sometimes he wishes he could open up her skull, the reason behind it isn’t hateful but curiosity-driven — in moments like this, he’s dying to know what she’s thinking about. But the Queen has a mind of her own.

Rhaenyra drops the act the second he closes the door. She lets her head sink into her hands, a muffled growl leaving her lips. She’s frustrated with him, with that turn of events — but mostly with the uncertainty. Daemon’s expectations are romanticized yet she has a different opinion on what’s about to happen. She knows her husband is a proud man, and the idea of having another child, blood-related and flesh of his flesh, clearly flatters him. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, inclines to be wary of letting a stranger into their life since it’s not just a girl, with her judgment not clouded and innocent, but a full-grown adult. Having a mini version of Daemon can be troublesome enough, and a woman twenty years of age sounds like a downright threat.

But when Rhaenyra tries to picture her, she thinks of an unexpected outsider, and it reminds her of her own youth, of the way she felt growing up in a castle filled with people who believed that she didn’t fit in. Behind her back, they would call her a disagreeable menace, who was undermining decades-old traditions and wasn’t meant to rule. Her experience of coming out of age was bitter and harsh, soiled with death and betrayal, but it could’ve been different, had she lived away from the King’s Landing.

She sighs and realizes that it would be quite hypocritical to label someone the way she’s been labeled her whole life. The stranger in question couldn’t even be called that: Daemon’s blood gave her connection — however unwanted or accidental — to their family, and the Targaryens are famed for valuing their blood bond.

Deep down, Rhaenyra also knows that she would’ve wanted to meet her child, too. So she thinks there’s only one decision she can make as she fetches a blank piece of parchment.

Three weeks pass by, and early at dawn, Aemond approaches Vhagar, his boots sinking into the sand, his face weary and glum, contoured by the pale sunlight. Recently, each ride has been both a blessing and a torture: he longs for freedom but also fights the urge to fly away and don’t come back. Never in his life had he felt as out of place as he is now.

Ever since Rhaenyra took the throne, his life became a dull routine of the same boring days blending into each other. Her reign was to be expected, given that she’s been the chosen heir, yet Aemond’s expectations of his own future were clearly too high. His mother was the one to get a place at the small council, which came as a surprise to no one, although the nature of her relationship with the Queen was still a mystery to some, and Aemond preferred not to read into it too much. Aegon never wished to take any part in the governing of the realm and giving up his duties as the potential heir was the easiest thing he’s ever done, his days turning into one big celebration after that. But Aemond was stuck in between as no one could figure out where to place him.

After weeks of languishing, Aemond received an offer that sounded like it was invented out of thin air — the position of the Lord Commander’s trusted right-hand man. When he heard of it, he couldn’t hold back a huff. Alicent was the one to deliver the news so the prince didn’t care much about the norms of decency.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do? Make sure his cloak stays white? Her generosity is uncanny,” Aemond bristled.

“Ser Harrold is a well-trained knight and a man of principles, there is still so much you can learn from him,” Alicent’s attempts to reason with him were weak, words seem to crumble in the air, which only added to his anger.

“You think I am in need of learning?!”

“Aemond, the decision will not be forced on you,” she said but what he heard was — “No one wants you on that job anyway” — and it spread the venom of disobedience in him. “I will let you make your own choice,” Alicent tried taking his hands in hers, the gesture almost desperate — an offering of comfort, a pleading for compromise — and he wasn’t having any of it.

“You let her make a mockery out of me,” the prince stormed off the room then, adamant in his fury.

Aemond did consider taking the position simply out of spite, the idea rather entertaining if only it wasn’t for the commander in question. Ser Harrold was a good man, indeed, and despite him always being the faithful servant of the Queen ever since she’s been of age, he never expressed any offense against Aemond, always respecting his boundaries, which gave the prince no reason for derision and left no room for revenge. Which eventually made him feel like there was no room left for him in general.

