#their ship name is time petals...

[joyyystick]

the doctor: so the year 5 billion. the sun expands, the earth gets roasted- rose: that was our first date. the doctor: *sounding absolutely infatuated* we had chips... i need to be sedated. someone fucking sedate me.

#doctor who #modern who #tenrose #rose tyler #tenth doctor #timepetals #their ship name is time petals... #oh my god

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (11) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: finally, coriolanus can call you his. 

word count: 2,423

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, pet name (petal), not proofread 

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen when he asked for your hand. 

He had just graduated from the Academy—no thanks to Dean Highbottom—and he was due to ship out to whatever Peacekeeper base he was assigned to by the end of the week. He was fine with the idea of being a Peacekeeper. As fine as he could be, at least. Because his father had been a general during the war, people could easily believe that his enlistment was to honor his father—not because the Snows were penniless. His brilliance demanded more, of course, but he could come back to the Capital eventually. Perhaps find clever ways to invest his money. 

The worst part, though, was the idea of not seeing you again. He loved, no, adored, his verbal sparring matches with you. He adored how you got a rise out of him so easily, as if you weren’t even trying. He adored the way you occupied his every thought. To not be able to hear you rant, or see the way a smirk would curl across your face when you discovered something particularly clever to say, would be the death of him. 

He surely looked pathetic, standing in your father’s office, his hands clasped together to hide their shaking as he asked, “Sir, could I please have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Your father scarcely looked up from his paperwork. “You’re shipping out soon, are you not? Or did my friends at the Peacekeeping Office mislead me?”

Coriolanus swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. But your daughter…I have never met a more brilliant person.” More quietly, he admitted, “She makes me want to be a better man.”

Your father glanced up, quickly, then looked down again. “She deserves a better life than one on a military base.”

“I agree, sir. I will provide her one. I don’t intend to serve the rest of my life.” Intent and reality were different. Competing. While Coriolanus might not want to be a Peacekeeper forever, he very well might be. “I already have a ring for her.”

He opened his hand and placed the ring on your father’s desk. It was a family heirloom. One of the few that hadn’t been sold off to pay their debts. His Grandma’am insisted that he keep it. He would need it, after all, for when he found the woman he wished to marry. And for every night after that day at the opera, he had pulled it from his nightstand and imagined how it might look, sitting prettily on your finger. 

Your father glanced up again and pushed the ring away. “Ask again when your service is up.”

Every part of Coriolanus wanted to scream and shout and insist that he be granted your hand. No one could love you better, he was sure of it. But fighting your father…That would ensure he never got to marry you. So, he swallowed again, plucked the ring from the desk, and thanked your father for his time. 

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen, still, when he asked for your hand again. 

Over the last several months, he had worn that ring alongside his dog tags. It was his only rebellion he had against the strict Peacekeeper regimen. It was his only reminder of what he was fighting so hard for. And now, after the Plinths had found some convoluted reason to grant him a portion of their fortune—something about a debt that Sejanus owed him in school—he was back in the Capital. 

Your father was leaned back in his chair as Coriolanus asked again, making his case for why he would be a dutiful husband. When he finished, your father said, “The ton knows how your wealth was squandered after the war. How you were only saved from ruin by the generosity of the Plinths.” Your father practically spat on their name. “Why should I let my daughter marry into that?”

“I would never let her experience financial ruin, I can promise you that. What happened with my family was, is, a travesty. But we are a proud family, and we have been working to rebuild ourselves. There was hardly a family not so afflicted by the war. We might have had a boost by the Plinth family, but I will not allow our good name to be sullied.”

Your father eyed Coriolanus, scrutinizing every details. From how new his suit was, to the buzzcut that was slowly being grown out. “I don’t doubt that. But I will need more reassurance that my daughter will be taken care of. You have to understand.”

Coriolanus could only nod, scared of what acid might fall from his lips if he deigned to speak. 

“Ask again when you make a name for yourself.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty when he asked again. 

He was the King now. The Electors had granted him the title after the Former King Ravinstill passed. Coriolanus had fought like hell, clawed himself up from the pits of poverty, to get to this moment. He made sure he did everything right. Carefully coaxed the Electors and their families into thinking he was a friend. Convinced them that he would do right by Panem, do right by the Capital. Honeyed his words at every turn. But he did not care for any of that. All he wanted was to have you by his side, protected against any harm that may come your way. The only thing that stood in his way was the man standing before him. 

