#of clouds that hide top of the mountains

[barghest-land]

drawings from paleo expedition to dagestan, done right on the trip. sometimes messy when it was cold and rainy, but i won't correct it. i think it's cool to leave it just the way it was done, and not retouch it after. there will be more drawings later, but those will be done from home

#i need to draw for 2 museums at least to then send it to them as a gift cuz people there were so nice???? AAAA #and yeah im definitely doing back #maybe in autumn... who knows #barghestland #art #artists on tumblr #and #paleoart #??? #in a way it is i guess #also i usually don't share things from my sketchbook. but these drawings hold so many nice memories #of clouds that hide top of the mountains #of sitting on a rock #drawing and seeing a scorpion vibing next to u (tiny friend!) #of leaning on a big cow and almost falling asleep on a field with her after the rain #of... forgetting the pain too #of not wanting to even talk about the wonderful time i've had. because it was only for me to remember #so much happened up in the mountains that i'll never forget #thank u big rocks and soil and grass and apricot trees i love you #... #paleoland

[selineram3421]

*friend comes up with something*

Royally Pissed

Part 1

Prologue

Alastor X Morningstar Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ Italics=thoughts, implied/suggestive *cough* bedroom name ⚠

In all honesty, Alastor didn't know why he did it but it just happened.

He pulled the small blonde out of the way, holding them close to his chest as a large dust cloud came from the now broken chandelier.

Mostly everyone in the room coughed as they tried to clear the dust from themselves.

"Are you hurt?", he asked them, noticing that the top of their head barely reached his chin.

How small.

"I'm fine.", they turned away to cough. "That was a lot of dust.."

Before he could ask for their name again, they were suddenly pulled away by none other than the King, Lucifer.

"ALRIGHT THEN!", he said before pulling them towards Charlie.

Haha!

The blonde slid over to his daughter, bringing along his other child as he began.

Looks like you could use some help

From the big boss of Hell himself

He held Charlie close before pushing her to see him sitting on a throne with fire rising behind it.

Check out daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp

He sang, scrolling on his hellphone to show her the reviews.

(Five star! Flawless! Greater than great!)

Three puppets said one after the other.

Oh, with the punch of a pentagram

A wap-bam-boom! Alakazam!

Alastor rolled his eyes as he watched on, but then he was suddenly pouring wine into a glass.

Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef?

The deer demon was pulled by the waist and landed in a pan, ears folded back as he angrily smiled at the King who grinned evily before he was flipped onto his front.

(Wow~)

I'm going to kill him.. Alastor thought before lifting himself up.

.

You were pulled into song and at the moment, were now sitting at a dinner table with your sister as your father was dressed like a server, hand about to reveal a meal.

Michelin-tasting menu

He lifted up the silver cloche, revealing a a "decapitated" Alastor, then some tentacles with red eyeballs, and finally a cake with him holding Alastor's head.

Free à la catre!

Oook.. You cringed. Dad doesn't like Alastor.

I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref!

He started focusing more on Charlie and started to make more things appear.

Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just the start~!

And then Alastor jumped in with blacklight, his backgrounds looking vibrant.

Who's been here since day one?

The deer demon pushed your father away, making him spin out of song.

Who's been faithful as a nun?

He was suddenly dressed as a nun, holding his hands in a praying position.

Much like how your father changed his scenes quickly, so did Alastor. You were having some trouble keeping up with it. His appearance looking slightly different with the lighting, his irises now green.

I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond

"Aw.", Charlie smiled.

He was now at the top of the stairs with your sister.

You're like the child that I wish that had

Alastor cupped your sister's face,

"Uh, what?", your dad said shocked.

Then your sister was like a child tucked in bed, literally. Alastor sitting at the edge and patting her head.

I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned

"Hold on now!", your father lifted up a finger.

The deer demon suddenly leaned his elbow on top of your dad's head, smooshing the white top hat.

It's a little funny

He started and pulled your sister to face away from your father.

You could almost call me Dad!

Suddenly you pulled into the song and were spun into a dip, finding Alastor smiling down at you with a seductive gaze.

(You can call me Daddy~), he whisper sang to you.

Your face turned bright red as you let out a squeak.

.

How adorable~ His smile widened as he saw them hide their blushing red face with their hands.

Now this one was on purpose.

After seeing the immediate reaction Lucifer had with him touching them. Oh, he had to cross multiple lines to see what the man would do next.

They were practically shaking in his hands, no doubt a little overwhelmed with what he had just sang just for their ears alone.

Let's see if I can fluster them more. He thought and raised a hand towards their face.

Suddenly they were ripped out of his hold and it was just the two men on stage.

The King growled, face darkening before he began to angrily play a fiddle, walking up to him with a scowl.

Alastor just smiled, standing up straight with his hands behind his back. Taking a step back as he dropped a piano on the short King before taking a seat on the piano bench, playing it confidently and showing off his skills before cringing at a loud sound.

His piano solo interrupted by an accordion.

Looking behind him, he saw Lusifer holding the instrument above his head with a frown, playing just one long note.

Really? He thought with a raised brow.

The two glared at each other before the spotlights above the two flickered out.

*me and my friend holding back our laughter* We can't laugh! It's 2 am!

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @valenfawkes @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @+?

Taglist continued in the comments🔪

ML II for Alastor🎙 | RP ChL 👑

#Morningstar Reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #x reader #the radio demon #gn reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #charlotte morningstar #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #reader looks like lilith #short reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #Spotify

[lunargrapejuice]

can i request zhongli and the prompt “you’ll always be safe with me” plz? thank you!!! ^-^

ahhhh this man! i do not think about him enough and its a crime. thank you for requesting<3

just a little warming: reader is feeling sad/crying for unspecified reason, this is hurt/comforty

🌙 prompt event

“you’ll always be safe with me” | zhongli x reader with no pronouns used

the storm raging outside the closed window of your bedroom seems to mirror the one within you, as if you had conjured it from celestia yourself in the wake of your overwhelming emotions. 

drained of anything colorful with dark clouds looming overhead, rain pours in time with your tears, the wind swaying harshly with every rock of your emotions that take you just a little deeper into the cold darkness until powerful arms reach in and pluck you from the raging waves with such care and shield you from the bite of wind and the pelting of rain droplets. 

“i-i’m sorry,” you choke out through your tears, not needing to look up to know who has made their way into bed next to you, easily pulling you into a familiar embrace. and it’s as though hail has joined the downpour, their echoes telling you what a burden you are to him, reminding you why you tried to hide here in the first place, but you couldn’t get it together no matter how much you tried. right now you wouldn’t even know where to start.

all you can even begin to do is cling on to zhongli for dear life, like you really would be brought back under the worst of your emotions if you let go of him. he’s as steady as the mountains he himself raised throughout liyue and as warm as the highest peaks that reach for the sun herself. the smell of rain joins his normal scent of tea and amber and you wonder how long you’ve actually been here if he just returned home from work. 

“you have no reason to apologize, my lily,” his voice is a deep melody that seeps into the top of your head and trickles down your body like droplets of gold that sparkle in the darkness, guiding stars that your weary legs follow. a warm hand brushes along your back, soothing you even more. 

you let out a sob, your lungs trying to release the tension held within them and the clouds outside seem to truly be tied to your weary soul when lightning crashes down at the same moment and flashes in the room, a clap of following thunder muffling your whimper.

“it’s alright. i’ve got you,” zhongli whispers, pulling you ever closer into his chest, feeling your closeness ease the tightness in his own heart that had formed so quickly after finding you like this. “you’re safe, my love. you’ll always be safe with me.”

the rain outside continues to hit the building and windows but hearing zhonglis voice, being cradled in this arms and under attentive hands that raise you above the worst of the dark clouds  until it settles and you’re fast asleep, dancing with dragons in the sky above the clouds in your dreams.

♡♡♡♡♡

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader

[mllemarianne]

Deserving

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are betrothed to another, Aemond doesn’t want to address it strangely. Annoyed by his reaction, you reminisce about your whole relationship and everything that led to this very night, during the storm, in a tiny inn room with only one bed…

Word count: 11.5k 

Warnings: Angst and tension (so much), fluff and smut (4.5k words of it!) Slow burn, forced proximity, mutual pinning, friends to lovers. English is my second language.

N/A: The way Aemond was portrayed on the show broke my heart. I felt like writing an angsty, emotional and smutty little story about how Aemond’s childhood trauma would affect his relationship with the love of his life. House Strong is alive and no war is afoot in this story. Hope you like it! Masterlist | AO3

“Won’t you say anything at all, my prince?” you asked, your head on his shoulder, looking in his deep violet eye to gauge his reaction.

He opened his mouth hesitantly but avoided your stare. He pressed his lips in a hard line, exhaled loudly through his nose and looked back ahead, concentrating on getting the both of you through this raging storm with Vhagar.

He kept to himself what he was about to say. Again.

You knew you spoke harshly, and you knew how he hated it when you used a formal title to address him. But after all these years, after everything, you thought he was simply aggravating.

You grew up together. You were Aemond’s only real friend, even, so he knew of your short temper and your sharp tongue. He was the same. Yet you could not help but feel heartbroken at the silence he served you this very moment. One thing was certain: you were leaving and it did not please him.

You thought telling him the news after a nice day of flying around and visiting the Stormlands was a good idea. If you were honest with yourself, you hoped he would finally snap and do something. Anything. 

It became a nightmare instead.

The storm was terrible and getting worse by the minute. Drenched from head to toe, your whole body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. It seemed like you would never be warm again, even if you were on top of a gigantic fiery beast like Vhagar, even as your whole front was pressed against Aemond’s back with your arms circling his waist.

Soaring in the sky on your way back to the Red Keep, you yelpt as the dragon nearly hit a mountain hidden in the dark clouds.

“We have to stop, it is too dangerous.” Aemond warned you before the dragon instantly dived for a clearing near a small village. Holding onto him even tighter, you were absolutely terrified of being thrown off the beast’s back when you landed harshly in some meadow.

He grabbed you by the waist to ease your landing as you jumped down the large net fixed to Vhagar’s side. He went near the dragon’s head, pressed a hand to her scales and softly spoke some words in high valyrian to her. 

Brilliant. His dragon got more words out of him than you did.��

Vhagar seemed to cover herself with one of her large wings as she laid down on the wet grass. When Aemond walked back to you, you raised one hand and adjusted his hood over his head in order to hide his distinctive long silvery hair.

He looked at you with softness in his eye and you heard the faintest of "hm" escape from his chest before he turned around.

You walked fast in the downpour. The silence getting unbearable, you decided to tell him more about your father’s plans.

“The Reach has nice weather, I suppose.” he said, after a long pause.

“...Not as nice as King’s Landing’s don’t you think?” “Maybe you're right…” he replied.

You spoke of never seeing him again and he wanted to discuss the weather?

Tears started to pool in your eyes and you knew your voice would soon start trembling. You stopped talking altogether and walked silently in the heavy rain until you reached what could only be an inn.

“Only one room left, I’m ’fraid. You want it anyway?” asked the innkeeper. Seeing you shivering, he poured ale in two cups and handed you one. Aemond refused. You accepted.

“We’ll take it. And some wine, if you have it.” Aemond answered, dropping a few coins on the counter.

The old man then turned to you.

“How ‘bout you, girl?” he inquired, looking straight down at your soaked dress clinging to your body. "You’re not bad lookin. D’you have time for me later? How much? Love me self some curly hair—.”

“She’s mine,” Aemond growled before you could answer. He moved to shield you from the innkeeper’s wandering eyes and put a hand on his sheathed knife. “And you will not address her in this manner ever again, do you understand?”

He sounded calm. You could not see his face but you knew he looked anything but. Your hand reached for his arm, the one grasping the knife. There was no need for bloodshed, what if there were no other place you could go to in this damn storm? He did not budge, eye fixed on the innkeeper.

“The room, please. Now.” He insisted.

The tension was high, and other patrons began to look your way. The innkeeper seemed to chew on his cheek, definitely not liking the way his customer had threatened him. After what felt like an eternity, the old man grabbed a jug full of wine and handed it to Aemond.

"Upstairs, follow me."

Down a small corridor, you stopped in front of a wooden door. The innkeeper gave Aemond the key and left without a word. Not even looking at you.

The room surely was not as spacious as the one you had in the Red Keep. It was clean, at least, which was a relief in itself as you felt grubby from all the rain and mud. There were two armchairs and a table in front of a large hearth where a fire burned brightly. Gods be good, you thought.

Aemond put down the wine jug on the table and looked around. Then he saw it too.

There was only one bed. The smallest bed your both very privileged selves had ever seen, in fact.

“Take it,” he said under his breath. You see him peeling his hood from his leather clad tunic, leaving it carelessly on the floor. He put down his knife on the table before he slouched in an armchair, throwing his head back and closing his eye.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s enough space for the both of us. We used to nap together in the gardens all the time when we were younger, what’s the difference?” you replied.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” he mumbled, to which you chuckled slightly.

You just spent the day clinging to his whole body while flying around on Vhagar’s back. How proper was it when he would let you feel every muscle he had on his chest while you held onto him. How proper was it when you buried your nose in his neck and he sighed. You felt his heart beating faster every time your hands changed spots, trying to warm them. He could not possibly be serious with his talk of propriety.

“It’s only me, Aemond.”

“You are betrothed.” he said in a cold tone he never used with you before.

Now you were the silent one.

You looked at him for a while, frozen in place. In all these years, had he never thought of marrying you?

You were betrothed to another, and he acted as if it was a matter of no importance. You were leaving King’s Landing and he would not address it. All he had to do was say the words you longed to hear. “Stay”, for one... 

“You are staring” he taunted, startling you with his mixed signals.

You turned around but still glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Truthfully, you could not stop looking at him. His neck… his jawline… the rain gave curls to his long hair cascading down the backrest of his armchair… You were particularly fond of his hair like that. It was a rare sight. 

“Sorry if I was expecting you to be civilized and have a conversation with me.” you sneered. “You know, while we still can. ”

How could he be so calm? Nobody knew where you were. A prince, his dragon and the daughter of the Hand were missing. You imagined your father would be absolutely mortified. Then again, he knew you. You were not one to follow the rules and getting stuck in a storm was exactly the kind of tomfoolery he would expect from you. Somehow, this time, it seemed worse.

Both of you were drenched; confined to one small room; completely alone, in the middle of nowhere.

But as bad as it was, you thought it was the perfect situation. You could both have what you always wanted. So why was he holding back?

She’s mine, he said. His words kept echoing in your head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Still shivering, you knew the only way to ever feel warm again was to let your dress dry. Only, of all the scenarios you built in your head about your adventures in the Stormlands, undressing in front of him was not what you imagined— No. No, that was a lie.

You imagined it. You imagined it almost every night lately, in fact.

At the hour of owl, while you laid naked on the large bed in your chambers, you imagined his hands roaming free on your body. You would pretend he caressed your hardening breasts, pressed his curled lips on the most intimate part of you… you would even whisper his name ever so faintly when reaching your peak with your fingers…

All of a sudden, you felt like you were burning. You poured yourself a cup of wine and gulped half of it, for confidence if anything.

If he would not say a thing, then you would take charge. You waited long enough for this.

You remembered when it began, when you were 13 years of age...

Both of you felt left out when all the children went to the dragon pit. Not having a dragon was particularly hard for Aemond. His older brother and nephews were bullying him incessantly for it. It made him hopeless, like he was not a real Targaryen. However, the time he did not spend on dragonback, he spent with you.

Every evening, you would be in the library, trading books you enjoyed. Your father was a scholar and knew the importance of giving an adequate education to both his sons and daughters. It also meant you could train in the yard with the other boys.

You were good. Aemond was better.

Sometimes, the both of you would sneak into the kitchens at night to steal pastries and enjoy them secretly in the gardens. 

One night in particular, while you laid in the tall grass and looked at the starry sky with bellies full of lemon cakes and candied plums, he propped up on one arm, grabbed your neck and swiftly kissed you.

Stunned, you giggled. He shrugged, embarrassed.

Filled with remorse, you grabbed his tunic, pulled him closer and kissed him back. He seemed shocked, but you found a glimpse of relief in his gaze.

Then you licked half his face in retaliation.

Laughing loudly, you almost woke the entire castle as you chased each other through the echoing stone hallways. You were both so young, but you never forgot that moment. How it had been strange to have him press his lips on yours but also how you secretly enjoyed it. 

Or not so secretly. After that, he liked teasing you. Sometimes, when you would least expect it, and in the most inconvenient of places, he planted a kiss on your lips. Everytime, he stepped back to enjoy your reaction; the flush on your cheeks, your surprised stare and most of all, he waited to see if you would kiss him back. Once, Ser Criston almost caught you playing that little game when you were training with daggers. You had the upper hand, but as you were about to say “yield”, he distracted you with his kiss and the next thing you knew, you hit the ground, bested by your opponent.

Then came that night.

You were not there when it happened. While he did something extraordinary and claimed the largest dragon in the world, his nephews and nieces saw it as arrogance and resented him bitterly. The siblings argued that the lady Rhaena should have been the one to claim her mother’s dragon.

But “Dragons are no slaves. A bond can not be forged purely out of legacy,” you remember reading in a book once.

Fists balled up, knives came out and blood was drawn. Everybody gathered in the hall, including you and your father the Hand. Now the adults were fighting too.

You learned that Aemond called his nephews bastards. But that was not all. He also claimed they were your older brother’s bastards.

Even though it pained you to hear such slander, you were more concerned about your friend. You knew something bad happened. You could see blood all over his tunic. Unfortunately, every time you tried to approach him, he turned his head around so you could not see.

Then Queen Alicent attacked Princess Rhaenyra, asking for her son’s eye in retribution. It dawned on you that Aemond lost an eye that night.

He scurried out of the hall with his mother and Ser Criston in tow before you could speak to him. You tried to go to his room but he would not let you in.

Claiming Vhagar was a big deal. He had a dragon now. His most ardent wish came true. You knew he would want to tell you all about it. You even imagined traveling to King's Landing on dragonback with him.

To your dismay, Driftmark slowly disappeared in the fog as you stood on the ship deck. Alone.

You saw Vhagar rise from Driftmark’s sandy beach dunes and fly way up above you. The beast was so large, its shadow made it seemed like it was night for a moment. You watched as the dragon disappeared in the horizon with your friend as well. Then and there, you almost felt like he was stolen from you.

You only saw him again when you got to King’s Landing two days later. He wore a bandage on half his head and you wondered why he had to cover such a large portion of his face.

With hindsight, you realized he did not wish for you to see him at his worst. You knew about the eye, but not the long scar that now marred his face.

His wound eventually healed but some insensitive comments took their toll on him, you assumed.

“They saw me without the bandage. They are scared of me,” he once said to his mother, not knowing you heard from across the room.

“You are not scary, my sweet boy.” replied Queen Alicent, embracing her precious son in her arms. “Ask y/n. If your own mother can’t convince you, then maybe she will. Just be mindful of your words. They can be harsh sometimes. Despite the many rumors surrounding her brother and Princess Rhaenyra, don’t slander her house. She will grow to resent you.”

He nodded. And he showed you his face that day.

First, you noticed the eyepatch. But then you saw the long scar that went from his forehead to his jaw. Oh how he looked at you intensely, searching for any glimpse of disgust on your face. 

All he found was sorrow.

You could not even begin to imagine the pain he went through. You almost felt it yourself.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you… does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It’s numb, mostly. I did try to do something with… you know–” he said, pointing at the leather eyepatch. “– but a few servants saw me and they looked terrified…I’ll have to get used to wearing it.” When you asked what he meant, he reluctantly took off the eyepatch and showed you. Where his right eye should have been was now a gemstone. The biggest you had ever seen, in fact.

“It’s beautiful, Aemond,” you admitted, genuinely. Truth be told, you were mesmerized. It looked nice, stylish even. “It’s a sapphire, isn’t it? I like it, it matches the colors of my house.”

Sadly, your kind words of reassurance did not appease him. Thereafter, you only ever saw him with the eyepatch. Your words did have an impact on him, however.

As you got to the library one night, you found a velvet pouch on the desk you usually sat at.

“You said it was the color of your house.” he spoke, shy.

In the pouch was a silver necklace with dangling pearls and a beautiful blue sapphire in the middle. Seeing how you loved it, Aemond gave you the most genuine smile you had seen him do since the accident.

You tried to kiss him as you so often did, but you stopped the moment you saw the look in his eye. He seemed uneasy. You held his hand instead and thanked him. You never wore anything else.

Then, things started to change.

Soon enough, you both were 18 years of age...

Aemond’s whole demeanor changed, in fact.

You saw how people were looking at him. How they stared at the eyepatch instead of his eye when talking to him. The fake compliments he received and the snickers when they walked away from him. 

You knew it affected him greatly but he never let it show. He became calm and collected. He kept his sharp tongue for his nephews and nieces though. You knew he still held a grudge after all these years and frankly, you could not blame him. But for someone so clever and calculating, sometimes he did not think.

“Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong Boys,” he said once, in front of the whole Targaryen family, including you, during dinner.

It started a brawl. Again.

Wounded by the harshness of his words thrown about your family, you stood up and left.

Resenting the people responsible for his missing eye was one thing, but did he have to bring your older brother into this once more? If that is what he thought of your house, what could he be thinking of you then?