He tried to escape the feeling the best he could, his training sessions granting him a chance to pour out the built-up anger, his rides with Vhagar giving him false hope for exemption. Yet he’s been living his days in a drowsy-like state, merely surviving — half-defeated, half-asleep, half the man that he wanted to be. Whenever he allowed that realization to sink in, he would always feel jealous of Daeron and get that abrupt urge to be somewhere far away, too. But no distance seemed far enough for him to run away from his feelings — or rather the lack of them, while he was eking out his lethargic existence.

Caught in a reverie, wrapped in the morning dimness, Aemond is suddenly brought back to reality when he notices Vhagar acting strange. Her whole body tenses up under him, head bending forward as she peers through the clouds. Aemond tries to follow her gaze, yet there’s nothing other than the foggy veil surrounding them. The dragon doesn’t let it go, spreading her wings and sliding down the air currents in her mysterious pursuit, and Aemond growls in annoyance as his hope for a quiet ride dissolves in the air. An unbothered old creature who rarely takes any interest in her surroundings is now obviously reacting to something, so the prince tries to focus again, looking around. It takes about a minute for him to spot an unusually large cloud that glitters weirdly in the light, and at first, he thinks something is wrong with his eye. Surely, his vision must’ve failed him because clouds never move with such speed, nor do they... roar.

That’s when it hits him: it’s a dragon.

It’s a big white dragon flying beneath them — the discovery is startling, yet the surprise is quickly replaced by curiosity, and Aemond commands Vhagar to fly further down. Usually, it can be quite hard to maneuver someone of her size, her stubborn temper not making it any easier, but this time she is unexpectedly obedient. In a few moments they catch up with the unknown dragon, and Aemond sees that it’s not untamed — there’s a rider on its back, wearing a long hooded black cloak, in sharp contrast to the alabaster white skin of the beast. Aemond’s eye is fixed on them when both dragons come out of the clouds, the clear sky around them is bright blue, the sun is blazing — and the prince is greeted with a mesmerizing sight.

Under the direct rays of light, the dragon shines so vividly, it almost hurts the eye — whiter than snow, his scales dazzle as if burnished while he glides through the air with ease, tight muscles rolling under the shimmering skin. The beast is clearly younger than Vhagar hence why he’s also smaller in size, but the dragon brims with the youthful energy that makes his every move rich with power, with eagerness to speed forward. Aemond is so fascinated by the resplendent creature, he misses the moment when the other rider notices him, too.

The prince feels a gaze on him and snaps out of the trance with a shudder, only then getting a closer look at the unfamiliar figure. Their hood is down, probably blown off by the wind, and Aemond realizes that it’s a woman. He’s able to make out her long hair — the color of autumn leaves, tied into a braid, her face expression hard to read from the distance. For a brief second, Aemond finds himself facing her intense glare but she’s quick to turn away. She puts the hood back on and slightly leans forward, the dragon immediately mirroring her move as his body ducks down. When they take a sudden turn to the right, Aemond sees a patch of bronze that’s spread on the dragon’s belly, the rare color mix making it look like a splodge of paint. Belatedly, it dawns on him that the white beast is headed straight to the city.

The prince turns after them, alarmed but not threatened enough to start a chase. He thinks maybe her visit is expected and he wasn’t notified — yet again, another sign of his irrelevance. Vhagar is hanging in the air as Aemond cautiously watches the other dragon flying away, waiting for the bells to ring or for any other sound to signal that the approaching guests are not welcome. Yet he is surrounded by silence, interrupted by the distant murmuring of waves chased by the wind.

He should continue his ride but is apprehensive to do so, uneasy feeling swelling in his chest, mixed with anxiety that’s akin to excitement. For the first time in a while, Aemond feels awake.

Earlier on the day of her arrival, Daemon takes a stand at the small council meeting. It’s set at first light, with no explanations given in advance as he wanted to keep his secret until the very last minute. His speech is brief — no names given, no dragon mentioned, his face draped with feigned indifference. He thinks if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, no one will. Rhaenyra is just his wife today, leaning back on her chair, determined to look as forgiving as ever. Daemon questions himself if her acceptance has its limits. And there’s only one person who’s allowed to test them.