Your father stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. Coriolanus barely had gotten the question out when your father said, “You have gone to great lengths to make a name for yourself these last five years.”

And he had. He barely participated in the social seasons beyond speaking to the families in power. Speaking to those who would have sway in his appointment as president when the time came. He made no time for himself. Coriolanus had a goal, and he would be damned if he didn’t meet it. 

“None of it matters if I do not have a powerful woman by my side,” he said. 

Your father let out a chuckle. “She is something, isn’t she? I worry what she might say if I tell her that I’ve given her away without even consulting her.”

The answer was no, Coriolanus realized. Nothing he did would be good enough for this man. “Sir, with all due respect, I will come here every week and ask for her hand. There is nothing in this land I want more. Your daughter is…Everything to me. And I would give her everything just to make her smile. So, please, just tell me what I must do for you to give her away.”

Your father stared for a long, silent moment. “Court her. Properly. Only then will I say yes.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still, when he received your hand. 

After a promenade in the square, after a spat where you thought yourself to be little more than a pawn in his game, Coriolanus had come to your father’s office. He could not prove his love to you during this courtship, not when you still thought there was a chance he would change his mind. No, he could only show his love when you knew that he had dedicated everything to marrying you.

Your father stood in front of Coriolanus. He hadn’t even gotten the question out when your father said, “I suppose this will be the last time you come here like this?”

Coriolanus swallowed the proud smirk that dared to cross his face. Finally. Finally a yes. “You can rest assured that she will want for nothing.”

“I don’t doubt it with a man as persistent as you.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still yet, as he stood at the altar, watching your father leading you down the altar.

You were a vision in white. Tigris had adorned you in a beautiful gown, white roses embroidered on the skirts and your lacy long sleeves. A veil obscured your face from him, but he was sure you looked like a proper Queen. The sort of woman that would send the proudest of men to their knees. And he would gladly kneel before you. 

You stepped up to the altar alone, your father taking a seat beside your mother. Coriolanus reached for your hand and didn’t let go as you stood in front of him. 

“You look beautiful,” he said. 

“Thank you, Coryo.”

He hoped you were smiling behind the veil. He hoped you were as happy as him. And he was sure you were when you whispered, “Do you think the officiant should faint if you kissed me now?”

Coriolanus laughed so hard that he considered kissing you right then and there before whisking you away to his private chambers, the rest of the ceremony be damned. “You are wicked, petal, for teasing me like this.”

“You take pleasure in it.”

And, oh, how he did. 

Coriolanus never despised events more than when the ton celebrated his marriage while he bided his time to love you the way you deserved. He was tired of entertaining people. It was a beautiful ceremony and even more beautiful reception, to be sure, but Coriolanus could not stand the amount of people approaching him to offer their congratulations. Not, at least, when he was trying to kiss you and dance with you and tell you how he loved you. 

You patted his hand as his knuckles turned white, clutching the arm of his chair, when yet another person came up to speak to him. “You need to relax. The ton is going to think that something is wrong if you keep acting like this.”

“Something is wrong,” he muttered. “I can’t even enjoy my time with my wife because everyone thinks they’re more worthy of my time. Worse yet, not a single one of them has so much as acknowledged you.”

How frustrating that was. Did the ton only think of you of some pretty little thing to hang off the King’s arm? Of course they would be so simple-minded. They did not realize you were the most brilliant person in the room. Perhaps more brilliant than him. They did not realize that you were his Queen and you were worthy of their respect. Oh, how they would learn when you would demand it—because he knew you would.

“And you can make that known later. Coryo, this is a day of celebration. Let them be frivolous today. Remind them of who you are and what that means later.”

Coriolanus released his grip on the chair. He took your hand in his own and rubbed his thumb over your fingers. “Who we are,” he corrected.

“Who we are,” you amended. 

A smile tugged at his lips. “They’ll learn to bow before you.”

“I don’t want anyone to bow before me.”

“What do you want? I would give you anything. All you need do is ask.”