Realizing all too late he hurt you in the process, Aemond followed you to your chambers and begged for your forgiveness.

You did, for he was your dearest friend and seeing him beg was a sight in itself. You knew he did not mean to cause you pain, but you warned him that you would not have any more of it. 

After that, he was very careful with his words around you. Sometimes, he was awfully silent even. Words against House Strong cost him an eye once and resentment from you that night at dinner, afterall. So often he would answer with a simple “hm” now. It was infuriating, sometimes.

You felt his struggle. You hoped you could blow the cobwebs away by planning various adventures with him. You would leave on dragonback and visit neighboring regions. You drank dornish wine in fields of flowers; climbed mountains to enjoy the view; bathed in springs definitely too cold to be bathed in. He seemed more at ease when you were alone. He smiled, he jested. Ah you loved having him all to yourself.

Claiming Vhagar gave him so much confidence. Even Prince Aegon would not dare bully him now that Aemond was taller and stronger than him. He was an even better fighter too.

You still trained with the sword together in the morning. If you were honest with yourself, you liked training in the yard because you got to see Aemond in his training gear. He indeed grew taller. His shoulders were broader. His voice got deeper. He kept his hair long now too. He looked ethereal. You loved watching him practice his knife tricks, particularly how he spinned the handle between his now long and slender fingers.

You also loved to train with daggers because you would get closer to him. Swords kept you away but fighting with daggers and knives was so much more intimate. Sometimes you would let him beat you only to be held in his arms. Something about him pressing his body to yours while commanding you to yield made you feel all sorts of ways. 

Your septa told you time and time again that it was unladylike, especially at your age, to spend so much time fighting with boys.

You never listened.

There were also rumors that the princes were frequenting brothels in the street of silk. You believed it of Prince Aegon, but you knew Aemond was not for he spent his days in your company. He did have princely duties from time to time, but otherwise, even his evenings remained yours, in the library or in the gardens for a midnight stroll.

The only thing he never did again was kissing you.

You always acted surprised when he did that but in reality, you thoroughly enjoyed it. As the years went on, you began to think it was only a children's game.

Still, you would catch him staring at you quite often now. Once, you caught him glancing at your bosom while you were both reading in the library. He blushed so hard, you thought he stopped breathing all together.

It was you teasing him now.

Deep down, you knew how he felt about you. You felt the same way too. Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

You started with new dresses. They were tighter, low-cut and showed much more of your now adult body. You also decided that, from time to time, you would show up to your evening reading sessions in the library in nothing but your best nightgown and the necklace he gave you now resting in the valley between your plump breasts.

The first time he saw you so inappropriately dressed, you were delighted by his reaction. He did not blink once. He looked you up and down, greeted you and then never averted his eye from his book. He was holding onto the binding with such force his knuckles turned white. Even as you looked in his eye, there was no movement.

“Whatever is the matter, your grace?” you teased, using a formal title.

The prince was so shocked he could no longer read the wise words of Maester Octavis on warfare during Maegor The Cruel’s reign. He cooled down after a while…

…but it was your turn to burn now.

You pretended to be absorbed in your readings on the free cities of Essos, but you were only looking at his hands. The way his veins popped when he flexed his fingers; how he pinched the corners to turn a page; the slight stimming…

You were grateful your father never pressed the matter of marriage with you. As it happened, you reminded him so much of your late mother that he loved having you around in the Red Keep. He told you once he would wait for the perfect match and nothing else. Part of you hoped Aemond would eventually step up and ask for your hand.

Suddenly, the lords of the realm wanted to dance with you at balls and asked for your favor at tourneys. The attention you got overwhelmed you quite a bit. You tried dancing with potential suitors, but you weren’t remotely interested in any of them. Only your prince.

Aemond often swept in to make sure you were okay and that no lords were bothering you. Every time, he dared dance so close to you, you did not know how proper it was.

But did you care? Not really.

You could smell his hair. He smelled of amber and sandalwood. Each time, his scent would drive you mad with lust. The things you imagined him doing to you… and you to him. Not that you were well versed in the art. You had only ever touched yourself… thinking of him.

Thinking of his fingers trailing on your skin; his lips leaving burning kisses on your neck; his hands everywhere on your body but especially between your legs; you holding him close, so close you could feel every part of him, get lost in his scent, in his heat…

Despite your blatant inexperience… you had seen things.

One day, Aemond let you sit in front of him on Vaghar while you got back from one of your adventures near Gulltown. Riding Vhagar was an exhilarating experience in itself, but your mind was focused on the dragon behind you.

While you held the reins, Aemond held you. Tight.

You felt his breath on your neck. He nuzzled your shoulder. His warm hands sometimes caressed your sides, so close to your breasts… you could be wrong, but you swore he sighed at some point.

When you got back, Aemond had princely duties and could not join you in the library that evening.

You were rarely left to your own devices, it was unusual. The castle being so large, you decided to explore the wings you never go to to pass the time. 

The east tower was barely lit. It was late and its corridors were deserted even though you were close to the ever so busy servants quarters.

Then you heard noises. Voices, maybe? It kept echoing on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings.

You walked quietly to locate where it came from and happened upon two servants entwined in the throes of passion. Or at least, that is what you thought it was for you could barely see them in the dark. You were so curious, you could not help but peek.

Well hidden in a corner, the woman leaned against a wall, bunching her skirt up to her waist while the man seemed to devour her cunt. One leg over his shoulder, she was shuddering and mewling under his ministrations, completely lost in her pleasure. It was only after she moaned even loudly that the man let go of her shaking thighs, stood up, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her longingly.

Your whole body froze when you recognized the man’s long silvery white hair.

He turned her around and snaked his arms around her waist while he left searing kisses on her neck and shoulder. She bent over as he hurriedly unlaced his pants, kicking her feet so she spread her legs more.

You could not see from your angle but from the sounds that escaped her mouth, he took her.

Hard.

And she loved it.

You heard the lewd sound of flesh slapping while he pounded into her. He grunted as his fingers dug in her waist. His hair was untied and messy like you had never seen.

When you started panting yourself, you looked away. You knew you were witnessing something you should not. You made sure they could not hear the sound of your steps as you left the scene.

You did hear one more thing, though. Something that left you in quite a state.

He moaned your name.

You felt such a heat in your belly that you thought you were on fire. You never looked at him the same after that. You knew he burned for you as well. But why was he seeking pleasure in the arms of others when you were right there.

That night in your bedchambers, even as you gripped your sheets, writhing, moaning and coming for the third time… you thought your fingers would not do anymore.

You wanted more.

And you wanted him.

A little before your twentieth name day- yesterday, in fact...

Your father told you about your betrothal. The eldest son of Lord Martyn Tyrell of Highgarden was young, handsome, kind, educated, great with the sword and heir to his father’s title and castle. Your father had finally found you a match he deemed worthy of you. You were also to leave King’s Landing in a moon turn to meet your future lord husband and acquaint yourself with your new home. You felt your world shattering under your feet.

“Aemond is the man I wish to marry,” you declared.

“It’s Prince Aemond, to you. Don’t forget your place,” he corrected you. “And you know I can’t abuse the power the king conferred on me as Hand to arrange a match like that. My sweet girl, I know the prince is dear to you… but it is he who should ask the king for permission to marry you. Not me.”

That evening, you did not go to the library.

You cried in your bed until your head hurt, clutching the sapphire and pearl necklace Aemond gave you. When you heard him knocking on your door later, you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you said through the door, trying to calm your shaky voice. “I was simply tired. Goodnight, Aemond.”

“Goodnight, y/n… see you in the training yard then.”

You did not go to train with him the next morning either.

You dreaded the moment when you would have no choice but to tell him. The sun was not high in the sky when he knocked on your door again. This time you answered. He looked you up and down, surprised to see you in a riding dress. “I missed you at training,” he confessed. “Going somewhere?” “Let’s leave the city for the day.” You said. “Do you think Vhagar would like to visit the Stormlands? I hear the water is so clear in Tarth they call it the sapphire isle.” “With all due respect, ‘tis I who decides where I fly my dragon, my lady,” he replied playfully, but you still felt a little ashamed of your boldness. “But yes, as you wish.”

And here you were. Struck in an inn, somewhere in the Stormlands, with a silent prince...

He almost seemed asleep in his armchair in front of the fire. You could not bear the silence anymore. If he had feelings for you, then you would make him speak plainly.

You downed the last half of your cup before you started undressing. First, your cloak.

As you hung it on a hook on the wall, you peeked at your prince. To your surprise, he did not move an inch. You can only see one of his hands stimming slightly on the armrest.

Your boots were next— a real agony considering how soggy they were and how painfully long it took to unlace them. Leaving wet footprints on the floor, you walked to the hearth and let them fall loudly in front of the fire. Your eyes flutter again to Aemond. 

No reaction.

At this point, you did not know if you were annoyed or downright infuriated. You looked at the small bed again and you could only think about him taking you like he did that maid.

You shook your head. You had to focus.

Tugging at the strings at your waist, your skirt pooled at your feet, thus revealing your legs. Thankfully, you had a small linen shift underneath, barely covering you down to your knees. You were putting down the skirt on the wooden table when you noticed it. Finally.

Even if the room was dark, only lit by the fire and the moonlight, you spied one violet eye gazing at you intently.

For a moment, you feared he could hear your heart beating frantically. His silence affected you greatly, but you found comfort in the fact that he could not resist looking at you undressing. Men seemed to be simple creatures, afterall.

You tried to unbutton the bodice of your dress but the stiff fabric made it hard for you to reach back. Why did clothes have to be so complicated to put on and take off. It dawned on you that you would need his help to get out of this wet mess of a dress.

Turning around quickly, thinking you would catch him staring, you saw his head facing the other way. You approached and stood between him and the fire. The shadow you casted made him look at you. 

"I need your help. Would you unbutton my bodice please." you managed to say calmly.

His stare was hard to decipher but he seemed conflicted. First he looked into your eyes… then his gaze fell down to your bodice… next it wandered to the silhouette of your legs. He could see every curve of your body, the fire behind you glowing through your white shift. You felt naked under his stare.

He looked serious. So serious his left hand stopped stimming. Slowly, he rose from the armchair and waited for you to turn around.

And you did. You were waiting for him to make a snarky comment or jest about what a proper lady you were, but again, you were cursed with silence. 

There were at least 15 buttons that went all the way down to your lower back. You felt his calloused hands brushing against your neck as he parted your long hair. A small sigh escaped your lips.

He went through each button at an excruciatingly slow pace. You hoped he felt the goosebumps appearing where his fingers touched you. The frisson was almost unbearable.

When he got to the last button, he froze momentarily. You could not take it anymore.

You turned around quickly, got up on your toes, reached for his neck and crashed your lips onto his. Just as he used to do when you were younger. His lips were unexpectedly soft. Not what you remembered, but better. You wished the kiss lasted longer, but now you waited for his reaction.

He only ever looked at you without blinking. He exhaled loudly, looking down at your bodice dangling off your shoulders, revealing the rest of your shift. His eye darkened and you were now worried you angered him.

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate and vexed all at once.

The dam burst.

"I am sorry Aemond. I know I spoke harshly when we were on Vhagar but this is ridiculous. I need to know how you feel about me leaving King’s Landing. I’m to leave for The Reach in a moon turn. I’m leaving, Aemond.” You said over and over to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “I understand if you hate me right now but I can’t stand the silence. I won’t have it. We will discuss this."

“I could never– hm– hate you.” he replied, startled mid sentence as you snatched the bodice off of you and threw it on the table behind him. Only wearing the shift and the necklace he gave you, you stood tall even if he towered over you.

“I’M LEAVING.” You repeated, losing patience.

“I KNOW.” He growled, losing his legendary calm and jolting you.

“Then say something!” you pressed, grabbing his tunic with both hands. “I don’t want to go to The Reach, Aemond. I want to stay in King’s Landing with you. I want you.”

There, you said it. Eye wide open, he looked down at you, then at your hands tugging at his clothes.

“Your days are mine already,” you said, pulling him to you, pressing your whole body to his. “I wish to claim your nights too.”

He seemed hesitant but mostly, he looked panicked. He clenched his jaw and his lips twitched as though he was about to say something so incriminating he feared putting it into words. 

His hands found your waist, rumpling the fabric of your shift. You slowly melted into his warm embrace. His breath was ragged. You waited for his answer. Your heart was about to burst from the anticipation.

“Say it. Say you want me too.”

And you waited some more. You could not draw breath. He tensed, opening his mouth to speak but not a single word coming out. Feeling the tears coming, you bit your lip to stop your chin from quivering.

Just like you knew he would, he stayed silent.

“Fine,” you abdicated. “Then I bid you goodnight, my prince ”.

You let go of his tunic but he held on to your arms. You angrily twisted yourself to get out. You held each other's gaze while you unceremoniously took off the necklace he gifted you and threw it on top of your discarded dress. You climbed in the bed, pulled the covers and turned to face the wall. 

It is said that silence is louder than words, sometimes. Well this time, it was deafening. 

From his shadow on the wall, you saw he did not move an inch. With cheeks wet from fresh tears, you curled up, desperately looking for warmth but the damn stone wall was so cold. It made you even more angry. In all your life, you had never felt so exasperated.

The silence stopped when you heard him pour wine in a cup. He drank it all. Then he started to undress.

You heard the thudding of his boots hitting the floor, one after the other… then the clinging of metal clasps… the creaking of his leather tunic… the clattering of his belt and pants hitting the floor…then silence again.

Unexpectedly, the sheets moved, sending cold air on your shivering body. You felt him hastily lying down on the bed next to you. You don’t know what came over you, but you said it anyway.

“I thought it would be improper”, your sharp tongue throwing his own words back at him.

“You are freezing,” he muttered.

He pressed his whole front to your back and rubbed your arm with his hand. When he buried his face in your neck, some of his long hair fell in front of you and you got overwhelmed by his amber and sandalwood scent. His breath on your shoulder sent shivers down your spine and almost made you arched your back into him. You were awfully confused, tears on your cheeks but desire brewing inside you.

You wished you had the will to pull away but you craved his touch. His hands were on you. Touching you, rubbing you, caressing you, now down your side.

For a daughter of House Strong, you sure were weak this instant.

He chose this moment to finally speak.

“You don’t want me, y/n.”

These few words gave you the strength to turn around and look him in the eye. His mixed signals were simply baffling. It almost drove you mad.

Though, when your gaze fell upon his face, you thought he looked defeated. You noticed he kept his undershirt and his eyepatch but wore nothing else.

“Is that an order, my prince?” you asked defiantly, tears still in your eyes.

“Just look at me.” He said harshly.

“That’s all I’ve been doing for years, Aemond.” 

“You can’t possibly want this.” he said, making a gesture at his head.

You cupped his face with your dainty fingers. Distressed as he was, he still welcomed your gentle touch. Then your hand traveled upwards and you hooked a finger beneath the leather band of his eyepatch. You waited for him to give you permission. “Let me see all of you.”

After a few seconds, he nodded. Uncovering his sapphire eye, it glinted with the light from the creaking fire. He closed his good eye when the pads of your fingers grazed his marred cheek. And when he felt your lips on the bottom of his scar, his breath caught in his throat.

“Why do you think I’d wear a damn nightgown to the library when it’s in the coldest part of the castle?” you asked in his ear, your cheek resting on the scarred side of his face. He sighed. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you slightly to him.

“Why do you think I was kissing you back when you teased me?” you added, reaching for his hair tie. His long silvery-white hair fell around his face.

“Aemond, I’ve been throwing myself at you for years now.”

“I know… I’m missing an eye, I’m not blind.”

Then you get it.

“Is that why you grew so distant? Do you think me so feeble that I would begrudge you for missing an eye?”

“Everybody does,” he admitted with a bitterness that crushed your heart. “Why do you think I train with the sword, study history and philosophy, and ride a huge fucking dragon daily? I have to be all of those things so people can see me as a man.”

“I don’t care about all that. Two eyes, one or even none, I don’t care. I just want you.”

“I don’t want that for you, don’t you understand?” he snapped, cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him straight in his eye. “You want to be married to the court’s freak? Is that what you want? To be the lady wife of the scary one-eyed prince? Hearing people snickering behind your back? See them turn around when you are coming their way with me at your arm? The nosy court ladies asking if I keep the eyepatch on all the time, even when I fuck you? You want that?”

At the sound of his harsh words, you circled your arms around him and held him close to you. Your words failed, but maybe your actions would prevail.

Your face buried in his neck and hair, you knew he needed the embrace more than you did. You felt his arms caging you in, even a leg wrapping around yours.

You knew it was bad, but you had no knowledge of how bad it really was. He never spoke about these things.

“There will come a day when you will resent me for casting this burden upon you and I could not bear to see you grieve a life free from relentless mockery.” He said in your ear. “I didn’t encourage you… because I knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with a cripple for a husband.”

“Stop it.” you whispered in his ear, silent tears streaming down your cheeks again.

You stayed like this for a long time. He nuzzled your shoulder, breathed in your scent, clinged to your whole body with his fingers stroking your hair and back. He craved your touch. He needed comfort. He spoke of sparing you, yet he undoubtedly desired naught but you. 

You fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was far from what you imagined it would be like, but at last, you claimed one of his nights.

It was almost morning...

When you woke up, the sky was light but the sun had yet to rise. The storm passed and warm fresh air flowed in from the open window. It seemed like a beautiful summer day was about to begin.

All warmed up in Aemond’s embrace, you realized he never let go of you throughout the night. Now facing away from him, your legs were tangled, his arm laid limply around your waist and his face rested in your neck. His breath fanned your shoulder soothingly.

You felt at peace, a smile curling your lips. But despite his comforting heat appeasing you, your mind could only focus on one thing: his manhood.

Long, hard… and keenly digging in your backside.

You wiggled a bit. He only grunted and you felt his hand coming up to hold one of your breasts. Arching into him instinctually, you pressed yourself against him even more. You could not help yourself, you began to rock your hips slightly.

Sleep could never be found again, not while you were so intimately entwined.

“Stop doing that,” huffed a husky voice behind you. “Doing what?” you probed, your hand now gently rubbing his hip though his undershirt.

He let go of your breast and went for your neck instead, squeezing it lightly with his slender fingers.

You were definitely awake now. Awake and burning. 

“I’m trying to stay proper, but you make it really hard,” he said gruffly.

“That I know” you answered with a chuckle, ignoring his warning and still rocking your backside against his stiff cock. “What a poor choice of words.”

The hand gripping at your throat went to your hip instead to stop your sweet torture.

But with your skin so soft, your scent so enticing and your nearly naked body obviously craving his touch, he started grinding into you too. 

“Yes, very proper of you.” you taunted him. 

You felt every inch of his through your linen shift. He seems big, you thought. The prospect of finally having him left you in such a state. You desired him so ardently you clenched your thighs together to prevent your slick from dripping down your leg. He nuzzled your neck, bit it too, making a mewling mess out of you.

It took all your will to stop him. As much as you were enjoying this, you felt like things were not settled yet. You sat in the bed and gazed upon him, a questioning look lingering on his face. 

“Let me say it again, so you will believe me this time. You feel like you have to spare me somehow, but I won’t even entertain the idea. I’m a strong lady, am I not?”

He looked at you attentively.

“You are the only man I have ever desired. I want you. ” It took a moment, but from his lips came your salvation.

“I was always yours,” he confessed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers.

You felt it through your bones. His intense gaze went to your mouth, fixed on the plump of your lips. His hand reached for your face and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing your cheek lovingly.

He knew you would not accept any more arguments from him. The fact that you wanted him in spite of everything was baffling, but he lacked the strength to fight it anymore. He surrendered himself to you, for he was undeniably yours and you were inexplicably his.

“Then claim me.” you pleaded, yearning for his touch.

“I’ll make my demand to the King the minute we get back. I’ll speak to your father as well. The Tyrell boy can go fuck himself.” he said, brushing away your hair from your face. “You will be mine. You have my word.”

You were overcome with relief. King’s Landing was your home. It was where you read books, trained with the sword and where your prince was. And now, Aemond Targaryen wanted you to wife. Gods be good, it was everything you had ever wanted… but…

“The gods know I waited a long time for this… but I wasn’t talking about that…” you confessed, looking at him seriously. Holding his gaze, you moved to straddle him..

“Y/n!” he yelped, astonished yet incredibly aroused by your audacity. His hands went straight to your hips to stabilize you. You felt his cock brushing against your folds and you almost lost it.

“I-I saw you once,” you confessed, looking down at him. “...with a maid… In the east tower.”

He froze at your statement, but that did not stop you. You grabbed the bottom of his undershirt.

“I heard you scream my name.” you said, pulling on the fabric to tease him. He clenched his jaw. 

His hands fisted your white shift as well. He looked at you with fire in his eye, and not one you can easily extinguish. His composure hung by a thread. Lips parted, he looked at you like you were a goddess. You almost had him. He throbbed against your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

You bent down and your hardened nipples brushed against his chest though your linen shifts. Your mouth ghosting his, you inched up every time he tried to close the gap. You went to kiss the underside of his jaw instead. He growled, snaking his scorching hot hands on your back, under your shift.

“Don’t you want to know what I feel like?” you said in his ear, gnawing at his lobe. “Hear me scream your name.”

He exhaled loudly. You were most impressed at how good you were at making him unravel. He always loved your feistiness and how strong you were (with no trace of irony). You gave him back the same fiery energy. It was irritating and entrancing in equal measure.