When Daemon hears the displeased hum, he immediately knows what will follow.

“How kind of you to inform us all of a visitor that’s been already welcomed on our behalf,” Alicent’s tone is unapologetic when she talks to him. She never misses a chance to let him know how undeserving he is of her kindness — always was and always will be.

“Are you suggesting I should’ve turned down my own daughter?” Daemon looks her in the eyes, and she doesn’t avoid his gaze. When Otto was on the council, Daemon made sport of provoking him, their mutual hatred evident and unabated. Otto’s wish to keep a tight rein on him only instigated the prince’s temper, and Daemon made sure to have the last word. But when Alicent took her father’s place, it turned out that she had a way with words.

“Seems to me that asking for suggestions is of little use when the matter in question has been handled,” she says wryly.

“My apologies, I should clarify — I am not asking but merely informing,” Daemon can’t help but bite back.

“The members of this council are flattered by this lever of trust.”

“Do you speak on behalf of the council now?”

“I will not be the first one here to make decisions for everyone,” Alicent says with a flat tone, but her implication doesn’t escape him.

“And the only one to have such power would be the Queen,” he deadpans. “You mean to undermine her authority?”

“Surely, it wasn’t the Queen who found herself lost in the mountains twenty years ago, was it,” Alicent snorts.

When he shoots a quick glance at his wife, he doesn’t miss a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

They are on either side of Rhaenyra — Daemon is on the right as he is the King Consort, and Alicent doesn’t need any titles. He sometimes wonders if it’s a coincidence that she is seated on the side where Rhaenyra’s heart is, closer to her than anyone else. If maybe Alicent is the one who knows the Queen the best. “Does it mean the girl is an eligible heir of yours?” Lord Caswell is the one to interrupt their bickering. He is the Hand of the Queen and yet he’s second to the left, although he never questions the seating arrangement. Probably because the old man is too busy making sure they don’t tear each other’s throats.

“It wasn’t brought up to discussions yet,” Daemon admits. He doesn’t tell them Rhaenyra was the one writing all the letters, and she purposefully ignored the question of legacy.

“But isn’t that the main reason she’s coming? Forgive me my straightforwardness,” Corlys Velaryon raises the question from the far side of the table.

“Frankly, it seemed to me that she showed no interest in... whatever you are interested in,” Daemon chuckles half-heartedly — and he isn’t lying. The first letter they got was cautious, testing the waters, almost bashful with its narrative but the length and the details suggested the genuine wish to make a connection. Yet all the others had a different tone — terse and fast-paced, and Daemon suddenly felt like her coming to visit him would be more of an inconvenience than a chance for reconciliation.

“She may show interest once she gets a taste of what she can have,” Tyland Lannister remarks, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, a wary smile creeping on his face. He’s always on alert, ready to show all his diplomacy or his natural cunning or whatever it is needed of him to be a good servant of the realm. He’s like a deck of cards, and Daemon hates to guess which one he’ll draw today.

“You have a habit of judging others by yourself,” he glowers at the lord, and Tyland’s wish to engage in the conversation disappears before the eyes.

“What of her mother?” Lyman Beesbury speaks up. He’s the one who actually tries to find common ground even though their relationship with Daemon is hardly amicable.

“She has fallen ill. I have not received many details of her condition,” when Daemon speaks of her, he gets the blurred vision of her kind eyes and her soft fingers that’s almost painful to remember. But he has a wife now — and the other two are dead because of him. He doesn’t want her to die but his reasoning is far from selfless: he only hopes he won’t need to carry the blame for another death as he carries plenty already.

“We shall pray for her recovery then,” maester Mellos mumbles. He looks bored out of his mind, and Daemon holds back a chuckle:

“I am relieved to know that maesters now rely on prayers —,” but his jesting is interrupted.