You said nothing. That is, until a new song began to play. You rose from your chair, and Coriolanus followed after you. “I would like to dance.”

Coriolanus led you to the middle of the floor, trying his best to mask his displeasure. He knew you better than to know you want nothing. Your family was well-to-do, but everyone had to be conscious of their spending as the Capital rebuilt itself. It was not lost on Coriolanus that your mother carefully rotated your wardrobe, ensuring that enough time had passed between one time you wore a gown and the next, less the ton realize that your family could not afford to constantly buy new dresses. Tigris had told him how you would come in to have your dresses tailored, how you could always eye the new fabrics she bought. How sometimes you would stay long after the tailoring to watch her design gowns. With him as your husband, Coriolanus would buy you as many gowns as you wanted. He would buy every book you were interested. Hell, he would adopt every cat in Panem and allow you to name them Coriolanus the III, IV, V, and VI and so on if it meant you were satisfied. You might never ask for it, but he would give you the world. 

The ton watched as Coriolanus held onto your hand, the other falling to your waist. The music began to pick up as he spun you ‘round and ‘round and ‘round the floor. All Coriolanus could focus on was you. The rest of the room seemed to melt away. He pulled you closer, your body flush against his. Oh, how he loved you being this close to him. How he could hold you like this and no one could tell him any different.

You didn’t seem to be as captivated as him. With every turn, you would glance over at the crowd, displeasure fighting its way onto your face. 

“Ignore them. They are not worthy of your attention,” Coriolanus murmured. 

“They’re like vultures, waiting to see me, us, trip,” you said.

“Prove them wrong, then.”

“Why should they care about what I say and do? They only view me as an extension of the King now,” you say, your nose wrinkling. 

Coriolanus spared a glance at the crowd. Yes, he supposed they probably did. People in the ton so rarely appreciated true wit. Now that you were his wife, anything remarkable you did would be attributed to him. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Then make then listen. Make them see. Show them the woman I fell in love with.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, petal,” Coriolanus said, his voice a near growl. “You matter to me, and so you shall matter to them.”

You said nothing, much to his ire.

He let out a breath, careful to not lose his temper with you. You didn’t deserve that, not when you were being vulnerable with him. Not when you were finally showing him the parts of you, you kept so artfully hidden. “Tell me, what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”

You tore your eyes from the crowd and looked up at Coriolanus. Your mouth opened and, for a second, he thought you might tell him the truth. Instead, you only said, “It doesn’t matter.”

Oh, petal, when would you realize that you were all that mattered?

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[staretes]

to sail a ship

synopsis: when you first boarded the express, you immediately managed to become close friends with the archivist of the express.  but march doesn't miss the softness in dan heng's eyes, reserved only for you. likewise, march watched as you awkwardly tried to make conversation with him, tinges of red dusted on your cheeks. ever since then, march has made it her personal mission to get the both of you together thankfully for you two, march has the knowledge of hundred of romance shows at her disposal.

tags: dan heng x reader, fluff w.c: 1.5k a/n: aaah first oneshot ^_^ reader is gn, however, they are described by himeko as pretty

phase one: get both of you to recognize your feelings for each other! 

"so (name), what do you think of dan heng?"

"huh?!"

march's question's caught you off guard as you started scrambling for an answer. the both of you were in the express parlor car, sipping on juice, when march suddenly popped the question out of the blue. "he's great. i mean, he's a pretty reliable member of our team." you laughed nervously, familiar hints of rose creeping up your face.

"well everyone knows that, but would you date him?" march pressed on.

"uh…" march could practically see the gears turning in your head. but once march saw the small shift in your eyes and the light roses on your face blossoming into crimson petals, she knew her work was done.

"oh no!" march gasps "i totally forgot, i promised to do something for himeko!" she stood up. "bye bye! let's chat again another time, okay?" and before you could get a word in, march had skipped off to her room giggling, leaving you to mull over your thoughts.

however, dan heng proved to be a little (a lot) more challenging. 