And if you needed to be crass to finally get what you wanted, then so be it.

“I touch myself every night thinking only of you,” you hushed without any shame, tormenting him with a sudden rolling of your hips. “I want to know what you feel like too.”

He cursed under his breath. You could feel his walls crumbling around him. You pressed your forehead against his, keeping your lips awfully close to his. And now, the coup de grace…

“Kiss me… see what I do in return, this time.”

And you had him.

He sank into your touch, grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. He devoured you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. You hummed into it, feeling the heat flood your whole body. His lips were insistent, desperate to taste you as much as he craved your touch.

You felt his hunger, his despair and his desire all at once. You gave him unreservedly what he denied himself for so long. And he could not get enough of you.

You were his. His to take. His to touch. His to love. And he was yours. Yours to keep. Yours to feel. Yours to cherish.

You attempted to sit back up to rid yourself of your shift but he stopped you.

“Hmm, no. You’ve done enough now.” He muttered.

Without warning, he shifted you– manhandled you, more like– so you were under him. Kneeling between your spreaded legs, he took off his undershirt while you watched eagerly. You bit your lip as you admired his delicate ivory skin, his large shoulders, his toned chest, the V shape of his hip bones…He was divine. His manhood was also revealed to you and your doubts were confirmed. He was well-endowed indeed. Precum leaked from the tip of his long cock and ran down your thigh already. For the first time, nervousness got to you but you did not let it show.

Then he grabbed your shift and proceeded to rip it in half with his bare hands. “Seven hells, was that really necessary?” you asked, knowing full well you woke the dragon.

“I believe so, yes. You’ve been insufferable, my lady.” he reproached you, throwing what was left of the garments across the room. He looked down and took in the view of your naked body laying under him without touching you. 

“Insufferable, really?” you smirked, extending your fingers to touch his abdomen but he slapped your hand.

He came down and crushed you under his weight. He kissed your neck, licked it, bit it, sucked at it, anything to leave behind bruises you could hardly hide with your low-cut dresses now. You felt your own wetness leaking down to your backside.

He made known what roused his ire.

“Insufferable, yes,” he said in a low voice, pulling your hair to expose your neck even more. “Missing the morning sparring practice, for instance. Your absence was so distracting, Aegon almost skewered me.”

You chuckled, poking a finger in his side. He slapped your hand again.

Oh he’s actually angry, you thought.

“Dressing inappropriately in the library so I can’t read a damn word of my book,” his tongue flicked your erect nipple while his hand caressed your other breast. “Every time, I went back to my chambers with damp trousers, a hard cock and only my hand to see to it.”

Never had you heard him speak so vulgarly. He grinded into you to show how hard he was for you, brushing against your clit with every thrust. His breath fanned over you and goosebumps popped all over your chest.

“And just now? Coaxing your prince into marriage? Grinding all over him while he tries to stay proper? Very unladylike, but then again… you don’t want to be treated like a lady, don't you?”

His teeth grazed against the column of your neck and he came up to bite your bottom lip.

“I have always liked your insolence, y/n, but I think you are in serious need of discipline.”

“You are no better,” you said, smirking in his kiss, your hips meeting his movements, your bare cunt brushing against his hard cock. “You let my hands roam all over you when we fly on Vhagar. I always end up in your arms when we train with daggers. You glance at my bosom every chance you get, and not so subtly might I add. Don’t you dare claim the moral high ground, my princ— ”

You could not finish your sentence, for his lips captured yours again. He kissed you with an angry passion you did not know he had inside of him. Gone was the calm and quiet prince you knew him to be. You were his, now. And he intended to take everything you would gladly give him.

He reached down and slid a hand between your bodies. You grabbed onto the edge of the bed, gripping it firmly when you felt his thumb parting your wet folds. You moaned into his mouth when he found your clit. He broke the kiss and clicked his tongue.

“Still wet from the storm or is it all because of me?” he inquired, his lips curling in a wicked smile as he made circles around your clit.

“Oh just fuck me, will you.” you cried back, losing your mind under his ministrations.

“Such strong language, I don’t recognize you,” he teased again, loving the way he made you lose your composure with only one finger. “But I need to prepare you for me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, his thumb showing no mercy and your legs quivering. You felt that coil in your stomach. That itch that needed to be scratched so badly. He wanted to take his time. Honorable, but…

“…I-I lost my maidenhead years ago,” you admitted.

He stopped his assault on your lips and your mound all at once to look at you incredulously.

“No, it’s not like that. When Vhagar landed roughly in the rocky valley near Riverrun. These things happen. It’s why I insisted on bathing in the springs, I wanted to get the blood stains off my dress.”

He recalled the both of you bathing fully clothed in a very cold spring somewhere in the Riverlands.

“Still, I want to make sure that you... Enjoy. Every. Second. Of. It.” He said, pushing a finger past your folds, going in and out with each word he said.

You tried to kiss him again but he denied you. You had teased him so much that he wanted nothing more than to punish you with the same torturous treatment. He took pleasure in watching you go insane under him. Just as you drove him mad with desire. 

“I like the desperation on you” he said, picking up the pace.

His hands. His damn hands were on and in you. He added a second finger and curled them inside you, the heel of his hand pressing on your clit. You teetered on the brink of madness. He was relentless.

Your thighs started to shake as the pressure built in you. He knew you could take more so he slipped a third finger through your cunt and pumped into you in a steady rhythm. You whined as he tore your walls apart with fingers much larger than yours. You were getting close to your release under his expert hands, for not having control rendered things much more intense.

But as you were close, so close, he pulled out his fingers, your needy cunt clenching around nothing, desperation clear on your face.

“No, no!” you scowled.

He got off the bed and, for a second, you thought he was going to leave you like that. You were no dragon by any means, but you sure felt the rage of one.

“Patience”

He kneeled on the creaky wooden floor and pulled you to the edge of the bed in one swift tug. You watched him hook your legs on his shoulders and lock his arms around your hips. You blushed slightly at the sight of his face so close to your cunt, feeling so exposed as you could not get out of his embrace.

“I wanted to feast on you for years.”

And he carried on his exquisite torment. You threw your head back, lips parted in an O shape as Aemond’s mouth ravaged you eagerly. His nose teased your bundle of nerves while his tongue entered you. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth as you weaved your fingers into his silver hair and pulled his face in closer, not wanting him to stop.

He moaned into your soaked warmth and the vibrations made you arch your back instantly. Pleasure came back to you at great speed, back to where he left off. His tongue went to your clit while he fucked you with his fingers again. You fisted the sheets and writhed violently as you felt yourself going over the edge. Immeasurable pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak, screaming his name for all the inn to hear.

He held you down tightly as your legs shook uncontrollably on either side of his head. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take it. Waves of pleasure hit you one after the other, his fingers still moving in you, allowing you to ride your high till the end. He licked your juices for his own pleasure until you whined and tried to squirm away. 

He looked so proud of himself. He loved this power he had over you, to make goosebumps appear all over your skin while ravishing you, to have you jerking your hips as you unraveled on his fingers.

“Fuck. You are… so good.” you told him between pants, heat rising in your cheeks at the mere thought of what he could make you feel with is cock.

He proceeded to leave kisses everywhere on your inner thighs.

“Aemond, I beg you.” you said, pulling on his shoulder. You knew he enjoyed himself immensely, but you were desperate for him to take you.

“Begging? You?” He gasped, not recognizing his Strong Lady, always in control, now wanton and desperate as he laid on top of you again.

Your hand slithered between your bodies and you wrapped your fingers around his weeping cock. You had no idea what you were doing but it had its effect on him. He growled, astounded by your sudden touch. He looked fired up and ready to fuck you through the mattress and the floor.

He grabbed your wrist, indicating you to let go of his manhood. You grabbed his arse instead. He dragged the head of his cock between your folds to spread your slick along his length.

“There is no going back if I take you.” He said, your clit pulsing every time he brushed against your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels dug in his backside while your hands held onto his broad shoulders. His long hair fell all over you in a whirlwind of amber and sandalwood. “You will be mine, foreve—”

“I said claim me ”

And he did.

He sheathed himself slowly, gritting his teeth as he sank down, holding himself back from slamming into you all at once. Your eyes widened as he stretched your walls to a point you did not know was possible. You looked down to see he was only halfway in you. He cupped your chin with his rough hand, forcing you to look upon his face instead.

He watched you intently as you took all of him. He slid himself in your cunt inch by inch until he was deeply inside you. Pressing his lips to yours, he muffled your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He stopped moving to let you adjust to his sheer size and he deeply sighed against your cheek. Even with your fingers, you had never reached so deep within you. It did not hurt as much as you thought it would but you felt overwhelmed at the sensation nonetheless. 

He cursed under his breath.

“You’re so tight. You clench too hard, I won’t last”, he confessed as you panted in his ear. You felt him pulling back but you locked him in place with your legs and arms.

He gently rubbed your thigh with one hand. He kissed you passionately like the starved man he was, and you eventually relaxed. The pain faded and anticipation took place. You know what must have been minutes felt like hours for him by now.

“Move, I’m fine”

He went slow at first. He searched for your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours. He was so patient with you. After a few thrusts, you started to rock your hips to meet his pace, the familiar feeling of pleasure getting back to your core once more.

“You are so big” was the only thing you could say as your whole mind could not concentrate on anything else.

“But you are taking me so well, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

He was everywhere all at once. His praise in your ears, his hands on you, his scent all around you, his hair falling on you, his cock in you. Everything was him and you loved every second of it.

When he heard you panting in his ear, he picked up the pace. You whined loudly and he almost lost control of himself. He groaned against your chest, biting one of your nipples for purchase.

You felt yourself quickening already as he rubbed against that one spot that made the fire inside you burn more brightly each time.

You felt self-conscious about the ungodly sounds you were making and bit your lip to muffle your screams. He hit you with one hard thrust in retaliation, hitting so deep you cried out and went numb for a second.

“Don’t you go quiet on me, you said I’d hear you scream my name.” 

Gods, what have I done?, you thought. You never imagined him saying these kinds of things to you. He was right. You had been insufferable. You teased a dragon and now, you were paying the price. He liked having control over you for once, holding you down as he fucked you senseless. He claimed your body relentlessly with strong strokes that had your heart racing, his balls hitting your cunt hard each time.

And you loved it.

Your core was tightening with each of his powerful thrust. You were close. So close…when he suddenly left your embrace.

“Don’t you dare stop again!” you yelled at him, your arms desperately reaching for him.

But he only sat on his heels, grabbed one of your legs and hoisted it high against his chest. He wrapped his arm around your ankle and hammered his cock into you, hitting an even deeper angle.

“Fuck,” you wailed, eye widening and tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You clawed at his hip, overwhelmed by the searing heat growing in you while he filled you to the hilt. 

He reached so deep within you, you thought he was in your stomach. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, even. You moaned his name incessantly, the only thing your fuzzy brain seemed to remember this very moment. A veil of sweat appeared on his skin, he was glowing in the morning light now flooding the room.

“You're mine.” he said possessively, his fingers just shy of bruising your skin as they dug in your thigh.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Say you are mine, y/n”.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, you barely registered what he asked of you. His hand went to your lower stomach and he pressed down, making you squirm and cry out.

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.” you repeated over and over, trashing under him, overcomed by pleasure.

He worried he was too rough with you but when he heard a pleading “Harder!” escaping from your lips, he forfeited the last thread of sanity he was barely holding onto already.

You held on for dear life while he lost himself completely and slammed into you at a wild pace. He pulled out almost entirely before sliding back in again. His cock reached your cervix. Every. Single. Time.

He growled loudly as your nails left marks on his hip. His breath was erratic, he was close as well. You clenched around him and he cursed loudly.

“Look at me. I want to see your face as I make you come.”

“Come closer.” you managed to say between pants.

He let go of your leg and was over you again, your nipples brushing against his chest. One of his arms was on the side of your head, the other finding your clit to draw circles around it again. Your nails scratched his back, you pulled on his long silvery hair and rocked your hips to meet his unrelenting pace.

“Co-come for me, my love.” he stammered.

And you felt it deep inside you, from your womb to the base of your spine all the way through your whole back, legs, arms and head. Pleasure spreading like dragon fire within you, you reached your peak and it was not like anything you had felt before. Jaw hanging open in pure ecstasy, you could not even draw a breath. Your eyes rolled, your back arched and your whole body shaked.

“Aemond!” you screamed, tears down your cheeks as your orgasm did not stop. His dark eye watched you as you fell apart, praising him.

As you promised him, he heard you scream his name.

He continued with his merciless pace, letting you ride your high. Clutching his shoulders, you pressed your face to his chest and groaned against him.

You barely had any energy left to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. Your whole body went numb and your mind almost blanked.

“I’m close” he said, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. “Do you want me to—”

“I said claim me,” you reminded him, completely overstimulated but feeling pleasure creeping upon you again.

He let out the most tantalizing growl you had ever heard him make. He buried his face in your neck and he came roaring your name. His thrusts got sloppy but he did not stop. He breathed the faintest of “I love you” as you felt his muscles spasming and his cock throbbing.

He filled you with his seed with a few erratic thrust. Combined with the sudden heat deep within you, it was enough to make you see stars one more time.

Heavily panting in your ear, Aemond’s movements slowly came to a halt. He left kisses on your forehead… your cheek… your lips…

“You were perfect,” he murmured.

“So were you, my love.”

You stayed like that for a while. Him still buried in you, crushing you under his weight, and you loving the fullness, mindlessly stroking his hair and back.

You could hear birds outside, the wind in the trees as well. You embraced the peacefulness of it all. Now that was a silence you did not mind.

You slowly caught your breath, observing the pearly sweat on Aemond’s porcelain skin. You felt both his cum and your slick leaking down your cunt. What a mess you made, you could feel how damp that mattress was.

You noticed a low rumble coming from downstairs, a sign that the village was waking up and you needed to return to the Red Keep. Still, you both indulged a little more, not ready for this moment to end.

He left small kisses on your shoulder, listening to your quiet groans. He drew shapes on your arms with his fingers and observed the goosebumps erupting. He frowned when he noticed little scars scattered everywhere from years of sword training with him. You too had scars. A lot of them even. He never knew. You never said.

“Are you ok?” he asked, raising his head to look you in the eyes.

His sapphire eye caught the morning sun flooding the room and made hundreds of small specks of blue light dance all around you. The sight of him like this, all of him, was spellbinding. You answered him with a blissful smile. 

“I’m fine, my prince. ” “Stop it with the formal titles.” “It wouldn’t be proper, or so I’ve been told.” You tugged at a strand of his hair.

“Propriety has always been lost on you, I’m afraid.”

He laced his fingers to yours again and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“So… No regrets?” He asked, not sure if he would like your answer.

“Only that you robbed me of this pleasure for years.” You said playfully, kissing the bottom of his scar. “You?”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to swear like a bravosi sealord.” he said, leaving a lazy kiss on your lips.

“Only because of how aggravating you were.” you quip. 

He surprised you with a thrust to shut you up and, maybe, tempt you into a second round.

The bed itself was also surprised as its legs gave out and you both fell with the mattress on the creaking wooden floor in a loud bang and small clouds of dust engulfing the room.

“Ooh the innkeeper is going to kill you,” you giggled.

“He liked you, maybe you should tell him about it.”

Back in King's Landing...

Your father and Queen Alicent were mortified at the sight of you walking through the doors of the Red Keep nearly a day after you were supposed to come back. Clothes still wet, messy hair and a strong smell of dragon to top it all off. They had spent the night looking for you everywhere.

Queen Alicent seemed oblivious of what transpired during your little adventure in the Stormlands, but your father was no fool. He knew you. He saw you holding hands before you went through the Mud Gate from the beach. The look you exchanged before parting all but confirmed his suspicions. Not to mention your bare arms sticking out from underneath your hood indicated that you were missing a white shift under your dress.

Your prince asked the King, the Queen and your father for an audience immediately. He insisted your betrothal to him was not a request, for he would not take no for an answer.

Your father could not refuse a proposition from a Prince of the crown. Especially when he knew how dear he was to you… and whatever you were up to in the Stormlands.

You married before the moon turned.

At long last… you claimed his nights. 

NEXT: Part 2 (Indulging) or see my masterlist.

Thank you for reading!

Leave comments if you wish, I’d love to have feedback. English is my second language. 

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond one eye x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel tlou #tlou hbo #btw i tried to do some research on tranquilizers and anesthesia drugs but i didn't find anything clear so. everything you read is made up #i could have wrote it better but.. eh #it was challenging enough and i can't believe i've spent almost a month on it

[gxthicupid]

Hi can I request a macaque and wukong with a s/o that is the mother of dragons like Daenerys Targaryen from games of trones

Ps: if you haven’t seen of games of thrones I got to say it’s good

୨⎯  𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑺 [𝑺𝑾𝑲 & 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒙 !𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴋᴇʏ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪx-ᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴄᴀQᴜᴇ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ <3

➨ Long ago, one winter season, a devastating snowstorm erupted, plaguing the world in an ever-lasting blanket of snow, hail and cold air from the sun's warm rays.

➨ The skies were no longer a comforting hue of blue but a lifeless grey colour. At the same time, all signs of life were extinguished and left nothing but the skeleton of living creatures, only to be forgotten by the gust of wind and snow, leaving it for the land to swallow.

➨ Unfortunately, you were stuck in a forest of death, with the trees' remains that were nothing but hollow and sculptured of their slow agony through the winter. You have lost your way from your home and feared the worst as you continued your path and saw the aftermath when death will sooner or later catch up to you.

➨ In an attempt for survival, you've stomped and held onto the snow below your feet and, with squinted eyes, found a cave nearby, which will keep you warm and safe from the blizzard. Finally arriving, you plopped down in exhaustion and tried gathering a pile of leaves and sticks scattered around the floor to make a campfire.

➨ As the wood crackled and popped crisping sounds, you decided to let your eyes wander around the cave, a glimpse of an abnormally large egg was clenched in the darkest corner. Feeling sympathetic, you decided to allow this egg to sit with you in the warmth radiating from the fire, and with each passing second, you fell asleep with the egg held in your arms.

➨ The morning came, and the snowstorm seemed to be put at a halt; with tired eyes, you looked down at your arms and saw that all you were holding were eggshells.

➨ Worried, you looked around the cave and noticed a dragon cuddling and sleeping on top of the extinguished campfire, and you couldn't help but crack a smile at such an adorable sight. From that moment on, you decide to care for this baby dragon as if you were their mother.   

𝗦𝗨𝗡 𝗪𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗡𝗚

➨ Several years have passed since that life-changing moment. Your dragon has become an adult, growing their spikes and adult scales, wings and maximum size span, and they were so big that you could ride on them.

➨ Speaking of, both of you were flying across the vast ocean to arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, as it would be the first time you would introduce your dragon child.

➨ You and your dragon child flew through the clouds and dodged mountains and all the lava-covered cliffs, and as you got closer, you admired the graceful and lush view of the Monkey King's home that had begun to appear across the land.

➨ Finally, you arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, and it looks beautiful once sunset hits. The sunlight engulfed the scenery with a vivid orange, making all the greenery pop perfectly to catch your attention, along with the bold colour of the mountains surrounding the main peak with a crystal-clear waterfall.

➨ The sound of water falling into the bottom pond below was relaxing once you and your dragon landed near the entrance. You could not contain your excitement and began to squeal and giggle the moment you were about to call Wukong.

➨ "Okay, Okay." You tried to calm yourself down to avoid suspicious behaviour in front of Wukong when he got here. "You hide over there, and when I signal you when you can come out, alright?" You spoke to your dragon, and they began to find a spot behind some trees and reciprocate whether their hiding spot was good or not.  

➨ "That's perfect!" You gave a thumbs up for reassurance, and then you began to call out for Wukong and try to spot that cheek monkey. After several attempts, you thought he was not here and sighed a defeated huff. Upon walking back to your dragon, before the arms of a familiar simian.

➨ "Peaches! Good to see you." The one and only Monkey King, Sun Wukong, hugged you from behind as you felt his tail wrapped around your waist affectionately. On the other hand, you nuzzled your cheek against his while gently caressing his face. "Hey Wukong, how's my gorgeous king doing?~" You replied lovingly as you gave him a peck on the nose, and instantly, his fur puffed and a shade of pink rose on his cheeks.

➨ "I'm fine, Y/N, but what brings you here? I don't remember inviting you to come over today." Wukong sounded confused about your unexpected arrival, so your childish smile came back, and you began uncontrollably giggling to yourself as Wukong gave you an abashed look.

➨ "So. . .do you remember I mentioned a surprise guest?" Upon hearing these words, a memory flickered in Wukong's brain from recalling the thought. "Yeah? What about it?". You turned around, placed your fingers on your lips, and whistled loudly before a rustle in the trees and bushes was heard, and your dragon emerged from their hiding spot.

➨ You turned around and waited for Wukong's reaction - and it was priceless. His mouth was left open in awe, while his eyes widened from shock and somewhat intense from the unexpected surprise.

➨ Your dragon approached you in a giddy mood, rushed up to you, and begged for head scratches, so you obliged. "So, what do you think? Pretty neat, huh?" Suddenly, your dragon galloped towards Wukong and gently nuzzled its scaly cheek on the Monkey King's face, mimicking your affection towards him.