“Is she of a noble kind?” Alicent asks, ever so nonchalantly, her fingers fiddling with a cup of wine. When she looks at Daemon, her doe eyes are unemotional but he isn’t a fool. He knows that she already has her guess, she just needs him to say it out loud.

His answer is nothing but forced:

“No.”

Just for a second he manages to catch a twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes, a rippling on the surface of her equanimity. Alicent doesn’t ask anything else and lets the issue hang in the air. It’s left in plain sight, for everyone to know: he brought another bastard into the family.

“Now that we have someone to pray for, can we be finished?” she raises from the table without waiting for an answer. “I promised to come see my daughter first thing in the morning, and I want to be on time.”

“That’s very dutiful of you,” Daemon snorts — and this time, she gives him an obvious look of disdain.

“Some of us have children we actually took time raising,” Alicent retorts with a dismissive tone. She throws a glance at Rhaenyra before leaving, and the room feels oddly quiet.

“That will be all for today,” the Queen commands with a tight-lipped smile.

The maester is the first one at the door and everyone else is quick to follow. Rhaenyra watches them go with a distant face while Daemon is looking at her. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes.

“That went better than expected, I think,” she eventually utters.

“You had some very low expectations then,” his lips turn into a crooked grin.

“Says the man who as of yesterday decided not to expect much in general.”

“When it comes to my daughter that is,” he remarks — and it still feels weird to say that out loud. It’s a stranger he’s never seen, a girl who may look nothing like him — or exactly like him, and he isn’t sure which one of these options he prefers more. One thing he does know is that he really wants to meet her, and that wish only grows, with a speed of a tidal wave.

Rhaenyra is looking at him, well aware of the meaning behind his frozen face expression — he is always like that when he’s deep in his thoughts. And she’s been thinking a lot lately, too. Rhaenyra squirms in her chair which catches his attention, and she opens her mouth to say something — but she doesn’t get a chance to as the door slams open to reveal one of the guards. He’s panting, his face skewed:

“Your grace, the tower watches send an urgent message — t-they say there’s a dragon. An unknown dragon is approaching.”

Their reactions are starkly different: Rhaenyra jumps up, eyes wide, mouth forming a surprised “o”. But Daemon stops her with a gesture of his hand — and he is actually smiling when he says:

“No need to panic, we are expecting a guest. I’ve already warned the dragonkeepers, they should be prepared.”

His wife looks at him dumbfounded, not making the connection just yet:

“A guest? I was not made aware you made friends with a dragon.”

“The beast has a rider, my dear,” he grins at her, almost apologetic for the fact that he has to explain it. “And she seems to like dramatic entrances.”

Daemon then gives his wife a brief kiss on the temple and hurries to the door. On his way there he turns to add:

“I guess she takes that from her father.” 🔥 Part 2

• the title is a quote from Richard Siken’s poem; • I imagine her dragon to look like Drogon. I dug through the internet (apparently no one ever filmed a scene with a white dragon?? unbelievable), the closest option I could find was this lovely art (and this is the one I used for the header); • just to clarify, I love Alicent dearly and I think she has every right to act that way so pls don’t hate my baby. • I left a tiny sneak peek for Chapter 2 on AO3 (it’s in the description, don’t tell anyone!) • I had the idea for this fic back in November, wrote a few scenes but it felt too intense so I put it on pause. recently the story emerged back into my mind, and I nervously decided to finally share it. what do you guys think? 🥺

💌 tagging the usual: @greenowlfactif & @kyuupidwrites (I hope that’s fine?) 🐲 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #I am so so SO nervous about finally posting this one #this is my first proper multi-chapter fic #and I am kinda pouring my heart in it #also I think you'll like it if you are into revenge stories #my stuff #daemon targaryen #< listen I will tag him ONCE OKAY #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond x original character #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfics

[fiepige]

Summary:

“HOLY SH-” Miles and Gwen simultaneously turned to cover Pav’s mouth so as to not alert the creature in the middle of the carnage below them. The creature either didn’t hear him or it was too preoccupied with whatever it was doing. To his regret Miles soon realized what that was, as another wet snapping noise broke the silence once more. The creature was crouched down on all fours over what Miles assumed was the body of an officer, though it was so mutilated that it was hard to tell for sure. Its head was buried into the chest of the body beneath it, another wet snapping noise emerging as it pulled out a couple of ribs between its bloodied jaws... Or The Spider-Gang goes looking for Hobie. They don’t like what they find.

Hey guys, remember how I mentioned that I was working on a Venom!Hobie fic a while ago? Well the draft is done and so is the first chapter!

#this is my first fic so I'm kinda nervous but also happy to finally be able to share it lol #trying to improve my writing cause I still feel pretty insecure about it #but I'm putting myself and my writing out there and seeing what'll happen lol #also this thing was beta read by google translate so please let me know if there's something I need to correct ^^' #I just love the idea of Hobie with a symbiote so I wanted to put more of that content out there #also comming up with a name for the fic was HARD lol #settled with this one cause I did not know what to call it but I didn't want that to be what was holding me back from posting it lol #oh well here goes nothing <3 #hobie brown #spider punk #miles morales #spider man #gwen stacy #spider gwen #pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #Venom!Hobie #the spider gang #across the spider verse #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #my fic #my post

[jensensfanfic]

can you do prompt 23 from that prompt list you reblogged with ellie williams? where the reader is the one saying it to her <3

SOMEONE THAT SOMEONE CARES FOR

pairing: young!ellie x gn!reader

prompt: #23 from this list

tw: injury description, blood, lmk if i should add smth else here

word count: 778

a/n: thank you so much for being my first ellie request! -> this is set in winter, after joel is mostly all better. that's basically all that is plot-related. also, no mentions of gender or y/n. -> got lazy with the title, might change it later.

thank you to my two betas on this one 💖 @wolfchild28 & @first-kanaphan

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

You misjudge how heavy the door in front of you is as you push it with as much might as you can muster in your current state. The force causes you to tumble when said door flies open with ease. It hits the wall and then bounces back, hitting your side. A strong arm catches you before you can fall. 

"Woah, woah, woah. Easy." Ellie's arm wraps around your waist. Her other hand takes yours and pulls it around her shoulders. "I gotcha." 

Your exasperated sigh and eye roll combo is ignored as Ellie glances around the empty house looking for somewhere to sit. Clearly, she finds it as she guides you over, releasing your hand slung over her shoulder to brush away some old newspapers. 

"Here we go. Sit down." 

"Really? Ellie, it's not that bad. I just slipped in the goddamn snow. Shouldn't we be more worried about Joel." 

"All good here." Right on cue, Joel enters the house, closing the door behind him. He leans over the sofa, where you are now sitting with Ellie. His eyes find the wound on your arm. "You need to patch that up, though. Then we can get moving if you're feeling good." 

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

While running from some rather unpleasant people, you'd simply tripped and fell in the snow, your knife sliding free from your grip. Then, somehow, you had managed to land on the blade, an almost perfect straight gash. 

You were running from people, with bats and axes, bows, and guns of all kinds… yet you'd ruined your injury-free streak of four days via your own weapon and your clumsiness. 

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

"Ellie? You, uh -" Joel looks at your bloody arm and then at your friend. "You got this?"

"Got it." 

"Good. I'm gonna check out the place and see if there's anything we can use." 

"'Course." Ellie shuffles closer as she lays out some things in the little space between you. "Okay. We got some bandages that look… clean enough. We have our handy dandy rags, and then… some water." 

Ellie begins cleaning up the wound, whispering apologies whenever you wince. It takes just a few minutes for her to deem it clean enough before she starts to wrap. "It's not deep enough that you need stitches, I don't think. Not that we have any anyway. I think you're just a bleeder, huh?" 

"Guess so."

"Think Joel'll find anything good? Maybe more comics?" 

"Maybe." 

"'Cos I really can't handle these cliffhangers." 

"Mm." You stare off past Ellie into the kitchen area where a little jar of old hot chocolate sits. Ellie notices and follows your line of vision. "Hot chocolate. Have you ever had it?" 