➨ Of course, Wukong was taken aback but quickly recovered and began to laugh and have fun with your dragon. "You kiddin'? My lover is an awesome dragon raiser!" He then proceeds to hold you by your waist and happily swing you around as your dragon happily spreads one of its wings around the both of you. Once he lets you on the ground, he kisses you on the lips adoringly.  

➨ "Man, where did you find this little buddy?" He then got comfortable to lend a hand onto your dragon's neck and scratch its spiky chin. "I found them all alone in a cave when they were an egg, and their mother wasn't around, so I took them in." You then used both hands to cup your dragon's cheeks and gently pressed both of your foreheads together while, in return, a low and quiet hum was heard from your dragon.

➨ A look of sorrow washed over Wukong's delighted face in seconds before giving your dragon a sympathetic look. "Woah. . .Sorry there, bud." Your dragon began to cuddle with both you and Wukong. "It's okay. They're doing fine." You continued to play so tenderly as if they were your child, and Wukong watched with heart-shaped eyes and a loving smile.

➨ That's when you noticed him and his tail wagging and those lovestruck eyes, and you felt your heart skip a heat or two. "What's up, Wukong?" You questioned him as he seemed lost in his own world before he spoke, "Y/N. . .You surprised me. And that's what I love you for - that you show something new and amazing to me, and I can't help but fall in love with you again~" His words were so honest while his voice sounded smooth, and a bright blush came upon your face as your face felt hot.

➨ He came up to you, hands on hips, and your arms rested on top of his shoulders before you felt like the world didn't matter anymore. As you both gaze into each other's eyes, sparks are felt between you too, and slowly, you went forward for a deepened kiss.

➨ His hands slowly caressed your sides and back while your hands slithered up his and massaged his head.A fuzzy, romantic feeling swelled up in both of your hearts. At the same time, Wukong began to chirp softly and tenderly hold onto you as you continued to satisfy him and his craving for your touch.

𝗦𝗜𝗫-𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗤𝗨𝗘

➨ Heavy, grey clouds covered the city of Megapolis like a canopy. At the same time, rain poured down gently, creating a calm and peaceful melody in the air. The damp smell of raindrops satisfied your senses whilst you walked around your neighbourhood and carried a bag filled to the brim with food for a certain. . .dragon outside the city.

➨ As you continued to walk a path leading to a forest close to the city, the weather suddenly made a simple walk into a beautiful experience. The path's towering trees and mossy rocks have stolen your breath from its beauty. In the distance, rumbling thunderstorms could be heard and added a more relaxing mood.

➨ Initially, when your dragon was younger, they managed to live in your home easily. Still, as they grew older, their size suddenly became a problem. Of course, you know having a dragon known by the public will cause a lot of problems, so your dragon stays in a makeshift home you built away from people, where it is safe and spacious for your dragon.

➨ As you continued your quiet journey through the forest, you couldn't help but sense that someone was watching you from afar. Your skin felt a slight shiver, even when the wind wasn't around, and yet, every time you turned to check, you'd just keep walking and feeling some sort of familiarity.

➨ However, in the corner of your eye, you caught the slightest glimpse of a silhouette that somehow looked vaguely similar but disappeared the minute you saw it. You shrugged to yourself and thought it was the forest playing with your mind, but once you turned to face the path, the one and only Six-Eared Macaque was there, grinning as usual.

➨ You instinctively freaked out, and the mud from under your shoe managed to cause you to slip and fall. Still, at the last second, Macaque swiftly grabbed your hand and prevented you from getting dirty.

➨ He quietly chuckled. "I'd thought you'd gotten used to my little surprises, sugarplum~" he spoke deeply, as the tone was done on purpose before flashing a pearly smile.

➨ As he helped you stand up, you cupped your face to hide the fact that you were blushing. Unlike Wukong, Macaque was the kind of guy to tease and flirt often, even in the worst times possible.

➨ "Not unless you decided to scare me in a forest. I thought it was someone else." Your stern voice spoke, but you weren't mad; more flustered, actually. "What are you doing here anyway? I didn't think the Six-Eared Macaque would wander around these parts." Suspicion could be heard from your tone as you questioned Macaque under the light drizzle.

➨ "Well, I noticed you waltzing around the city, and I got curious about why you were heading into a forest alone," Macaque said honestly as you patiently waited for his reasoning. "Plus, I got you this umbrella, just in case." Behind his cloak, an umbrella appeared, and he demonstrated it as proof.

➨ "But it's only raining a little." Instantly, the heavy rain began to emerge from the darkest patches of clouds, and a moment of silence took place. A feeling of embarrassment overwhelmed you, and your hands covered your face as you tried to survive the upcoming tease of your significant other.

➨ "Remember, Y/N, never jinx it." You didn't need to look up at him to see that smug look on his face, but the sound of the umbrella popping up made you look up and see he was preparing the umbrella to protect you from the harsh rain.

➨ "I'll hold onto the umbrella. You seemed to be already carrying a lot of stuff anyway." A pang was felt in your heart from this act of kindness. Of course, he'll never admit it, but it was more than enough that he at least gave you moments that reminded you that he does love and care for you.

➨ During the walk, the two of you only listen carefully to the soft croaks of frogs or the soothing whistles of birds up high in the trees. You continued to smile and admire nature, as it is not something you see often in the city. But Macaque, on the other hand, kept admiring you and your beautiful smile as his heart kept fluttering against his chest like butterflies.

➨ "I've been meaning to ask you," Macaque began conversing with you, and you turned your head around to pay attention. "How come you're here in the first place?" You immediately forget that you brought Macaque to your dragon's secret home. Then again, this is Macaque, and you fully trust him to keep your secret until further notice.

➨ "Well, you see. . ." You started strong before stopping yourself, which led Macaque to raise a brow in curiosity. Before you could tell him the truth, you finally arrived at the makeshift home for your dragon and decided to take his hand and lead him inside. "How about I show you." Again, you smile excitedly this time, and you see the slightest glimpse of a flustered face the moment your hands touch.

➨ "So before we go inside, I want you to promise me something." A sincere expression on your face looked back at Macaque, and again, he listened patiently to you as you struggled to muster the words. "When we enter, promise me you won't freak out, okay?" Macaque was obviously unfazed by your words, but you knew that would change when you opened the door. "Don't worry, Y/N," You decided to test him by revealing whatever was on the other side. "I'm pretty sure it'd be nothing-"

➨ As soon as the door swung wide open, your dragon was the first thing to be seen. It appeared to be resting inside peacefully, and Macaque's face was genuinely surprised. You calmly walked in, and sat down next to your dragon as they hummed happily from feeling your presence.

➨ You looked back at Macaque, where he was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. And as you looked around, he was already next to you and your dragon as he locked the door and put the umbrella away.

➨ "So. . .you're a dragon raiser, huh?" Macaque spoke again while you took out some food and placed some in a large bowl for your dragon, and they began to feast on their meal. "Well, I guess you could say that. Are you surprised?" You nervously replied as you weren't sure Macaque was handling the situation well.

➨ "I'm not surprised to see a dragon; I'm surprised you have one." In an honest tone, Macaque responded and seemed to be relatively calm. The conversation went nowhere, so you tried to make your interaction less awkward. "Yeah, I found them alone somewhere in a cave. And you know, a dragon living in the city would be disastrous, so I kept them here to be safe." You briefly explained, and a face of solace looked first at you and then at your dragon before placing his hand on their resting body.   

➨ Judging from his eyes, a memory must be flashing before him, and you didn't want him to feel sad, so you carefully yet hesitantly reach out your hand and place it on top of his hand. He looked back at you with sombre eyes as he noticed your comforting gesture before he smiled and allowed you to continue.

➨ You rested your head on his shoulder and held his hand as his thumb gently caressed your delicate skin. "I love you, Macaque~" You looked at him with adoring eyes as his cheeks and ears grew a soft shade of red, but his eyes were hooded yet inviting for your affection. "I love you too, Y/N." He then kissed you on the head before the both of you brought your bodies closer to each other. 

#lego mokie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid swk #lmk swk #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #macaque x y/n #lego monkie kid macaque #six eared macaque

[painted-bees]

[cw: explicit content🔞]

March 18th 2009

  The top floor balcony of the humble recording studio overlooked a small backroad. It was just high enough to grant a view over the roofs of surrounding buildings, out towards the mountains, across the harbour. But thick cloud cover and the darkness of night collaborated to hide the Rockies from sight this evening. Instead, Raf’s gaze washed impassively over the array of city lights that extended across the harbour and disappeared into the distant North Vancouver neighbourhoods. He took a sip from the bottle of water in his hand and invited the evening chill to sober him up. 

  Behind him, the din of party revelry outcompeted the exterior ambiance of late-night city traffic. Hi-Note wasn’t usually so lively this close to midnight. Its business hours only ran until 8pm at the latest, and, save for the evenings when he used to jam here with Magritte, Raf usually had the place vacated and locked up within that same hour.

  Today was a special occasion. It was the junior technician, Herbie’s, birthday. Since he had little where else to celebrate, Nels had hosted a surprise party for him in the studio. It wasn’t the first birthday Herb had celebrated in Vancouver, but it was the first birthday following a rather heartbreaking split with his once-steady girlfriend. The usually jovial lad had been, understandably, a lot more quietly introspective over the past few months. Once Nels had gained the knowledge that Herb had no big, exciting birthday plans this year, the rest was inevitable.

  Raf had driven to work, and wholly planned to drive back home. Towards that end, he enjoyed his drink and smoke early, cut himself off early, and was now finally feeling clear minded enough to collect Margie and call it a night. Intending to do exactly that, Raf turned towards the sliding door of the balcony, downing his last gulp of water. And–discovered that Margie had found him first.

  A smug grin and a playful wave preceded her sliding open the door. She stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind her. “Ey, nice hiding spot, Ephrem!” She rubbed her hands together, watching her breath hang in the chilly air as she approached him. 

  Raf relented to leaning back against the balcony railing as Magritte dropped her elbows on it, beside him. “I was just about to go in and get you.”

  She sighed and looked out across the harbour. “Past your bedtime?”

  “Nah, the party’s winding down anyway. But I kinda wish I found you out here sooner. This view is really nice.” She sighed wistfully. “Glittery.”

  He provided a self-depreciating smirk. You could set your watch to Raf’s night time routine and, typically, if he wasn’t in bed between eleven and eleven-thirty, he’d be grumpy if there wasn’t a good reason for it. A birthday, he supposed, was as good a reason as any.

  “If you’re not ready to head home yet…” He allowed his easy capitulation to hang unspoken in the space between them.

  Raf made no motion to herd her back inside. Instead, he placed his empty water bottle down by his feet and then settled further against the railing. He wasn’t worried about waiting much longer out here. Magritte had a low tolerance for cold, and the chilly March breeze would chase her back inside within a reasonable amount of time. Still, he didn’t want to give her the sense he was in any kind of hurry. Genuinely, he wasn’t. 

  “Yanno, this is the weirdest place I’ve ever worked at.” Magritte furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Just a bunch of guys being pals, but also…not weird about it. And stuff gets done. And I–” She turned to look at him, “I help with that. Like, actually!” She turned her back to the landscape, electing to mirror Raf’s posture. “Okay, this sounds stupid but like…I’ve never felt good at a job before. Not just that, I’ve been proactive? I get to do stuff before someone has to ask me to do it? And, I do it properly? Wild. Nels even likes me!” She beamed up at him. “He called me ‘Supergirl’ today after hearing the vocal mixing I did for Cybele Fray.”

  “Yeah…” Magritte pressed her palms against her cheeks and smooshed her face in a pensive gesture that wasn’t intended to look as silly as it did. “I’m worried I’ll lose interest and pitter out eventually. But until then, I’ll just enjoy feeling useful. And smart.”

  Raf favoured her with a smirk, and wrinkled his brow in substitute for a shewed shrug. “Nels loved you the minute he saw you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first job you feel competent at is the first job that has you working with audio and such. You’re doing what you like doing.”

And, Raf thought, employed by someone who actually knows how to manage you.

It’s true that Hi-Note made excellent use of Margie’s savant-like skills, but not all of it had been absolutely enthralling to her. A bored Margie was difficult to keep on task, but somehow Nels had managed to navigate her ‘on again, off again’ pattern of productivity. Largely, Raf noticed that Nels cycled her off monotonous tasks before they had a chance to bore her–no matter their state of completion. And then, he’d put her back on it as soon as she looked ready to smooth her brain on something simple and repetitive again. Raf had taken that observation–and applied it at home. Very quickly, he helped her build a habit of taking just one dish out of the sink, washing it, and putting it away, any time she found herself in the kitchen during a moment of aimless roving. Not always, mind you…but often enough. One thing at a time, and the order of it doesn’t matter.

  Raf considered whether or not he ought to affirm to her for the umpteenth time that she was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. But the window of opportunity closed when she continued talking. 

  “Life’s been really…easy this year, so far. Like, the easiest it’s ever been. I like it. A lot.” She turned her eyes up to him with an unspoken question that he couldn’t quite read.

  “Same.”

  “Really?” Her questioning gaze pressed further.

  Raf measured her for a moment.

  Yet–there she was.

  Until she showed up, he had been living alone in a two bedroom, downtown apartment; a feat of luxury by Vancouver standards. He’d have described it as a relatively ‘small’ space; each room was big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, a night stand, and little else. But, two bedrooms were still two bedrooms. Near Yaletown, no less. Truth be told, the income he was making at Hi-Note would not have been enough to afford it, if he had to rely on it alone. But he had been rather uncompromising about having a spare room for guests–until Magritte moved in. Now, that room was hers; guests be damned.

  It was a bit strange to think about. Generally, Raf preferred being alone. He found that living with anyone else always came with more stress than it was worth; whether it was with a steady romantic partner, or a family member. He was fairly certain that he’d never lend himself to the horrors of rooming with a friend who barely knew him. The very idea had felt like a violation against the sanctity of his home–the one place he could withdraw and hide into when he needed the peace and quiet to sort himself out. He didn’t trust family nor lovers to respect his space when he most needed it. A roommate as impersonal as a friend would have been much worse, and for absolutely nothing.

  He had first invited Magritte to crash at his place on an impulse. Though he feared the precedent it may have set, she didn’t overstay her welcome. In fact, she had barely stayed at all. That hadn’t surprised him nearly as much as his resulting disappointment had. And so, he invited her again. And again. And again. And each time, he confirmed for himself that she was simply…good company. He slept easier on the nights she occupied the guest room. His mood each morning felt buoyed by her presence, even before she emerged to greet him in the kitchen. He just liked talking to her. The baseline of her mood seemed to always be several levels more pleasant than his own, and the way she carried her joviality made it infectious, not grating. Even on the mornings when she had shuffled into the kitchen muttering a preemptive apology for her irritable mood, she had been sweet about it.

  Magritte did something to his brain chemicals that medications just couldn’t compete with. But what that was exactly, he had no god damn clue. The only other thing he could think of that would come close to eliciting the same kind of response from him–might have been something like…having a box of fluffy kittens gently dumped on him. Maybe that’s what she was to him; a box of sweet, soft, wobbly kittens–personified. It would certainly explain the cuteness-aggression she often provoked; that overwhelming desire to just scrunch her up into a little ball and tear her apart with his teeth…affectionately.

  Oftenly, so did she.

  Now she had her own key to the apartment and, over the winter, the guest bedroom had slowly been transformed into her disorderly, war-torn little nest. A true nightmare to behold for all the clutter and chaos; clothing haphazardly strewn across every inch of floor, and a plethora of dirty cups and plates on–and around–the nightstand by her bed.

  Strangely, it didn’t bother him. She had warned him of her negligent cleanliness habits well in advance. In fact, she had initially cited it as her reason for not wanting to overstay at his place. In response, he had given her the room to do with as she pleased–on the sole condition that she kept the door closed and ensured her mess never breached containment. If he didn’t like it, he simply didn’t have to look at it. Aside from leaving dishes in the sink (and occasionally on the living room coffee table), Magritte had been pretty good at maintaining her end of the bargain. By and large, her messes stayed confined to her room.

  When it came to the matter of Raf coveting his peace and quiet, Magritte had proven to be no trouble at all. That was remarkable, considering how loud she was in almost everything she did. But, most evenings after work, she straight up ignored him. She spent her time holed up in her bedroom, playing music and browsing the internet. Raf had once expressed appreciation for Margie’s unobtrusiveness–and was met with a mixture of disbelief and tremendous relief from her. Apparently, most others hadn’t found the same kind of comfort he did in a roommate that happily kept to themselves. She had grown accustomed to worrying that her ‘shut-in’ behaviour was excessive and inconsiderate, because if someone didn’t come and pull her away from her hobbies, she was liable to get lost in her solitary activities for hours. For Raf’s part, he was just content knowing she was there if he felt in need of company, but rarely did he feel compelled to call upon her for it. He liked her little routine of being present in the mornings, joining him for lunch, winding down with him for an hour after work, and then emerging once more for dinner before they both disappeared to their respective corners of the apartment for the rest of the evening–until bedtime.

  While Magritte spent the days in her room, she developed a habit of spending most of her nights in his bed. He accepted the blame for that. Generally preferring to sleep in cooler temperatures, he neglected to consider that his love for a brisk chill wasn’t universally shared. To his quiet horror, he learned one morning that Margie’s feet were often corpse cold. The nail beds on her toes would turn purple from poor circulation, she’d get sensitive little blisters under the skin, and the ache of being chilled through the bone would keep her awake at night. Genuinely, the bones in her feet were colder than the ambient temperature. He wouldn’t have thought it possible if he hadn’t felt the impossible iciness of her skin with his own hands.

  She had laughed, telling him that this was just how things always were for her during the winter months. It’s why she so greatly preferred the sweltering heat of summer. And that’s when Raf offered to let her cosy up in his bed. He always felt too warm at night, and she had literal ice blocks for feet. The solution seemed pretty obvious to him.

  And so, she had spent most of the winter nights with her feet pressed against his back, tucked behind his knees, or sandwiched between his legs. That same arrangement led Raf to discover that sleep came easy when he had something–or someone–to curl his arms around at night. And just like that, over the course of three short months, Magritte had nearly extinguished his reluctant dependence on sleeping medication. 

  As far as roommates were concerned, Magritte was…an unusual one. If he had tried to explain any of the peculiar details about their mutual arrangements to literally anyone else, he knew what it all sounded like. He had considered that maybe he was attracted to Margie; head-over heels in love with her. The problem was, he had been in love before. It made him stupid. And it made him unmanageably paranoid. Weird elation tangled with exhausting, antagonising suspicion; the highest highs and lowest lows. Margie didn’t make him stupid nor particularly paranoid. In fact, he had been able to navigate her with a level of clear-minded ease that was somewhat unusual to him. Perhaps it was in the way she spoke plainly and honestly with him. Despite how hard he looked for it, there was never any hidden nuance to the things Magritte said, wanted, or felt.

  Paranoia still sunk its hooks into him the same way he had grown to expect it–but a different part of him, a voice of reason that he had been working hard to cultivate, granted him a very small, very rare sense of satisfaction when he turned it to Margie’s defence. So he cared for her, at the very least. But she didn’t burden him with the dizzying gauntlet of infatuation. He wasn’t in love with her.

  But she was easy to be with. And, under her influence, life had felt much kinder.

  “Yeah, really.”

  Raf watched relief wash over Margie’s features, and she let out a little chuckle. “Oh, good. ‘Cus, yanno…usually, if I’m having a good time, it’s ‘cus someone else is running themselves ragged for it. And I don’t want you to–”

  “I promised I’d tell you if things ever started feeling off,” Raf cut in. “It’s been weird, but not off-putting. I’ve liked it, so far.”

  Her eyes held him with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, something close to tearful. But there was a delighted, grateful reverence in her gaze that wounded him in a peculiar way. He felt compelled to soothe it.

 “Hey.” Impassively, he pushed himself off the balcony railing to stand and turn towards her. “Can I try something?”

  Her mouth twitched upward in a quizzical smirk. “What?” Raf tilted his head to one side, and leaned in just enough to spur a response from her, “Oh-! Yeah? Yeah!? Ok, yes!”

  He kissed her. 

  If he liked it? If it made him uneasy? If it did anything for him, at all?

  It was a soft, gentle, fleeting little gesture; he didn’t hold it for more than a second. It was just a taste, to see–

 To see what?

  He lingered as he considered it, and just barely had time to register the broad grin on Magritte’s face before he felt her warm hands cup his jaw. She pulled him into another, far more impassioned kiss of her own–and he met her lips with the energy to match.

  As her fingers snaked around the back of his neck, he felt his hair raise beneath her touch. He leaned into her more bodily, bracing against the railing with a firm, steadying grasp. He hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste little peck, but he felt Margie’s soft lips part to invite his tongue, and was loath to leave her wanting. Her fingers ran up the back of his head, combing through his hair, and then curled back down to tenderly caress behind his ears.

  A thrill of warmth originating from her hands shivered through his body–to his groin. It coaxed a surprised purr out of his throat, and he caught it in his mouth before turning into a snort through his nose. He broke the kiss, pulling away from Magritte’s grasp to drop his forearms onto the cold balcony railing beside her, curling over himself to rest his forehead atop them.

  There was a moment of silence as Raf found himself more thankful than ever for the chill evening breeze. And then Margie’s tentative voice met his ear.