"Nope." You glanced down to see that Ellie has finished. Her hand still lingers over your secured bandage, but you ignore it. "Should we get moving now?" 

"Wait." Ellie frowns. "What about your arm? Do you feel okay?" 

"Yeah. I mean, it hurts a little still, but‐" 

"What about everything else? Legs, neck? You feel pretty hard. Maybe we should just rest here for the night." 

"Why? I'm fine." You sigh loudly and then push yourself up from the sofa all too quickly. Your head immediately starts to spin, and you lose your balance, falling right back down again. 

"See. You might have hit your head. We should sleep. Joel won't mind." "Ugh, fine." You cross your arms and pull your knees up to your chest. "But this is stupid." 

"Well, we can't keep going if you're dizzy. You could break a bone or something next time." Ellie gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "Hey. Why are you always so stubborn with this stuff? We can't keep going if one of us is hurt… and we are not leaving you behind, if you even think about–" 

"I wasn't gonna say that, I-"

Your eyes find hers, and you only see genuine concern and kindness. She's worried about you, you know that. You can see it, but your mind, your past, it won't let you believe it. 

"What?" Ellie pushes because she always does, always tries. "You can tell me anything."

“It’s hard to get used to…" 

"What is?" 

“Being someone that someone cares for…” 

"Oh." Ellie's eyes widen slightly, her mind more than likely racing with possibilities of what could've happened to lead you to think this way. "Well, I'm a persistent person. I will make sure you know how much I care about you… as long as it takes, even if that's forever."

"You promise?" 

Ellie's hand falls from your shoulder, and then she wiggles her pinky finger between you. You link yours with hers, as she whispers, "Promise."

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

#tbh i didn't wanna follow plot too much for my first fic #but i wanted to mention joel being better in there bc of where i went with it #but yeah.. i also kinda just went with the flow of this.. didn't really have a plan #can you tell im nervous to post my first ellie fic amongst all the incredible ones on this app? 😂🥲 enough rambles #my writing #mine #jensensfanfic/millerstation #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #tlou fic

[mariluvvs]

you're no good for me (but baby i want you)

A slim boy who seems like he’s average height steps into the room. He has straight caramel hair and hazel eyes accompanied with eyelashes that girls would be a hundred percent jealous of. The uniform suits him perfectly, in Mike’s opinion, even if the navy blazer reaches up to his thumb and oh my god Mike could not tear his eyes away from him even if he is held at gunpoint.

-

Mike Wheeler is a typical rich boy you'd see on TV. He attends USA's most prestigious boarding school, which is actually bullshit in Mike's opinion. He's begged his father for years to take him out, but he refuses. Though Mike thinks it's not so bad anymore after meeting his past secret admirer, Jane El Hopper's, stepbrother Will Byers. Not long after they meet, Mike and Will are already trading kisses in secrecy. Mike tells himself it's just 'casual' and they'll eventually get bored. Because Mike cannot keep telling his heart that he feels nothing for Will.

#omg first fic ever #i am so nervous for how this is gonna be #also this is not that one willel miwip i released #that was like a failed oneshot i wrote but idk if im gonna release that #also the collage looks kinda shit #but i just needed to get my point across #hopefully i dont abandon this #byler #stranger things #byler fic #mike wheeler #will byers #maris byler

[just-another-dreamerr]

Hiii, remember this thing? No? Yeah, me neither 🙃

Leo might put his family and the world before himself, but Casey is the student of his future self: everything he knows, the kid learnt.

Even lessons about sacrifice.

(Or: Casey decides it’s his turn to save his family, even if it means going against Leo’s wishes and getting trapped with the Kraang forever.)

Casey Jr enjoyers come get the angst <3 ( @funneylizzie I’m not sorry)

#so many people liked this idea and writing helps my brain shove away the anxiety #first time attempting multi chapter fic aaaa kinda nervous #rottmnt fic #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt casey jr #lou writes