  “S-sorry. I got…I got a little carried away.”

  Raf reluctantly lifted his head to shoot her a self-deprecating smile. “Not just you.” 

  He watched her brow furrow with concerned bewilderment for a brief moment before the combination of details clicked in her mind.

  “Oh-!” Her eyes grew wide with mischievous delight, “I gave you a boner!” The exclamation came as hushed as she could manage, but her triumphant grin spoke volumes. 

  He shut his eyes in a beleaguered wince. “Don’t sound so pleased.” He opened them again when he felt her lean against his arm.

  She tilted her head to catch his gaze, and wore a cheeky smile. “We can go home and do something about it, if you want.”

  Hold on, now. “Nnn…”

  Well, maybe?

  He cast her an incredulous look. 

  “Or not!” She pulled back with an exaggerated shrug. “I know people get weird about that kinda thing–or–maybe I’m weird about it. I dunno, I’ve never been bothered by, uh…” The sentence dissolved into a weak chuckle, and her cheeks flushed pink under the faint, warm lighting that emanated from within the studio.

  Raf had never been one for casual flings. Some manner of romantic attachment had always been prerequisite before the idea of sex could carry any appeal to him at all. But then again, he never had a friend as openly straightforward as Margie before. She was as uncomplicated as they came, and Raf recklessly wondered if that would at all be compromised by taking up the offer she had just presented to him. It felt irresponsible to even consider it, but…

  Your stupid fingers in my hair got me feeling some kind of way.

  Embarrassing, how easily he had been turned on. But then again, it had been a fair few years since anyone had touched him like that and, woe betide him, a man was still a man after all.

  It was wrong about Margie. And if it wasn’t, well.

  And then there was the matter of Margie’s confidence. He liked the kiss–he obviously liked the kiss. Her ensuing proposition wasn’t a wholly unwelcome one, either. But, for someone who claimed she wasn't able to read between the lines with people, she was an expert adept at reading far too much into anything that could be perceived as a rejection. She had escalated things, but he had started it–and he didn’t want her to feel shame for reciprocating the way she had. The awful, feral part of his brain that he loathed screamed like a banshee; the usual chorus about ulterior motives and emotional manipulation. It was wrong, of course. It was always wrong.

  Except for when it wasn’t.

  If I die, I die. Fuck.

  “Sure, let's try it on.” 

  Margie stared up at him with those wide, blue eyes, but her brow was tense with uncertainty. “Really?”

  He provided a small shrug. “We already share a bed. This’ll just be another weird thing we do in our growing list of weird things. Maybe we’ll change our mind on the way home. But at the very least, I wouldn’t mind another kiss or few.” To illustrate his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly against her forehead. 

  When he pulled away, Margie stood up straight and bounced on her heels, holding her face in her hands. “Okay, okay! Yeah!” She darted towards the door and slid it open. “I’ll go get my coat, and–!”

  She stopped short of scurrying inside, and turned to ensnare him in a tight little hug. Raf didn’t have time to close his arms around her in response before she broke away from him again to scamper down the hall. He stared after her for a bewildered moment as she disappeared around the corner, towards the stairs.

  By the time he caught up with her again, she was already downstairs saying her farewells to the Hi-Note crew. She wrapped Herb up in an energetic hug that he happily reciprocated. 

  A large hand clapped Raf on the back before a familiar voice behind him asked, “Everything good?”

  He turned to see Nels favouring him with a warm smile. 

  “Yeah, I was just…” He pointed a loose finger towards the ceiling, “taking a moment.”

  Of everyone in the room, Nels was the only person who knew about Raf’s disorders. He was the first glimpse Raf ever had of what a ‘proper’ father was supposed to look like. The man was raising three daughters at home and brought that same air of patient, fatherly responsibility into the office with him each day. Raf, in particular, had been adopted by him as a kind of nephew. Nels was a best friend to his Uncle Bill, and Bill trusted him to help Raf settle into a good circle of friends and acquaintances. Raf had been reluctant to grow familiar with anyone who wasn’t his Uncle, but with a significant amount of encouragement from both his Uncle and his therapist, Raf stuck it out with Hi-Note through the several occasions he had been tempted to quit on a bad vibe, misinterpreted comment, or fearful hunch. So far, it had been working out favourably for him. The pay wasn’t great, but Raf didn’t need the income of a steady job. Rather, his therapist had been right to say that getting out of the house and expanding his ‘library of positive experiences’ was much better for his health than isolating himself at home, rotting under the grimey weight of his paranoid assumptions and suspicions.

  “You got a piece of cake, right?” Nels fished for an excuse to keep Raf around. 

  “Nah, Margie scarfed down enough for both of us.”

  Reeling back with a dissatisfied but good humoured growl, Nels insisted, “Oh, you gotta try this one. The icing is–”

  “Too sweet,” Raf cut in with a defusing laugh. “I had a bite. It’s good, but a taste was plenty.” 

  “It’s already midnight,” Margie’s voice interjected, “If Raf had it his way, he’d have been in bed an hour ago. Cake ain’t gonna fix that.” 

  “Bah!” Nels waved them both off, defeated. “Fine, go. Get out of my building, you kids don’t know how to have fun anymore.” 

  “Fun? In this economy?” Margie clutched imaginary pearls before her expression of mock dismay dissolved into a grin and she opened her arms for a parting hug.

  Nels swooped down to envelop her, and for a moment his broad body fully eclipsed her from Raf’s view. “Drive safe, be good. See you on Monday.” He pulled away from Margie, turning his gaze to make sure the sentiment landed with Raf as well.

  Raf provided a lopsided smirk and a gesture that was something between a wave and a salute. A chorus of goodbyes followed him and Margie out the front doors of Hi-Note studio, and Margie waved back over Raf’s shoulder until the doors closed behind them.

  “I like them,” she said with a happy sigh.

  “Yeah.” Raf led the way to his little, dark blue sedan parked against the street curb and watched her shuffle gleefully towards the passenger side. “They like you, too.”

  Hard not to.

  He got into the car and turned on the engine.

–

  The ride home was tricky for Magritte as she tried hard to temper her expectations. Raf was a skittish person by nature, and she had to be very careful about not overwhelming him or applying too much pressure with her eager enthusiasm. Any time he felt like he had put himself into a corner by overpromising or obligating himself too irrevocably to something, his instinct was to escape it–no matter what ‘it’ was. But there was nothing irrevocable nor obligatory about her offer to sleep with him tonight. Not ‘sleep’ in the literal sense of the word, for once. No, if he let her, she was going to suck his spirit out through his dick and fuck him into the ground. Good god, she had been wanting this for months.

  But Raf, being Raf, was liable to change his mind at the very last minute. And if he did, she wasn’t going to take it personally. She wasn’t. Nor would she be upset, nor disappointed, nor in any way disparaging about it. The most she could do was make sure not to push the topic too eagerly on the way home, and to avoid offering up any obstacles that might serve to dissuade him. 

  …Which made it very difficult for her to bring up one particular topic of concern before they had passed by the last 7/11 and it was too late.

  “I guess, um…Should we pick up condoms? I can run in and get them.”

  She held her breath as she watched him consider the question for a moment.

   Funnily enough, it wasn’t a matter of protecting against diseases. They both had a clean bill of health, and came to know that about each other when she experienced a rare episode of anxiety regarding the last guy she had stayed with. In her weird panic, she greatly overshared a plethora of details to Raf. He had been remarkably cool about it, and walked her through the entire process of getting tested–something he was no recent stranger to.

  Rather, she didn’t want to tempt fate on getting knocked-up; not when life was just starting to become enjoyable again. The idea of pregnancy was a lovecraftian horror to her, and the stress of dealing with something like that to any extent just wasn’t worth the gamble. She was on the pill, yes…but even that wasn’t guaranteed protection. And, with how often she forgot to take it, she wasn’t sure it protected her at all. 

  “I mean…” Raf began, hesitantly.

  Magritte spared him the trouble. “Or not, if it’s a pain in the ass.” She shrugged with a disarming little laugh. “It’s a bit out of the–”

  Raf cut her off. “No, it’s fine, we absolutely can. It’s just that I’m–” Without taking his eyes off the road he produced a scissor-snipping motion with his fingers.

  Margie stared for a bewildered moment before her brain picked it up. “Wait, what? Really? Why?” She had leaned towards him with that last question before realising it was probably a shitty thing to ask.

  But, if it bothered Raf, he showed no sign of it. “I don’t want kids, and I had…an unpredictable ex.” 

  “Oh!” Margie had the good sense not to press him further, and leaned back into her seat. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, lucky me.”

  She delighted in the humoured snort she coaxed from him. His easy smile and relaxed posture assured her that he wasn’t grappling with any second thoughts.

  That won a sidelong glance from him. “So..?”

  “Straight home, garçon!” She chopped one hand into the palm of the other with mock urgency. “The minutes are precious!”

  And indeed, though he had kept his hands to himself for much of the ride home, and in the elevator up to his apartment, Magritte found herself pressed between his body and the door to his flat as he warmed her with a voraciously weighty kiss. She received it gratefully. The heat of him, the molten softness of his lips, the scruffy, tickling hairs of his chin–

  She hadn’t realised that his free hand–the one not curled amorously around her body–had been busy unlocking the door. She’d have staggered backwards when it opened, had Raf not preemptively braced her with the arm that held her.

  He broke the kiss in order to assure that their half-stumble into the apartment didn’t devolve into a full stumble. But still, he kept a steadying arm around her, and she rewarded the preservation of closeness by pressing a string of kisses down his neck and towards his collarbone. Her hands had found their way beneath both his jacket and t-shirt, the flesh of his torso hot against her forearms and fingertips.

  She heard the door close shut behind them, and the familiar sound of the keys dropping onto the counter before the hand that had been holding them cupped the side of her head. She felt his lips press against the opposite temple.

  She had been able to kick off her shabby, loose-fitting boots without pause, but she reluctantly peeled herself away from Raf in case he wanted to take his sneakers off with a little more care. And, perhaps…to give him some space to think. Taking the opportunity to remove her jacket, she chucked it haphazardly across the couch.

  Raf was measuring her with a gaze when she turned back towards him.

  “Second thoughts?” Her smirk carried a cheeky confidence that worked hard to cover the self-conscious tone in her voice. 

  “No.” His bewildered inflection and raised eyebrows explained plenty; he had expected to turn against the idea by now.

  “It’s a bit impulsive,” Magritte conceded.

  Raf provided a slow nod, “It is…”

  “I’d really like it, though.”

  “I want you to.” He seemed to chew on that for a moment, as though it had answered something for him.

  There was an awkward standoff while neither of them moved, and in that brief moment, Magritte deeply regretted putting the space between them. Finally, Raf approached her and placed a kiss onto her forehead while his hands gently teased the elastic tie out of her nest of auburn curls. She wrapped her palms around the back of his neck as she felt her hair fall loose from the messy bun it had been wrangled into.

  “Promise me this won’t fuck anything up.” His voice was low and quiet in her ear. The pleading tone was only amplified by the lingering manner in which his cheek rested against the side of her head. His warm breath against her slightly chilled skin inspired goosebumps.

  She pulled back to look him squarely in the eyes. This was far from being her first tryst with a friend, and she knew herself well in this regard. “I promise it won’t! Not for me, but…” She offered an apologetic half-smile. “I can’t promise it won’t change things for you; I don’t control how you react. So, really. Really, really, really–if you’re not sure, then I’d rather…not. I like things the way they are. I like doing things with you. To me, this is just another thing I like doing that I think would be really fun to do with you. Not at the expense of anything else, though.”

  He searched her features with a scrutinising stare, and she didn’t shy away from it.

  “Nothing changes,” He asserted, “we’re just friends.”

  “Good friends,” she offered back with an impudent grin.

  He mirrored her expression with a scoff and a lopsided smirk of his own. “The friendsiest friends.”

  “But, friends just the same.”

 Her conviction was rewarded with another kiss, his lips melting against hers as she felt the tension in his muscles evaporate through a sigh. Her hands glided up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck. As she gently combed her fingernails through his hair, she remembered that delightful little noise she had coaxed out of him on the balcony. What had done it? Was it the kiss? Or…

  Her fingers traced the contours of his scalp and, as she curled them towards her palm, they lightly caressed the back of his ears. Her thumbs smoothed over the muscles of his jaw, but before she completed the gesture, he broke away from her.

“Alright, friend.” He curled his upper lip to flash teeth at her in a playful snarl. “Get your lily white ass into the bedroom before the last brain cell navigating my good manners is starved of oxygen.” He turned her toward the hall, and a pat of his hand against her butt provided her with all the motivation she needed to oblige his request. 

  She whisked herself down the hall into his room, and left the door just slightly ajar for him. She knew he wasn’t going to follow her right away. He had his evening habits to tend to; checking the door, setting the thermostat, turning out the lights, and taking his meds with a tall glass of water. It would have been silly of her to think that the promise of tits and ass would throw him off routine.

  Magritte took the opportunity to shed her clothes, throwing off her shirt and wiggling out of her tight tank top–a personal compromise for her disdain for bras. She shimmied out of her denim shorts and leggings both in the same gesture. Her underwear, though, was of a cute, boyish design and she decided she’d give Raf the satisfaction of peeling them off her, if he so wished to.

  Wait, just the underwear? Is that weird? She considered putting the tank top back on, and failed to gather the motivation for it. And so, she settled upon a better idea. Grabbing one of his t-shirts out of the second drawer of his dresser, she pulled it on, over her head. Hell yeah, guys love this shit.

  No sooner had she put on his shirt than he walked in to see her wearing it. She turned to him with a sheepish grin, tugging the bottom hem over her thighs. 

  Taking a sip from the glass of water in his hand, Raf clocked the shirt and favoured her with a humoured hum. “Comfy?”

  She provided a coy nod, and, before she could do much else, he abandoned his glass on the top of the dresser to close the distance between them. His arms caught her up into more of a ‘scrunch’ than a proper hug, and he came down on her with a frustrated growl, burying his entire face into the side of her neck with the sound of exaggerated chomping. The combination of lightly grazing teeth and his rough chin against her skin elicited a startled yelp from her before sending her into a fit of uncontrolled giggles as she was effortlessly bowled over onto the bed.

  “I changed my mind.” He snarled, “I’m gonna eat you, instead. Hungry, horny, it’s all the same.”

  “It’s not, though!” Her words were barely intelligible, warbling with laughter. 

  As she struggled in vain to wedge a hand between the soft flesh of her throat and his coarse goatee, his mock gnashing softened into playful kisses. Regaining her composure and chasing away her giggles by clearing her throat, she snaked her hands beneath his shirt.

  “I’m worth more to you undevoured, I promise.”

  “Remains to be seen,” Raf muttered into the hollow beneath her ear.

  “Well…let's see.”

  Her thumbs smoothed over the trail of body hair from belt line to belly button, before her palms passed broadly over the front of his stomach, around his sides, and up his back. Digging her fingers into his shoulder blades, she tilted her chin back and drew in a long breath as his lips travelled down her neck, towards her collar bone.

  Distracted by the pleasant textures of his mouth, Magritte’s attention hadn’t followed his travelling hands–until she felt the heel of his palm press broadly against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Instinctively, her thighs tightened around him, and her hands abandoned their near-completed task of unbuttoning his jeans; grasping the waistline instead. She coiled into his touch as his palm lifted away to drag his fingertips lightly up, towards the top hem of her panties. From there, they slipped easily under the close-hugging fabric to sink into the warm folds between her legs.

  Raf’s firm, steadying grasp around her ribcage slid up to appreciate the soft, pliable curves  of her breasts hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt. His fingers teased the hardened nipples while she manoeuvred her lower body beneath him. She freed her legs out from under his lap so that her thighs hugged around his hips and, in swift order, she ghosted her hands down to find his belt. As she worked to unbuckle it, his mouth caught hers. His tongue teased her lips apart and she welcomed it with her own.

  His kisses had a soft, buttery quality reminiscent of a girl she once loved, and it was a feeling she treasured. His lips, smooth and warm, melted against the tense contours of hers in a sensasion she could only describe as ‘creamy and comforting’.

  She felt his fingers tease her apart, and they traced the contours of her sex with gentle confidence, exploring her geography. Though his mouth worked fervently against her lips, throat, and collar bone, his touch between her legs was restrained and methodical. She had expected him to plunge knuckle deep into the first hole he found–as men in her experience were typically inclined to. But his fingers only teased her entrance before gliding back up her moistened crease to find–

  “Oh-!” Margie flinched as a shock jolted her body. Not painfully, but in a manner comparable to having an icecube suddenly pressed against her, unexpected.

  Raf stilled the moment she had tensed.

  “Sensitive.” His observation was murmured into the crook of her neck before he purred more audibly into her ear, “Sorry, love.”

  She paused. His fingers had begun to work firm, broad circles around her clit in a way that, at first, didn’t feel like it was doing anything special for her. But quickly, she felt a building pressure begin to heat her core.

  Sensitive?

  She wasn’t, though. In the past, complaints had been made that she took too long to get off. Her previous fling had joked that only a jackhammer could provide the adequate stimulation she needed. When it came to sex, she knew herself as a veritable puzzle box of distractibility and dulled senses. It meant excellent stamina and fun sensations, but a proper orgasm delivered in a timely manner required her own effort more than the effort of her partner.

  “No, no,” she began placatingly, “you didn’t–”

  That same heat rose up to prickle her chest and cheeks. Margie pressed her mouth against the top of his shoulder to muffle a reverent, “Motherfucker.” 

  That was not the appropriate choice of words to praise him with, but that’s what forced its way out of her throat. He had found that sweet spot almost as easily as she might have found it herself, which led her to the realisation that she had been robbed–robbed–by previous lovers. What the everloving fuck.

  She couldn’t help but let out a confounded little chuckle into the fabric of his shirt, and he responded with an amused little “Mmh.”

  Without even meaning to, she had tensed her grip around him. Her arms held him tight, with handfuls of his shirt balled into her fists. Her legs had constricted around his waist and the leverage they provided allowed for the needy manner in which her hips writhed to meet his firm and steady touch. It was a greedy moment while she abandoned her attempts at reciprocation, intent on appreciating the way Raf kneaded her between his fingers. Her long drawn sighs of pleasure slowly devolved into a breathy panting–which fell into near perfect synchrony with his purposeful, hastening strokes between her thighs. 

  If she had been paying attention to her breathing, if she had noticed when her voice began releasing a single, ragged note every few breaths, she might have asked for pause. But, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the growing warmth between her legs and the tense swell of pressure gathering in the very pit of her stomach. And it grew, hotter and hotter, with each purposeful, dexterous stroke of his fingers. Oh–she was sensitive, now. Between her thighs, she could feel every small vibration that met her. The way his fingers worked pleased not just her clit, but the rest of her aroused sex as well. Every small movement he pressed into her, she felt across the entire organ. Her thighs closed around his waist as she lifted her hips to find her pleasure against his fingertips. She felt the muscles of her stomach draw tight.

  A sharp gasp preceded a short, trembling “Ah-!” that escaped with her breath. All that tension, that gathering pressure, broke like a wave through her body. It had built up so quickly that the orgasm took her by complete surprise, and she writhed against Raf’s fingers as she rode it out; her face buried into the crook of his neck, eyes shut tightly.

  She didn’t relax her body nor lift her head as the ripples of pleasure subsided, but she felt Raf’s fingers withdraw from her.

  “Hey.” Raf’s voice crooned in her ear, and his hands on her waist pressed her lightly back, coaxing her to release him from the death-grip she held him in.

  Reluctantly, she unfurled from him, uncoiling her arms, and dropping her knees to hang off his outer thighs. The rough texture of denim against  the back of her calves reminded her that he still had his pants on. She came, and he was still wearing pants.

  She hazarded a sheepish glance up towards his face, and was met with a modestly small smile, made very smug by the upward arch of his eyebrows.

  “That’s what you get for the balcony boner, you little shit.” 

  Raf lifted himself off her, but she grabbed the front of his shirt with flustered defiance. “We’re not done!”

  “You sure?” His incredulity wasn’t the least bit sincere. “Because it seemed to me like you–”

  “No!” She scrambled to sit on her knees atop his bed and jabbed a demanding finger towards his waist. “Take your pants off!”

  He hesitated, and for a moment, Margie genuinely worried he’d say ‘nah’. But instead, he leaned in for another kiss and obliged her command. The sound of his belt clattering outcompeted the sultry feeling of his lips for her attention, and her eager gaze turned automatically to assess what she was working with. 

  She had expected to see an aching erection. Usually, by the time the pants came off, guys had been hard as hell and ready to go. Instead, the man who had just rubbed the easiest orgasm she’d ever experienced out of her appeared lightly fluffed at most. For a brief second, she wondered if her playful brattiness had ruined the mood. And then, she considered…that possibly…she just wasn’t attractive to him. 

  She returned her attention to their kiss as she chewed on that thought a bit. As far as girls went, she was a bit of a gremlin. A goblin, even. She wouldn’t dare call herself a ‘woman’ nor even a ‘lady’--those words gave her gender expression far too much credit. But even so, she was mostly comfortable with her appearance. Regardless of that, sloppy tomboys weren’t everyone’s preferred cup of tea, and it didn’t have to be. She had slept with people she didn’t personally find attractive before and it had been fine and dandy, all things considered.

  You can be ugly and still give killer blowjobs. 

  She smirked to herself, and, as she combed fingers through Raf’s hair with one hand, she allowed the other to travel down his torso until her palm curled around the soft, warm skin of his shaft. Her fingertips coiled along the underside of it, tracing a firm, straight line towards the base of the glans, and she massaged the head against the ball of her thumb with gentle, coaxing strokes. 

  His body responded to her touch; the malleable flesh stiffened in her grasp and filled her hand substantially. In return, her caresses grew more broad and firm; the heel of her palm only abandoning the sensitive tip for the brief intervals when her fingers endeavoured to tease and cradle his sack. 

  She felt Raf’s fingertips trace lightly up her spine, beneath her shirt, in a manner that provoked goosebumps. Once they found the loose curls of her hair, they followed her locks up to the nape of her neck, and brushed passionately over the base of her scalp. He hadn’t pulled his lips away from her, except to nip lightly at her jaw and ear.

  A small “Hmm” escaped him, sounding more contemplative than pleased, and it prompted her to pull her gaze back and assess his features. He only mirrored her measuring glance before bestowing a sweet little kiss on her nose.

  "We good?" She asked as cooly as she could manage.

  "Yeah?" His response warbled on a laugh, and it coaxed a reassured smile out of her. "I'd say so."

  “...Gave you another boner."

  "Oh." He glanced down and said with a sardonic tone, "Shit, thanks for telling me. I'd have never known."

  By the time his gaze returned to her, Margie met it with a stony, straight face.

 His amused expression wavered. "...What?"

Holding his gaze, she pressed down on his erection with a forefinger before turning her eyes to watch it as she let it spring upward in a marvellously undignified display of structural tension. The juvenile mistreatment of his manhood left Raf at a temporary loss for words and Magritte stifled her laugh into a snort. Before he could chide her, she shoved both hands beneath his shirt and lifted it, intent on freeing him of the garment completely. With a muffled exclamation, he complied, lifting his arms and finishing the job of pulling it off, over his head. 

Taking the opportunity to plant kisses across his chest and down his torso, Margie didn’t glance up to see his expression as her mouth dragged hungrily past his belly button and over the strip of body hair that led her down, towards the prize waiting for her between his legs. She rested her cheek against him, atop the unruly patch of honey coloured pubes that crowned his crotch, and closed her hand around the length of him. She was hopeless at measuring the size of anything with just a gaze, but he filled her grasp with a satisfying heft and was certainly longer than her hand. Favouring him with a well-appraising hum and a few loving strokes, she lifted her head to face her challenge. She peeled back the foreskin with a tender downstroke, before kissing the sensitive pink tip. 

  The scent of him was far from unpleasant; a heady musk that excited her senses goaded her to take him into her mouth. Slick moisture met her lips when they pressed against his flesh, and, when they parted to draw him in, her tongue was quick to receive him. She held the head of his cock in her mouth as her tongue swirled and lapped hungrily over its smooth contours. He provided texture more than taste; his scent informed the flavour perhaps more than anything else. Inside her mouth, he was velvety, warm, and gratifying to explore. She pulled her lips back over the gentle curves until they came together to kiss the tip again. Her tongue flicked out to lap the head’s underside before the rest of her mouth followed, and she drew him in deeper than before.

  She repeated that course, cherishing every bit of him with her tongue before pulling back to kiss the tip, and then drawing him into her mouth deeper with each successive round. Her thumbs had run up his inner thighs until they found the silky skin of his sack. She held and massaged it gently, appreciating the supple texture beneath her fingertips.

  Initially, Raf’s fingers had teased and entwined themselves in her nest of curls somewhat languidly. But slowly, his hands grew tense against the back of her head, occasionally clenching into fists around handfuls of her hair. She thought–and hoped–that he’d start pulling, but any time he came close to doing so, he quickly released his grip. She could have lamented that, but she appreciated the same restraint applied to the motions of his hips. As a precaution, Margie placed a steading hand around one side of his waist, but she knew from experience that this was poor defence against an overeager thrust. Under her palm, she could feel his muscles tense and flinch. That, coupled with the slight, uneven rolling of his hips, betrayed his urge to buck against her mouth. For his considerate efforts, she rewarded him by trying to decipher and match the pace that his rigidly subdued movements suggested to her. 

  “...Christ.” His breaths had been coming up deep and steady and the muttered profanity was barely audible to Magritte, but she caught it with a thrill.

  In response, she closed her eyes and pulled him into her throat so that her lips were flush against the hot skin of his lower abdomen. Her throat constricted uncomfortably around the intrusion that had smoothed over her tonsils, and she pulled back before it forced her to gag. Taking a deep, steadying breath through her nose, she allowed herself a precious second before swallowing him again. Her throat was no happier for it, but making a man's dick disappear was her favourite little party trick. Raf’s fingers brushed over her jaw in a gesture that permitted her to release him, but she ignored it in favour of challenging her gag reflex a third time.

  “Margie–!” He cupped her face more firmly, and this time, she obeyed what was clearly a request, not a suggestion.

  She pulled back, hollowing out her cheeks so that he left her mouth with an audible *pop*, and turned a sheepish smile up to him. 

  He met her gaze with a mix of awe and incredulity.“Holy shit, warn me next time.” 

  Providing him with an unrepentant shrug, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Too much?"

  “I mean, not if you’re trying to get this done and over with real quick.”

  To that, Magritte flashed her teeth in an impish grin. “Finish him!”

  Her poor yet unmistakable Mortal Kombat impression caused Raf’s brow to crease quizzically before a bark of laughter escaped him. “No, why are you like this?”

  He flattened his palm against her face, and she let out an ineffective chihuahua-like snarl as he irreverently pushed her backwards so that she laid flat on her bed. She landed with a fit of giggles, and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties. He slid them down past her knees and Magritte was able to wriggle the garment down, off her ankles. Kneeling between her legs, Raf grabbed her by the waist and playfully dragged her towards him so that her hips met his.

  As he descended upon her with a flurry of kisses, she felt his erection lay flat across her stomach–the slick coat of moisture it wore from her mouth cooled on her skin. She couldn’t help but writhe eagerly beneath him; one hand in his hair while the other grasped and clawed needily along his lower back. His hands worked much more purposefully. One arm coiled around her shoulders to brace the both of them as the other snaked down her belly, fingertips finding the warm, damp flesh between her legs. He teased apart her lower lips, pressing a firm thumb just above her clit and massaging it gently. His middle and ring fingers skated easily downward to find her opening; tender and wet with her arousal. He pressed a careful finger into her and, when it sunk in with ease, he inserted another. With gentle strokes and twists, he acquainted himself with her; winning pleased hums and a determined roll of her hips as he felt the boundaries of her interior. His breath came up in heavy sighs as he kissed, bit, and sucked the flesh of her neck. She was aware, too, of how his hips rolled against hers with a neediness that mirrored her own. 

  His fingers withdrew from her and, for a moment, so too did his lower body. With keen anticipation, Margie wrapped her legs firmly around him for leverage, sinking her heels into the back of his calves as she lifted her hips up to receive him. He didn’t leave her waiting. She felt his cock press against and part her flesh to make space for itself. Swollen with arousal, her body provided pleasant resistance before surrendering to envelop him. He sank into her with gratifying ease; fitting comfortably between her legs. A delighted gasp escaped her when he drew his hips flush to hers, eliciting a ripple of pleasure that radiated out from her inner flesh, down into her toes. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, and her knees lifted to hold him as closely to her as possible.

  At the sound of her breathy little mewl, a chuckle rose from Raf’s throat followed by another one of his contemplative hums. This time, though, an unmistakable satisfaction boiled in the low rumble of his tone.

  In Margie’s opinion, this was one of the best parts of sex; the initial feeling of having that aching, hungry gap between her thighs filled the warm, hefty girth of her lover. But there was something uniquely gratifying about hosting Raf in this manner, and the reason wasn’t a mystery to her. Without question, he was the most good looking man to ever find himself between her legs. From the first day she met him in Granville Station, she had been charmed by his lopsided smirk, dorky goatee, and aloof demeanour. His torn jeans and goofy dollar store sunglasses hadn’t been able to outcompete the easy charisma and gentle kindness he carried with him. He had a handsome face, a nice body that he took care of, and a mindful confidence that belied the tumultuous anxieties that plagued him. As she had gotten to know him better, she only adored him more.

  ‘Adored’. Hah, who am I kidding.

  She loved him, no revelation there. He didn’t have to rub an orgasm out of her and stick his dick in for her to realise that. She loved easily, and recklessly, and had known she was pooched after their very first jam session. He had been fun to play with, gave her kind praise and honest feedback, and made her feel like he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. That and a pretty face was really all it took to win her loyal affections.

  But he was a skittish creature, and she loved him enough to find joy in whatever form their relationship took. Otherwise, she’d have overcrowded and overwhelmed him, and he–like all the others before him–would have grown to resent everything he initially claimed to like about her. She likened herself to salt; best enjoyed sparingly, and never on its own. It’s why she had been so reluctant to move in with him, despite wanting to spend every minute of her time with him. Too much salt. She feared becoming unpalatable. 

  Well, now he’s balls deep in me, purring comfortably in my ear–which means I’ve got no choice but to make him cum so hard, he sees stars.

  She had tried to moderate her behaviour and failed. She failed the very moment she accepted the keys to his apartment. She failed when he sweetly offered to let her snuggle him in bed so that he could help warm her feet. There had been mornings when she woke up to the maddening feeling of his stiffness pressed against the small of her back. She had remained very still and very quiet so as to not let him know that she had been awake before him, but good lord every muscle in her body had wanted to squirm against him. Without fail, the very moment he woke up, he’d carefully–very carefully–untangle his limbs from hers and turn away before getting out of bed to start his day. And without fail, she’d spend the consiquent morning too cumbrained to even see straight. 

  Just like she couldn’t say no to an apartment key and nightly snuggles, she couldn’t say no to a kiss. She couldn’t help but push it to see where it’d go. And now she was here. Remarkably. Unregrettably.

  ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ said the scorpion, ‘it’s in my nature.’

  A bit too late, Margie realised that Raf’s satisfied rumblings in her ear had been forming actual vowels and consonants.

  “Hm-?” She returned to the present moment with a flinch she hoped he didn’t notice.

  “I like your little noises,” he replied.

  “Oh.” Magritte blinked, running fingers through his hair. She used the back of her heel to caress the curve of his butt with irreverent affection. “Well then, giddy up, Mister Ephrem, and I’ll give you a cacophony!”

  She felt him grin against her jawline before grazing it with his teeth and providing an affirmative little growl. 

  His hips withdrew, only to rock forward into her again. His first few strokes were of a careful, measuring pace until he repositioned his knees further apart and closer to her body. Dropping his forehead down onto the mattress, over her shoulder, he grabbed her waist with two firm hands and pulled her up closer to him. He curled his torso to plunge into her more deeply. The angle of his cock struck a pleasing cluster of nerves inside her body, and she inhaled sharply as it retreated over her swollen flesh to slam back in against it in steady rhythm. Each time, his dick slid out of her until she was empty save for the stretch where they met; the lips of her cunt covetously hugging the contours of the cock’s head. And then he’d part her walls again with a forceful, hungry thrust; smoothing the mounds of velvety muscle that constricted around him and resisted his departing strokes.

  Every few thrusts forced a note of pleasure out of Magritte’s throat, carried on ragged huffs of breath. At first, her punctuated little cries only had to compete against the sound of Raf’s deep, steady breathing and the faint creaking of his bed. But, as her thighs became sticky and sodden from her arousal, the percussive sound of flesh on flesh began to drown out her little moans. Like the true musician he was, Raf searched for the right fingering to coax the sound he wanted out of her. His thumb pressed against the flesh right above her clit and rubbed it in quick, small circles as he continued to drive his cock into her. 

  The feeling of being kneaded firmly between his fingers and his dick provoked a strangled cry that bubbled out of her mouth before she even registered it. A sharp, quavering breath preceded another ecstatic wail, and then another. She curled her arms tightly around the back of Raf’s neck and attempted to muffle the chorus of her euphoria against his shoulder.

  The mounting tension caused her muscles to clench. The way his dick pushed against the walls of her cunt as it constricted around him only intensified the pressure that welled up inside her.

  “Oh, fuck. Fuck.” They were barely words, carrying the same quaking tone as her blissed-out yowls. 

  In response, Raf reached up to roughly smooth her hair back and cradle her head. He buried his nose into her hair, and pressed clenched teeth against her temple in a gesture that might have initially been intended as a kiss. His thrusts had grown desperate and uneven, but the hand that worked her clit remained fastidious in its efforts, bringing her so, so, so achingly close.

  “Good girl.” His voice was a breathy growl against her skull. “Come on, now…”

  Her legs had been wrapped around him so tightly that her muscles ached. But it provided the leverage she needed to buck against him with fervent need. He drove into her with short, rapid thrusts, barely withdrawing to slam as deeply into her as their bodies would permit; hitting up against her tightening core–until the dam of pressure burst to release a flood of sensation across every part of her. In the seconds leading up to it, Margie had fallen completely silent, drawing in a long breath that she held in her chest until the crashing wave of her orgasm forced it out of her. She felt the pulses of pleasure throb in her lower abdomen, caressing the man inside of her in a way that she never consciously could.

  At some point during her climax, Raf’s hands had both found her waist again, gripping her rapaciously as he chased his own pleasure. His breaths came up in short, uneven bursts, and the undeliberate groans being drawn out of him composed the greatest piece of music she had ever delighted in hearing.

  She writhed her hips to meet him at every feverish thrust. Slowing to longer, powerful strokes, he slammed into her once, twice, and with a quiet growl, he buried himself as deeply as their bodies would allow. His strong grip pressed her hard against him, holding her firmly in place as the force of his orgasm punched the breath out of his lungs. As he came inside of her, his hips strained against her body with the feral desire to empty himself deeper.

  This, too, was one of the best parts of sex, Margie decided. She’d never gone about it without a condom before, and while the thrill was almost certainly a psychological one, the verdict was in; she very enjoyed the feeling of having her insides painted lovingly white. She liked it a lot. With the covetous squeezing of her thighs and abdominal muscles, she made it known to him.

  The two of them remained locked together in a hot, messy, panting heap on the bed for an immeasurable moment before Raf nuzzled his face into the crook of Margie’s neck with a long, bodily sigh. She drew a hand up to affectionately caress his neck and the back of his head.

  “W...we good?” Her voice came up raspy, cracking on the second word, and she couldn’t help but exhale a little laugh at herself.

  “Mmh,” was the most Raf could conjure for a long while before he muttered semi-intelligible, “Magnifique.” He echoed her laugh with one of his own before bringing his arms forward to prop himself up, off of her. 

  As she allowed him to decouple from her, she curled her hands under her chin, reluctant to sit up with him…for reasons relating to gravity and fluids. 

  Sitting on his knees with her legs across his lap, Raf provided a mollifying grin that favoured one side of his face. “I, uh–shit.” He dropped his face into one of his palms with a self-deprecating laugh. “Ejected some of my brain cells there, I think.”

  “A shower might help with that,” Margie offered with a broad smile that flashed her teeth. “I’ll take one with you.” 

–

  It had been as though they spent the evening doing any other typical thing. It could have been a night of board games, for how casually Magritte navigated the aftermath of their activities. Raf had expected some manner of uncomfortable, condolatory discussion that went long into the early hours of morning; how they had liked it, whether or not they’d do it again, what it meant for their relationship, if it meant anything at all. But that conversation never occurred.

  Margie had made her enjoyment known while she shared a shower with him, and bestowed easy praise on his ‘excellent fingering’. In turn, he confessed that he could grow quickly addicted to the adorable little trills, yelps, and moans he had been able to coax out of her. Not to mention the other things she could do with her mouth. Dieu, mon fucking dieu. 

  The rest was clear enough to be obvious without discussion. Sex could just be another thing they did together when the mood struck–if it stuck at all. It hadn’t come with any promises or expectations, not any more than playing music or snuggles in bed had. It was the best Raf could have hoped for.

   Magritte seemed wholly uninterested in applying the pressures of romantic commitment onto him. If there was ever anything she wanted, she could never help but to edge it into conversations one way or another–he knew that much about her. Instead, she seemed entirely set on making sure she didn’t bring up anything even approaching the matter. She said she liked things the way they were, and, while his brain could question the truth in that–or in anything she said–he was of much the same opinion. Perhaps they had both come to the same understanding. Something about love, especially romantic love, brought out the worst in people. It had always seemed like a battle of wills; two people trying to deconstruct and reshape one another to fit the impossible moulds that would ensure the longevity of their relationship. How could anyone endure that kind of transformation without poisoning the relationship with resentment? He’d never know. He didn’t have to find out.

  Laying in bed at three in the morning, showered, satisfied, and cosy, with Magritte purring tiny snores in his arms, he couldn’t have asked for more. Whatever it was that he and Margie were enjoying together–friends with benefits?–suited him, so far. For all it mattered, she could decide to move across the sea next week, and he’d be unharmed by the decision so long as they remained on friendly terms. And that felt safe.

   What they had…it felt safe.

#hi-note #rafael #magritte #it's balls oclock and no one is awake #post smut #I've never written a smut before lmfaoo I am so sorry about this

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

Min Ho x reader

No pronouns just you is used, friends to lovers

Another stressful week at attending KISS finally passed with practically your whole life revolving fully around the school. You decided you needed a hobby to take the stress off the heavy workflow. After asking one of your friends, Q, about fun activities that could help with stress and take your mind off of school he started gushing about his outdoor club and hiking saying, “joinmyclubandyourelifewillchangeinwaysyouneverthoughtof!” Or at least that's what you thought he said.

Getting up from your bed you grabbed some clothing you had picked out the night before on your chair and went to the bathroom to get ready not wanting your roommate's new boyfriend to see you changing, again.

Finishing in the bathroom you finished your morning routine and put the athletic clothing on. A light smile to your face looking at it remembering what Min Ho had told you when you went shopping.

Another gasp escaped his throat. At this point, you thought he was just trying to not go back to his dorm room. “What it that y/n! You look like a smurf who got drowned in hair dye! Do you have anything good in there?” His voice was harsh but laced with a teasing hint. You knew he didn't want you to look like, “a smurf who got drowned in tye die,” but it had been two hours of this and you think one of the employees is praying you two get hit by a truck on your way out from the pile of clothes you're going to leave.

He barged his way into the changing room and you gasped, “Hey, my bras on the floor-”

“So? Were friends aren't we?” He responded casually while digging around all the stores' clothes you had picked out for a hike. You scoffed and knew fighting wasn't going to work with him.

Min Ho dug around everything you pulled out scoffing and gasping at the endless amount of “worthless” clothes as he put it. “Wait here, you don't know what looks good on you.” He left as quickly as he entered and after two minutes of finding your bra and underwear hiding under the clothing you had been wearing he returned. “This. Then someone might notice you chon-nom.” He draped the top over your face and grabbed your hand to place the shorts on them. “And this jacket.” He grabbed one of the jackets and handed it to you again. The top on your face slowly fell off your face to reveal your face with an arched brow. Min Ho mimicked the face with crossed arms jokingly. “What?”

“Leave.”

“Why.”

“Because I'm getting changed.”

“That's not an excuse y/n.”

In the end, you had bought the outfit and it honestly was better than anything you could have picked out, but you would never let him know that. You looked in the mirror cupping your butt in the tight fabric of your shorts in your hands with a worried look. You did lightly regret letting him pick the shorts even asking if there were pants but he just said they were, “out of the stalk.”

Leaving the bathroom with the jacket placed around your waist you quickly said goodbye to her and her boyfriend of the week.

“Hey, Q!” You waved, lightly jogging to him and doing some warm-up stretches in the grass.

“Y/n!” He smiled with a small wave back. “Don't waste all your energy yet,” he teased.

“I would never.”

The trail was honestly beautiful, you had never seen anything like it. The clouds might have still been in the sky with the blue sky peeking out and a light mist covering the mountain path but it only added to the comfort of the walk. You stopped to look at the view of the school and took an inhale, your senses overflowing. The smell of the old bark of the trees with some water slowly dripping down its leaves, the still wet dirt that had a hint of mushiness but you still wouldn't call it mud, the smell of fog and damp grass. Your school work and family life had disappeared in the environment. Q was right when he told you it could change your life.

“Hey y/n, keep up” He turned back to look at you but a small smile stretched on his lips. “You like the view?”

“Is it always like this?” You turned to ask him.

“Most of the time. You never really get used to it.” He turned to look back at the city and his shoulders untensed.

“We should do this more.” You made your way over to him but a light scream from you made Q’s eye widen when he saw you take a step back and your footing get loose when a small animal ran past your legs.

“Y/n!” He tried to reach out for you but your body hit the floor and you muffled out another scream when your body rolled a few times. Luckily you were able to stop yourself from falling down the hill anymore but your body with filled with scratches and bruises. Some blood coated your arms and you winced bringing up your hands to look at them. They shook with cuts on the palm and fingers.

“Y/n! Are you alright!” He ran over to you and immediately grabbed you by the arm hoisting you up and over his shoulder. “Shit.”

“Y-yeah I’m fine.” You brought your arms to his shoulders to lightly slap him. “Let’s continue the hike.”

“What? No. You got hurt.”

“No, I'm fine. Just a little cut.”

“A little?” His voice got harsh and he repositioned you on his back. “We’re going back to my place. You can't keep walking you’ll open more wounds.”

“Q, I'm fine!”

“You're going to have to amputate your leg!”

“I’m fine!” You slapped his shoulder again. The two of you slowly made your way down the hill wobbling from side to side at times. You both got to his side of the dorm and he got out his key.

“Min Ho’s going to kill me,” he muttered under his breath almost going unnoticed by you. He finally opened the door and closed it, walking over and setting you down on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get the med kit,” Q tells you leaving for the bathroom.

“You have a med kit?” You ask laughing. You slowly relax on the couch and feel your body melt into the cushions until a loud voice interrupts you.

“WHAT! YOU LET WHAT HAPPEN TO HER?!” Min Ho’s voice echoed through the living room not even for a second before Q fought back.

“She’s not a kid Min Ho! She just fell!”

“And you didn't catch her?!”

“She was a few feet away!”

“You shouldn't have let her go with you in the first place!”

More incoherent yells left the bathroom until you hear Q barge the door open and throw the first aid kit at Min Ho’s chest. He didn't look at you as he stomped down to the front door opening and slamming it. The apartment was quiet as you sat on the couch. Min Ho’s sigh caught you off guard and you whip around to see him a few feet behind you.

“What happened?” You ask with a meek voice not wanting to sour the mood more.

“Don't worry about it,” he spat before widening his eyes. “Bastard.” He cupped your face and rubbed light circles on your cheek with his thumb. His eyes scanned your features and some of the cuts on them, his eyes darting to your lips before he stood up stiffly. “Let's go to my room.”

“What?”

“You. Me. My room.” He turned around a hand on the doorknob of his room. “Come here.”

You stay still looking at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he laughs. “Now, come here, idiot.” He enters his room and looks at you like a kicked puppy.

You sigh getting up trying not to wince at the pain shooting through your legs. He dramatically sighed and placed a hand on his hip, watching you patiently. “I'm not waiting here all day,” he groaned.

Your head snapped up to meet his annoyed face with an equally mad one. You couldn't help but slowly relax your face and bite your lip trying not to smile at him.

Finally walking over to him he places a hand on your shoulder but quickly takes it off when you flinch from his touch. Silently cursing yourself you look at him with apologetic eyes and he slowly places a delicate hand back on your shoulder guiding you to his bed.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed as he kneels down face to face with your scratted legs. He opens the med kit and puts some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. Gently grabbing your ankle with the pads of his fingers treating you as if you were made of the finest china.

He places a cotton swab on a cut making sure to not hurt you but when you wince his grip on your ankle tightens.

“How could Q-” He grits, clenching his teeth.

“It’s not his fault it's mine.” You quickly cut him off not liking wanting him to fight with his friend any longer.

“But you still!” He groaned and dragged a hand down his face not wanting to get mad at you or his friend.

“Just please let it go Min Ho. It’s my fault.” You say regretfully and place your hand on his cheek almost like a lover more than a friend. It almost feels like he leans into your touch but you immediately finch it back and grab your hand.

His eyes almost look sad before he scoffs. “Don’t go treating me like a roach y/n.”

“R-right.” You curse yourself for stuttering in front of him. There's no reason to have your cheeks heat up at him. You’ve known him since the beginning of KISS. He’s helped you study, and pick beauty products, and skincare. You’ve laughed with him, cried, felt real emotions with him. He’s made your self-confidence skyrocket and almost made you a completely different person. A person you wanted to be. Min Ho was your best friend. Right?

He shook his head and went back to placing the rubbing alcohol swab back on your cuts. It was completely silent except for the rapid beats of your heart you prayed he couldn't hear.

He slowly leans up once he's done and you come face to face. Only now did you realize how close he was. The almost nonexistent pours along his noes. The smell of his perfect conditioner and cologne. The soft breath fanning across your cheeks would make you push away anyone if it wasn't him.

“Min-”

“Don’t,” he said barely audible. His eyes darted down to your lips but quickly shot up to your eyes. The both of you slowly leaned in your eyes fluttering close and your lips lightly puckering. Your senses were overloaded when you left the softest lips on you. Your hands remained on the sheets not wanting to grab him and you softly pushed back against him your lips relaxing into the warmth of his own. He released a low groan and pushed back regretfully wanting to cherish the moment longer.

“I thought you liked Madison,” you panted out from doing almost nothing.

“Why would I? She’s, not you.”

@jasminesacademia ty for the request its so perfect for him

@no1aw @luvers-checks @chaotic-world-of-the-j j @angeliquecherie @angel-bi666 @Kay-0823 @timetoten @lovely-hao @nellyboosworld @kisspowy @purplelandsworld @saintomie @saesofficialwife @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @ihyperfixateoncharacters @universal-s1ut @floatinghanmi @weeklyobsessionslol @mimihiraijeon @urfavouritechocolate23 @kisstheskin @renatojr @gay-littlemushroomlover

Comment if you want to be tagged

#GUESSWHOSBACK #pls ppl need to still want him #he has a shrine in my dorm suite #i wish he was real #hes an asshole but i love him #min ho being protective is why i live #xo kitty #netflix #hes so bbg #min ho #netflix x reader #min ho x reader #sang heon lee #xo kitty x reader #sang heon lee x reader #hes so pretty #hes perfect #friends to lovers #oblivious #no one can stop me now #｡˚꩜.no gunsMinHo

[madamecaos]

Sun and Rain

Where Ghost x Witch fem!Reader are Soulmates

Tag: Angst, lil gore, trigger S. Assault

He should’ve known this wouldn’t be a normal mission. He should’ve had a clue, recognizing that everything was all wrong from the beginning.

The intel, the secrecy of whom he was hunting had been cloaked, even from his superiors. But alas, a good soldier only follows instructions.

If only his precarious situation wasn’t annoying. Ghost had experienced the world through the missions he’d been sent to. Deserts frying him with scorching heat or skies blinding with white blizzards. And yet, the humid mild heat of the jungle was the most uncomfortable.

Mosquitos were the bane of his existence, since even batting them away, they would still somehow bite him through the mask. The sweat sticking to the back of his neck made him itch. And Soap noticed.

“You a little twitchy there, Lt,” said Soap, eyeing him, gun pointed to the front as he trekked through the shade of tall trees. A sea of trunks surrounded them, too many possibilities of an enemy hiding.

“Mosquitos,” he said, nothing more to explain.

“Even through the mask?” Soup asked, genuinely surprised like an inquisitive kid.

“The things are monsters.”

From the back they heard a slap, and all turned around in sharp alarm, pointing. Only, to reveal Captain John Price grumbling about the ‘bloody beasts.”

“Keep walking straight, less than a meter away.” Laswell instructed through the comms.

“Roger.” Price answered.

Ghost’s neck prickled in anticipation. He wondered how dangerous was the enemy, since they have them walking in the unamed jungle, with unspecified instructions, step by step directions. Odd.

But the trust in his captain was enough to put him in this position. He promised the intel was good. To trust him, or whatever that means.

And the instructions had come loud and clear. Kill the rising druglord in said coordinates, somewhere in Columbia. But no name was given, no information, no concrete intel. The information found of their own investigation and scouting lead to believe the new druglord was pairing with the top dog, Ignacio “El Brujo”. The new addition in the Colombia cartels had the government nervous, but they had no clue why.

Soap’s money is on technology. Gaz bet it was terrorism, pushing drugs not being enough to move Special Forces into Colombia. Serbia was more his pace.

The pink and orange sky glared upon them as they reached a peak in a jagged hill, giving away downhill to a beautiful mansion. Capital was spent on the vast of its structure. It was a wonder how NASA hadn’t just only seen them from the sky. It was huge.

Even with the sun shining, droplets peppered from the sky, some of it gray clouds.

“Would you look at that,” Soap muttered, the expanse of the rest of the property, a blanket of green and plantain crops in the middle of the sea of mountains. They were literally nowhere he recognized, the tropical sight taking his breath away, pink and orange glowing.

“There’s a saying about this,” Gaz pointed to the still sunny raining sky. “Here in Columbia I think, that a witch is getting married.”

“What?”

“That when its raining and still sunny, a witch is getting married.”

Laswell interrupted. “Approach with caution, we need the target in our hands. Keep conversation tight, over.”

Price answered on their behalf.

And to think, this wouldn’t even be more weird. The mansion was empty.

Only when they broke the entrance, there realized it wasn’t necessary to break in. The door was open, no guards at the entrance.

Until they got to the living room and and saw a sea of dead bodies… dead parts of dead people. The body guards or… and their families. He even had to blink away from the image and its carnage. Some blood on the curtains.

“What the fuck,” Soap spoke out of turn, Price giving him a reproach look, as they had already shut them up.

But as he stepped to the sight, getting in front of the two muscle giants, he realized he would’ve said the same. A whole dinner room that had seemed like a regular family gathering, only bloody with someone’s arm without its owner.

“Ok then,” Price braces himself, steps through to limbs and corpses, acting as normal as possible. Their steps left bloody footsteps on the carpet, a red river in one direction.

They scouted every room, even found one in the bathroom, head banged to death in the mirror, as if he had gone insane.

If he were asked, he would’ve confirmed he felt nauseous. Not himself. Yet, he said nothing.

Room after empty room received the Special Task Force, no other soul in sight. Until they got to the master bedroom.

He couldn’t help but notice the bloody cuffs at the corner of each four post of the bed. Dread curled in his stomach, sweat going through his uniform.

“You ok there, Lt?” Soap asked at his paused posture, not registering.

“Intel finds there might be a secret basement.” Laswell says as if they could do something with that. It was secret.

“Any clue whatsoever?”

“Do you hear that,” Gaz said from the left, heading for the bathroom, gun raised. He pushed the door open, and in the middle, a middle aged man had a gun pointed upwards, pressed to his chin.

“Sir?” Price said, placating. “Put the gun down. We only just want to talk.

“I did it.” He sobs, index finger shaking at the trigger. “I did it.”

He repeats, eyes hazed, over and over again.

“I think he’s high.” Gaz commented, standing the closest.

“Grab him”, Price instructed, and Gaz did so with a side kick to the gun. Slipping the weapon away from the suspect.

“On the floor!” As Gaz brought the suspect for questioning into the bedroom, Ghost offers to check the perimeter for said basement.

Soap invites himself to the exploration.

It was more obvious than not, the only door heading a uncared for pair of stairs, leading into darkness.

“Lights on.” Ghost instructs Johnny from the front. Ghost with a head light, and Soap pointing with a flash light. Gun in the other hand

But nothing was amiss, except Ghost was cold as ice. As if he couldn’t help but shake, jaw trembling inside his mask. He fought through the shakes as they headed down and down, until they reached a normal basement. Walls recently painted white, except the floor. The modern decor was severed by the seven star pointed pentagram spray painted red smack in the middle of the center.

“Look down.” Ghost says.

“What the fuck, “ Soap repeats.

“Soap.” Price commands.

“Found the basement. Two doors to the left. A pentagram drawn in the middle of the room.” Ghost informs, heading closer to the infinite back. It seemed to go on and on, the space beneath the whole mansion. Empty like a parking lot.

“Roger that, see what else is there.” Price says nothing else.

As they get closer to the back, the see a set of doors, turning left to the kitchen.

His ears started ringing enough to be annoying, but not enough to hinder him. His heart started to pound, set on heading a certain direction.

It was sudden and electric, like a fast acting energy drink. The need to be somewhere else.

And he followed the trail. Back to the wall, driven, not knowing where’s he’s heading.

Soap followed silently, not understanding Ghost shift in direction.

Another left, another stairs to a lower floor.

“Damn,” Soap the commented. “Stairs to hell.”

At a sound from bellow, they raise their guns higher.

They were at a disadvantage, the lower floor being darker and not knowing what’s expecting them, Ghost throws a flash grenade, being answered with multiple screams.

Girl screams, and some might be children.

“Price, we got a situation.”

“Possible civilians down in another floor. Might be hostages.” Ghost adds.

His rapid heartbeat hadn’t decreased.

A curious pair of eyes, greeted them, scrunching at the flashlights.

“Special Task Force, put your hands up.” Soap intervenes, being the people person.

Everyone sitting on the floor did so, except one at the back. A girl, head lolled back on the lap of a woman, worrying a cold towel to her forehead.

The girl was still, clothes bloody, beaten to a pulp. Barefoot, naked west down.

Ghost thought her dead, until she moved. With trouble, she turned her neck, carrying a heavy head, curious at the sudden silent.

Lazily looked side ways, eyes barely open.

Eyes made contact briefly before the others closed with exhaustion.

But it was enough for Simon to see something drove him here, and that something was you.

Electricity zapped him from the spine, bringing him to his knees. And in a second, he lost consciousness with Soap’s worry echoing in his ears.

A/n: Sorry for any mistakes, here’s a balloon 🎈.

#ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #task force 141 #fanfiction #cod fanfic

[vivakitkt]

I love you, why don't you love me?

Synopsis: You love Xiao. But how will it take for him to notice you? Then a chance to end your feelings for him. To relieve yourself from the pain. Do you take it?

Warnings: angst/ maybe comfort, !hanahaki reader, reader is implied as adepti(immortal, etc), not proofread

Author notes: So I wrote this at 11pm on new years eve yes i dont sleep but yea finally finished this :') first time writing a piece with a specific character in it. One of my longer pieces as well. Might write pt. 2 👀 Hope you enjoy it!!<3333

Part 1(this story is pt 1) Part 2 Part 3

Loving Xiao was hard

He was closed off, only becoming "close" to the few who he could feel as ease with. Although you tried your best, cooking his favorite dish, almond tofu, being nice to him, taking care of his injures even with his stern protests. But it never was supposed to be you was it.

You were waiting for him at Wangshu inn. Trembling from the frigid cold, clenching onto the thin blanket you were keeping around yourself from the breeze.

Dont want to catch a cold, you told yourself. Not to mention already that you were feeling a little sick in your throat, coughing up more frequently than usual.

It was getting pretty late, you wondered, where could he be?

His food would be getting cold soon and plus it wasn't like him to stay this late without sending you a message. You couldn't even feel his presence around the area.

Should you go and try to find him? Yea. Maybe you should. You know, just to make sure he was okay. As you quickly turned into a puff of smoke, leaving your previous spot into the sky. Soaring through the clouds, you finally spotted the green flash of his teleportation.

As you started to drift down onto solid ground, a few feet away from Xiao, you noticed another person with him.

Huh? Was that the traveler? What was Xiao doing with them? You questioned while staying behind a tree to hide yourself. Xiao was probably just helping them out! Of course he was, the travelers was a nice person anyways. Its not like Xiao had feelings for them or something. Right?

But why was he blushing like that? And smiling like that? You've never seen him like that before despite knowing him for centuries. Did he actually have feelings for the traveler?

I mean, of course who wouldn't? With their courageous personality, outgoing self, and impressive battles. And to top it off, they were good looking. Who wouldn't like the traveler?

It made no sense at all to hate them. You were just being dramatic. All of sudden you started to cough, hard. So you quickly took a step back and disappeared again into a cloud of smoke.

The very next day, you were feeling uneasy. Maybe it was because of the events that took place but also because of that cough that almost gave you away. So you decide to have some tea with Zhongli, to ask him some questions and to chat of course!

Heading over to Liyue Habor to meet with him, you couldn't help but notice the lack of flowers around the area. Although Liyue had beautiful mountains and incredible sunset views, there wasnt a lot of flowers around. A few in the habor but none except for the sweet flowers you saw. Maybe you should talk about it to Xiao or Zhongli.

Finally you arrived and quickly saw the ex-archon with the funeral director Hu Tao.

Ah y/n, what a pleasure, Zhongli spoke, what brings you here?

Oh is this a friend of yours Mr. Zhongli? Hu tao teased, I guess I'll see you later then! She waved goodbye, leaving you and Zhongli both alone

Shall we go for tea? You asked the calm man

As you two made it to a table, you set out the tea and poured some of the rich tea into the porcelain cups.

For you and Zhongli, it was easy for you two to start a conversation. After all you had been with him very early on since he started his archon days. Even being with him when he took Xiao in as his own. However, your peaceful conversation suddenly took a turn as you started to cough hard once again like last night. But this time blood and...flowers dropped out of your mouth.

Y/n! Zhongli shouted, Someone send a doctor! As you closed eyes from the unbearable pain.

You woke up in a bed as you started wrinkle the sheet and proped yourself up with your elbows. What happened? Huh? A sheet of paper writtern, hanahaki disease. As soon as you read that, a doctor entered the room along with Zhongli. The doctor then slowly told you of your disease. A disease where a person who feels unrequited love, will cough up flowers. The only two end results of this disease would either be that the other person returns the feeling or......death. One other possible cure was a surgical removal but the victim will forget the feelings held for their beloved.

Forget their feelings? So you would forget about Xiao. All of the years spent with him, the memories, and all of the small moments when he let his wall down. Would be gone at the expense of you living. Should you get the surgery to forget your feelings about him? Or love him till the day you die?

#xiao angst #xiao x reader #adeptus xiao #genshin angst #genshin x reader #angst no comfort #hanahaki #xiao imagines #genshin writing

[journeytothewestresearch]

Sun Wukong's Final Battle

Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記, 1592) chapter 99 describes the Monkey King's final battle as a fierce, stormy confrontation against demons wishing to steal the hard-won scriptures for themselves. This takes place shortly after the pilgrims and holy texts are dumped into a river by an annoyed river turtle spirit:

Master and disciples had just climbed up the riverbank when suddenly a violent gale arose; the sky darkened immediately and both thunder and lightning began as rocks and grit flew everywhere. What they felt was One gust of wind And the whole world teetered; One clap of thunder And both mountains and streams shuddered. One flash of lightning Shot flames through the clouds; One sky of fog Enveloped this Great Earth. The wind's mighty howl; The thunder's violent roar; The lightning's scarlet streaks; The fog blanking moon and stars. The wind hurtled dust and dirt at their faces; The thunder sent tigers and leopards into hiding; The lightning raised among the fowl a ruckus; The fog made the woods and trees disappear. That wind caused waves in the Heaven-Reaching River [Tongtian he, 通天河] to toss and churn; That lightning lit up the Heaven-Reaching River down to its bottom; That thunder terrified the Heaven-Reaching River's dragons and fishes; That fog covered the shores of Heaven-Reaching River with a shroud of darkness. Marvelous wind! Mountains cracked as pines and bamboos toppled. Marvelous thunder! Its power stirred insects and injured humans. Marvelous lightning! Like a gold snake it brightened both land and sky. Marvelous fog! It surged through the air to screen the Ninefold Heaven [Jiuxiao, 九霄]. So terrified were the pilgrims that Tripitaka held firmly to the scripture wraps and Sha Monk threw himself on the poles. While Eight Rules clung to the white horse, Pilgrim twirled the iron staff to give protection left and right. That wind, fog, thunder, and lightning, you see, had been a storm brought on by demons of yin energy" [yinmo, 陰魔], who wanted to snatch away the scriptures the pilgrims had acquired. The commotion lasted all night, and only by morning did the storm subside. Soaked from top to bottom and shaking all over, the elder said, "Wukong, how did this storm come about?" "Master, you don't seem to understand," said Pilgrim, panting heavily, "that when we escorted you to acquire these scriptures, we had, in fact, robbed Heaven and Earth of their creative powers. For our success meant that we could share the age of the universe; like the light of the sun and moon, we would enjoy life everlasting for we had put on an incorruptible body. Our success, however, had also incurred the envy of Heaven and Earth, the jealousy of both demons and gods [guishen, 鬼神], who wanted to snatch away the scriptures from us. They could not do so only because the scriptures were thoroughly wet and because they had been shielded by your rectified dharma body [zhenfa shen, 正法身], which could not be harmed by thunder, lightning, or fog. Moreover, old Monkey was brandishing his iron rod to exercise the nature of pure yang energy [chunyang zhi xing, 純陽之性] and give you protection. Now that it is morning, the forces of yang are evermore in ascendancy, and the demons cannot prevail." Only then did Tripitaka, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk realize what had taken place, and they all thanked Pilgrim repeatedly (based on Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 4, pp. 363-365).

師徒方登岸整理，忽又一陣狂風，天色昏暗，雷閃並作，走石飛沙。但見那： 一陣風，乾坤播蕩；一聲雷，振動山川。一個熌，鑽雲飛火；一天霧，大地遮漫。風氣呼號，雷聲激烈。熌掣紅銷，霧迷星月。風鼓的沙塵撲面，雷驚的虎豹藏形。熌晃的飛禽叫噪，霧漫的樹木無蹤。那風攪得個通天河波浪翻騰，那雷振得個通天河魚龍喪膽。那熌照得個通天河徹底光明，那霧蓋得個通天河岸崖昏慘。好風，頹山烈石松篁倒。好雷，驚蟄傷人威勢豪。好熌，流天照野金蛇走。好霧，混混漫空蔽九霄。 諕得那三藏按住了經包，沙僧壓住了經擔，八戒牽住了白馬；行者卻雙手輪起鐵棒，左右護持。原來那風、霧、雷、熌，乃是些陰魔作號，欲奪所取之經。勞攘了一夜，直到天明，卻才止息。長老一身水衣，戰兢兢的道：「悟空，這是怎的起？」行者氣呼呼的道：「師父，你不知就裡。我等保護你取獲此經，乃是奪天地造化之功，可以與乾坤並久，日月同明，壽享長春，法身不朽。此所以為天地不容，鬼神所忌，欲來暗奪之耳。一則這經是水濕透了；二則是你的正法身壓住，雷不能轟，電不能照，霧不能迷；又是老孫輪著鐵棒，使純陽之性，護持住了；及至天明，陽氣又盛：所以不能奪去。」三藏、八戒、沙僧方才省悟，各謝不盡。

I really like the idea of a battle between a divine force of yang energy and demonic forces of yin. This is a common occurrence in Chinese Folk Religion—e.g. a Tangki spirit-medium channeling a god to exorcise evil spirits.

But the above description really sets my mind alight with images of the confrontation. Monkey peers through the pouring rain to see an unfathomably large demon army the likes of which the cosmos has never seen. It contains innumerable commanders, vanguards, and an ocean of spirit-soldiers armed to the teeth. This demonic force would be the joint effort of demon kings and jealous gods wanting immortality and salvation for themselves. [1] Monkey takes this assault on the scriptures as a personal insult given his great effort in helping procure them.

A demon commander might say something like, "Leave the scriptures and the priest if you value your life!" Then Wukong would scream:

Who said that? Who the FUCK said that? Who's the slimy, little, demonic shit, twinkle-toed, cocksucker up there, who just signed his own death warrant? [Surprised silence from the army] Nobody, huh? The fairy-fucking-godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! [pounds chest three times in a row] I WILL BEAT YOU ALL UNTIL YOU FUCKING DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Adapted from dialogue spoken by Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket (1987).)

In all seriousness, though, his speech should be a chilling threat similar to Subodhi from chapter 2:

[Y]ou can be assured, wretched monkey, that you'll be skinned alive. I will break all your bones and banish your soul to the Place of Ninefold Darkness, from which you will not be released even after ten thousand afflictions! (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 125) ... 把你這猢猻剝皮剉骨，將神魂貶在九幽之處，教你萬劫不得翻身！

Anyway, the army commences its attack, the commanders sending forth wave after wave of spirit-soldier units wielding thunder and lightning as their weapons. In response, Monkey's body explodes with millions or even billions of hair clones to meet the oncoming storm. Each one wields the magic iron rod, which dispenses pure yang energy along with every ass kicking. The resulting battle is beyond imagination, with various units of Great Sages working to both defend the scriptures and Tripitaka but also drive back and decimate the malevolent force. Wukong succeeds in routing/destroying the entire demon army by dawn of the next morning.

Note:

1) The Buddha states that the scriptures of the Great Vehicle are "for the cultivation of immortality; they are the gate to ultimate virtue" (Wu & Yu, vol. 1, p. 205).

Source:

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.) Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press.

#Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Journey to the West #story idea #Lego Monkie Kid #LMK #scriptures #JTTW #demons #spirits #thunder and lightning #army #epic battle

[redheadspark]

Can a pls request an azriel fic with 5 and 14 June summer prompts together cause I think they could match in very like reader!shyxazriel!more suggestive kind of theme. ❤️🥺

A/N - I think this is beyond cute for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Perfection

Summary - Azriel's hands were always gentle, even when using sunscreen

Warnings - Just some fluff for Azriel :)

“We’re putting lotion on you this time, Az,”

“Not wanting to see your mate with a sunburn again, I take it?”

Azriel chucked a towel over to Cassian to hit him on the head, Cassian chuckling as your mate was now focusing on you and the sunscreen in your hands.  You were already lathering your palms to use on his backside, the cool water beneath you as you were all sitting together out on a dock that was stretched out into Rhsyand’s private bay.  

The summer heat finally arrived, plenty of citizens in Velaris were wishing to go swimming to cool off since some of the time the sun was a bit unbearable to deal with.  Rhysand and Feyre were out of town, up in the mountains with Nyx for the weekend at their cabin.  Since the rest of the Inner Circle was staying behind to keep an eye on the city, Rhysand gave you all free access to his private bay where he would go sailing and get his own personal shipments from other Courts.  You all have used it a few times, merely to cool off and take the edge off with the hot sun.  

This day was just the same.  

It was you, Azriel, Cassian and his mate Nesta, and Mor.  Elaine was wanting to work on her garden at her home with Lucien, not wishing to get herself sunburned as well.  You never minded the sun since you were used to working out in the fields at your old farm.  You also loved to swim, with plenty of places to swim in Velaris you always found yourself swimming and dunking your head over water. 

“Alright, let me see your back and get your covered,” You hummed to your mate, watching him turn his backside to you and stretch his wings out a bit for your to get to his skin and backside.  The muscles rippled under his skin as his arms moved and his wings went wide, the membrane of his wings were illuminated by the sun.  Once you had some of the lotion on your hands at the ready, you were starting from the top of his shoulders and working your way down to get every inch of skin.  Azriel almost hummed in content, the softness of your fingers along his tanned back and the cooling lotion bringing him some relief.

Azriel had one bad incident when it came to being in the sun for too long.  He was used to be out and about with his Spymaster business and working with the soldiers at the Illryian training camp.  But most of the time the sun would be hiding behind the clouds or it would be too cold for him to be affected.  It wasn’t until alt summer when you two went out to the beach in the outskirts of town when he got a nasty sunburn.  

You felt terrible, tending to him as he was stiff as a board with pain along his skin.  Once you made it back to the Townhouse, you gave him After Sun Lotion and gave him lost of water to drink as he was laying on his stomach in your room, unable to move.  Although he reassured you that he was fine, you still felt it was your fault since you weren’t prepared to get sunburned that bad.  

So this time you made sure to pack plenty of sunscreen, even after he rolled his eyes when he saw you pack it in your day bag.  

“Almost done,” You informed Azriel as you were now at the middle of his back, feeling the tense and hard muscles under his fingers.  Azriel just grinned and flexed a bit more, almost as if he was showing off for you.  You giggled, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Hold still!”

“Don’t forget the wings!” Cassian joked as he was now in the water, splashing away while his mate was still on the dock with her feet dangling in the water and her nose in a book.  She was wearing a massive sunhat to block the sun from her eyes, but you saw the small smirk on her face from hearing Cassian joke with your mate. 

“Can’t contain yourself in the water, can you?” Azriel asked in a joking tone to Cassian, whom just rolled his eyes and dived under the water for a brief moment.  You then were at his lower back, getting along his hips and finally got it all covered.  Azriel then turned around, tucked his wings in along his backside, and gave you a peck on the lips, “Thank you, my love.  You turn?”

“Of course,” You replied, turning your back on Azriel as he gathered lotion in his own hands.  You were watching the horizon along the ocean that was right in front of you as Azriel started from the bottom, making you shiver as he chuckled.  The lotion did feel cool like a soothing balm, you leaning forward a bit in relief as Azriel kissed your shoulder.

“Easy there,” He joked, you just smiling as he massaged along your lower back and started his ascent.  Taking his time, he made sure every inch of your skin was being covered and lathered, it felt like he was polishing you like he was polishing Truth Teller or another piece of weaponry.  He was always about precision, and not just in his spying or fighting skills.  He was precise with every single thing: making his bed in the morning, how he made his food and beverage.  So him placing the lotion on his mate was the same as always, precise movements with no sense of imperfection. 

When he was halfway up, he was also massaging along your spine, his thumb finding the right pressure points to make you melt to the floor.  HIs fingers were grazing along the thin straps of your swimsuit that he brought you for the summer, thinking you would look beautiful in it as he gave it to you for your birthday.  Of course, when you saw the piece in the box it was wrapped in, you blushed madly.  But Azriel kissed the top of your head, telling you how beautiful you would look in midnight blue along your skin.

“You look wonderful in this swimsuit,” Azriel murmured to you as he was scanning the suit that you were wearing, “This color does make your hair look lighter,”

“Glad I picked it out for you,” Mor joked as she walked by on the dock, smacking Azriel lightly on the head with her book as Azriel gave her a playful glare.  You giggled from hearing her, seeing her wink at you as she walked by to drop her book next to your leg and slip into the water herself.  Azriel’s hands were still moving and working into your back, getting some of the knots and tight spots that you knew were there from years of labor and working in the field.

Azriel met you after you sold your farm to your Uncle to get some more in your pocket.  You were glad the farm was staying in the family, but you were in need of a change of scenery and you never wished to work on the farm for all your life.  You learned how to work hard of your money, never taking things for granted or waste a dollar on something unimportant.  When you and Azriel met and found to be mates instantly after your first conversation, you knew your life changed for the better.  

He made sure you never had to lift a finger for mundane things, he loved on you constantly and made sure you knew that you were loved and adored by him.  He enjoyed your calming nature and company when he needed it after a stressful day or an unsuccessful mission.  Lastly, when you two had your mating ceremony, he confessed to how you change his life for the better and he would never be the same thanks to you.

He finally made it to the top of your back, caressing your shoulder blades and the bottom of your neck.  Even his scarred hands and palms were beyond soothing and gentle along your skin, as if he was afraid that he would have his scars be imprinted on you through contact.  But they never would, not when he would hold your hand, or caress your face, or wrap his arms around you when you two fell into bed together.  

“Ah, perfection,” He hummed, looking at your backside with a hint of lust but mostly love and affection.  You smiled widely and looked over your shoulder at him, seeing him cock his head at you as he leaned over your shoddier to kiss you gently under the blazing sun.  You both smiled like sunscreen with a hint of sweat, the small flicker of love between the pair of your never diminished over the years.  

“Cool off, you two!” Cassian joked as he splayed water in your direction. You both were splashed, you gasped from how cold it was and Azriel giving him a death glare.  He then moved from you, diving into the water with ease as you watched him and Cassian get into a splashing match.  Watching them splat one other as if they were juvenile youth and had no other care or worry in the world.  

Nesta, looking over her book and both of your mates, just smirked and looked at you.

“Our mate are brutes, aren’t they?” She asked in a light manner.  You nodded in agreement, yet the smile never left your face as Azriel and Cassian were cackling in the water and trying to dunk the other under the waves that were coming in.  

Of course he was a brute, but he was yours and yours alone.

The End.

June Summer Prompts

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar #acotar fluff #azriel acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a #fanfiction #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin

[iamthecomet]

What are the ghouls dressing up as for Halloween this year??

I'm so happy you asked! Cumulus: A Rainbow. Part one of a thruple costume with Cirrus and Sunshine. She knitted some rainbow legwarmers. Found a rainbow striped dress. Summons cumulus clouds to wrap around her horns. But also piles her hair up like one for added effect.

Cirrus: A thunderstorm. Part two the thruple costume. Wears gray leggings and a crop top. Summons thunderheads (complete with little flashes of lightning) to circle her horns.

Sunshine: Part three of the thruple costume. Her namesake. Wears bright yellow. Summons light to make herself literally glow. Covers her entire body in gold glitter for unknown reasons. Aurora: Pennywise from IT. Leaves red balloons around the Abbey in terrifying places. Also spends the day hiding under the furniture and going "georgieee" at every ghoul and sibling who walks by. Mountain: One of the talking trees from the Wizard of OZ. Made from real tree parts. Horrifyingly, the tree part actually talks. No one can figure out how he did and they're all afraid to ask. Aeon: Dresses up as Aurora. She does his make-up and lends him her clothes. Where he got a wig that looks exactly like her hair, no one knows. The heels are a mystery too, but literally no on is complaining. Rain: A Victorian era vampire. White shirt with flowy sleeves. A fitted double-breasted vest. Black pants. Yes, that is real blood on his collar. Dewdrop: The vampire's bride. Couple's costume with Rain. Wears a deep red ballgown. Yes, the nasty bite on his neck is real. Swiss: French maid. The costume is a little small and he insists on bending over in front of his pack mates every chance he gets. He is not wearing underwear. Aether: A Banana. He went to Spirit with the intention of being something sexy, something different. But once the banana costume caught his eye, it was all over. Bonus: Mist: The Kraken. Zephyr: Hermes. Ifrit: Baphomet--boobs included.

#comet comments #shitghosting #halloween

[minimomoe]

Hello - I absolutely love how you write Shunsui! Could I request a scenario that’s him and a female reader? Like him flustering her and not realizing it’s because she’s never seen him with his hair down before?

oooo this is real cute let’s break it down. slightly suggestive at the end, just a smidge. i also wrote this on my phone so i apologize in advance if there’s any mistakes i didn’t proofread lol

Shunsui pressed himself behind you, half teasing, half guiding you through the onsen. He hasn’t stopped grinning since you both arrived, and his infectious smile was spreading to you. You both giggled when he finally dropped your belongings on the floor next to the bed and kissed your temple.

You had offered the idea of coming to the onsen in the first place. Tasks in the soul society was piling up fast, persistent and complex problems that were chipping away from Shunsui’s usual playful behaviour. You felt like you hardly see your lover at all even though you both now lived together. It would be short meet up in the night, with you either half asleep or already snoring by the time he got back, and you leaving before the dawn after you found him snaked around your body just to kiss him goodbye.

You didn’t like it. Shunsui complained about it as well. The other captains were starting to get worried when he was no longer cracking jokes around them, or not teasing Nanao, or even worse, saying “no” to a nap so that he can finish his work earlier to spend more time with you. The statement had everybody clutching their chests and Mayuri wanted to run an experiment on the man when he heard that.

Jushiro, bless his soul, stopped by your barracks to see you in the same despondent manner and sighed. He was aware that physical touch and quality time were important for both you and his best friend, which is why he suggested for you to take a vacation and it was like the storm clouds cleared from your head. Why have you never thought of that? Were soul reapers even allowed to take breaks?

Apparently they were, and you and Shunsui made sure to take advantage of it. You reserved a couple of days and a room at the onsen and sighed wistfully. The view getting there was gorgeous, with green rolling mountains and puffy clouds of whipped cream. You made sure to get a private one, as you weren’t to keen on sharing Shunsui with everyone. Now in your room with the hot spring just outside you stared at the steaming water, already feeling more relaxed that you have in weeks.

“Don’t just stand there. I’m going to get cold all by myself,” Shunsui said behind you. Your turned around to roll your eyes but stopped short when you looked at him. Shunsui always had gorgeous hair. The soft, wavy locks beckoned you to comb your fingers through the strands and you did, all the time. His signature hairstyle was a low ponytail decorated with his hair pins. At most you’ve seen his hair without the pins, but never out of the ponytail completely.

It draped itself over his shoulder, molding around his face to enhance his features. It must’ve been the healing air of the onsen as his hair was shining like silk and the slight breeze from the open back door danced through his hair. It was like you were seeing Shunsui for the first time and found your tongue stuck in your throat. When you caught his eyes you felt your face heat up and then you quickly looked away from him.

“What? What is it?” It didn’t help that his top half was completely bare. His robes hung dangerously low off his hips and he held onto your waist, not letting your hide your face from him for too long. Now in addition to your face you felt heat pooling at your core, getting embarrassingly wet just from looking at him.

“It’s nothing! Just go— get in the water,” you gasped. He started to undress you the same, pushing your robes off your shoulders and kissing the bare skin. He looked up at you with those seductive grey eyes and smiled into your skin. “Without you? Why would I do that?”

You prayed that he couldn’t hear your heartbeat banging against your ribs. “Because I said so.”

“You don’t really mean it,” he pouted. His hand rubbed down your body, not stopping until he undressed you and his eyes lit up from your body unobscured.

“Shun—“

“Let’s get in the water first.” He scooped you up with ease bridal style and walked into the water. It enveloped you both and you immediately sighed. You could feel the tension leaving your body and Shunsui positioned your legs around his body so you sat on top of him with nowhere to hide. You thought closing your eyes would calm you heart rate but the way his hands massaged your body only sped it up.

“Is there something bothering you?” It was an earnest question. You could hear the concern in his voice and you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again you were taken by his beauty. You couldn’t believe that this was the first time you’ve seen him with his hair down.

“You’re gorgeous,” you mumbled, and a smile grew on his face.

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. A big one.” You cupped his face in your hands and shook his face. When you couldn’t handle the eye contact anymore you dropped your head in his shoulder.

“You really like me.” You heard the shit eating grin that accompanied that statement and bit his shoulder. “I like you too,” he laughed. A real hearty laugh that you haven’t heard in a while and it filled your ears pleasantly. “More than like. Maybe I’ll go a little crazy and say that I love you.”

“What’s not to love?” You asked without missing a beat. You lifted your head off his shoulder and combed his hair back with your hands. Water dripped down his face that made him sparkle in the sunlight. You placed a tender kiss on his lips that had him following your mouth when you tried to pull away and smiled. “I love you too.”

thanks for the prompt! please keep asking i love to write them out <33

#minimoe #momowritings #shunsui fluff #shunsui bleach #shunsui x reader #bleach #shunsui kyoraku #shunsui x you #momo answers

[lavampira]

D'ALIA LIVEQ — LITERATURE EDITION

saw @icehearts leave an open invite for this tag game so I’m taking the chance and running with it since I can’t see a gothic lit aesthetics meme and not participate. obviously. and same goes for me, if anyone reading this decides to do it for their character, please tag me to see it!!

BOLD what applies to your character!

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

cobblestone streets / lamps shining out of the fog / the warmth of a fireplace / unopened bottle of wine / the tension between what things seem to be and what they truly are / the heady thrill of freedom / the panic of losing control / blood on the pavement / guilty vices / top hats and walking sticks / self-destruction / old documents tucked away in safes

Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus

rain hitting a windowpane / candles burning low / mountain ranges of white, snowy tops / frenzied obsession / a cemetery at dusk / slaughterhouses / all-consuming thirst for revenge / compassion turned to bitterness and hatred / a sense of duty weighing on your shoulders / inescapable guilt / the frozen wastes of the arctic circle / the feeling of someone breathing down your neck / lighting sparking through the sky

The Picture of Dorian Gray

erotic longing / paint on a palette / golden curls and rosy cheeks / the desperation to cling to youth / bees lazily drifting through the grass / hedonism / the blackness of a soul / a dusty attic / hiding secrets / blood pooling on the floorboards / gut-wrenching jealousy / a dimly-lit stage / temptation into corruption

The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner

cliffs rising up into the clouds / someone ambiguously supernatural always lurking / edinburgh's winding streets / religious zealotry / careful manipulation / family rivalry / a bible written in an indistinguishable language / a face that's always changing and shifting / scottish lairds / something demonic masquerading as something pure

Dracula

letters and diaries / suitors courting a lady / castles nestled deep within forests and mountains / terror of the unknown / the howling of wolves / aristocrats from olden times / a consuming hunger / the dead rising / horses' hooves thundering along a path / blood staining the snow / crucifixes warding off evil

Wuthering Heights

fog over the moors / embracing one who is already dead / a cycle of abuse / vicious, snarling dogs / a house left to ruin / a thorn among the roses / toxic love / ghosts / the howling wind / flowers that have died and begun to rot / wasting away / a voice you can't identify

#ignore the clipping i did this photo so fast after goofing with swtor pals in xiv shdghs #dani.txt #oc: d'alia liveq

[ahollowgrave]

Odette Hollows - Literature Aesthetics

Bold* is what applies to your character!

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

cobblestone streets / lamps shining out of the fog / the warmth of a fireplace / unopened bottle of wine / the tension between what things seem to be and what they truly are / the heady thrill of freedom / the panic of losing control / blood on the pavement / guilty vices / top hats and walking sticks / self-destruction / old documents tucked away in safes

Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus

rain hitting a windowpane / candles burning low / mountain ranges of white, snowy tops / frenzied obsession / a cemetery at dusk / slaughterhouses / all-consuming thirst for revenge / compassion turned to bitterness and hatred / a sense of duty weighing on your shoulders / inescapable guilt / the frozen wastes of the arctic circle / the feeling of someone breathing down your neck / lighting sparking through the sky

The Picture of Dorian Gray

erotic longing / paint on a palette / golden curls and rosy cheeks / the desperation to cling to youth / bees lazily drifting through the grass / hedonism / the blackness of a soul / a dusty attic / hiding secrets / blood pooling on the floorboards / gut-wrenching jealousy / a dimly-lit stage / temptation into corruption

The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner

cliffs rising up into the clouds / someone ambiguously supernatural always lurking / Edinburgh's winding streets / religious zealotry / careful manipulation / family rivalry / a bible written in an indistinguishable language / a face that's always changing and shifting / Scottish lairds / something demonic masquerading as something pure.

Dracula

letters and diaries / suitors courting a lady / castles nestled deep within forests and mountains / terror of the unknown / the howling of wolves / aristocrats from olden times / a consuming hunger / the dead rising / horses' hooves thundering along a path / blood staining the snow / crucifixes warding off evil

Wuthering Heights

fog over the moors / embracing one who is already dead / a cycle of abuse / vicious, snarling dogs / a house left to ruin / a thorn among the roses / toxic love / ghosts / the howling wind / flowers that have died and begun to rot / wasting away / a voice you can't identify

][ Tagged by: ][ @ubejamjar @snakemoltsiren @thefreelanceangel ][ Thank you!!

][ Tagging: ][ @hazelkjt @this-is-ris @nolanel-corbeaux @the-sycophant & You (: ][

#Pigeon Screens #Character sheet #odette Hollows #ahHHHHHHHH this was fun thank you guys for the tags!! #and no pressure to those I tagged <3