“hey dan heng, what do you think of (name)?��� march inquired after barging into his room after “needing help” with her camera.  “they’re a good friend.” dan heng responded curtly, keeping his eyes locked onto the data bank. “if you don’t need anything else, please leave. the archives is not a place for chitchat.”

after march was forced to leave sulking, she had no choice but to drag himeko into it.

himeko manages to corner dan heng after a meeting with the other express members. “dan heng, how do you feel about name? aren’t they pretty?” 

after hearing that last part, dan heng’s ears turns scarlet, and he only manages to muster out a small “mhm”. 

himeko watched him stumble over his words, and teases, “it’s obvious you like them a lot, you should ask them out! you two look cute together.” 

march, watching dan heng excuse himself with his face glowing red from afar, silently promises to treat himeko to a large cup of coffee

phase two:  help both of you pursue each other!

you used your shirt to polish the little keychain that you bought at a souvenir shop at a planet the express stopped at that day. as you awkwardly stood outside dan heng’s room, you couldn’t help but remember how you got here. 

you were shopping for souvenirs for pom pom with march, when she excitedly tapped you on the shoulder. “hey, doesn’t this cat look like dan heng?”  you squinted at the keychain of the cat. the little white cat had red, black and teal spots and a grumpy expression carved into its face with gold. besides the cat, there were little maple leaf charms hanging from the keychain.  it really does look like dan heng, you smiled softly. march, noticing the awe on your face, giggled, “you should buy it for him! he’ll like it a lot!”  “you think so?” you looked at her apprehensively  “if its from you, of course he’ll like it!” march laughs, pretending not to see the faint blush on your cheeks as she pushes you towards the cashier. 

as you stand outside the door dan heng’s room, hesitating before knocking on it softly.  the door swings open, and dan heng looks surprised to see you. 

“ah, (name), i was just looking for you.”

“huh?” you looked at him in confusion. “do you need anything?”

“it’s nothing important. it’s just…” he holds out a small phone charm. your breath hitched. it was made of sparkling beads of your favorite color and at the end, there was a little cat charm that bore a resemblance to you. "you mentioned once that you were fond of cats, so i thought you would like this phone charm.”

you take the phone charm and cradle it gently in your hands, before tenderly attaching it to your phone. “ thank you. i'll cherish it forever,” you whispered with a small grin on your face. 

noticing his gaze fall on the keychain still tightly in your grasp, you suddenly felt heat rise to your cheeks and neck. you almost forgot!  , “i got you something too! i was at a shop with march and it reminded me of you, so… here!” you ramble hurriedly as you put the keychain into his hands, ignoring your racing heart when your hands make contact.  “thanks for the phone charm, i really like it! sorry for disturbing you, have a great night!” you bow to say your goodbyes as you hastened to return to your room.

dan heng, who was left at his doorway in a daze, shuts his door as his hands are gently clutching the keychain. as he carefully inspects it, he smiled softly as his heart flutters in his chest. his cheeks are red as he furiously typed a long thank you to himeko for helping him pick out the phone charm. 

phase three: wait for the confession!

dan heng was unable to sleep that night. 

his head was filled with thoughts from his interaction with you. his heart is still beating wildly at the sight of you holding the phone charm he gave you as if it was the most previous thing in the world, before giving him something because it reminded you of him. he feels his lips form a small grin endearingly. aeons, he really did like you a lot. he tosses and turns before giving up and goes to the parlor car to try and put his mind to rest. 

his heart skips a beat when he finds you sitting there, looking into the blank space absent-mindedly. he greets you with a small “hello.” as he sits next to you

you snap out of your thoughts, and smile nervously, “hey. can't sleep either?"

he nods, and you both sit awkwardly in silence before dan heng speaks up "i realize that i never thanked you for the keychain. thank you. i like it a lot." 

you beam, and dan heng feels his heart melt. "it's no problem. actually, march helped me pick it out" you admit. "although i didn't expect you to remember that i liked cats."

"you mentioned it once. of course i remember. " dan heng responds, amused. 

you bring up the topic of how the little cat on the end of the keychain you gave him was a calico cat, and you liked those because you found them cute, and dan heng once again remembers that it reminded you of him. the two of you chat late into the night, dan heng's eyes growing softer and softer as he watches you passionately rant to him about everything that piqued your interest recently. you were just so captivating. 

"how about you? what's on your mind recently?"

"you."

the word slips through his lips and before he realizes what he said, your face has turned completely red.

he stammers as he tries to pull himself together, "i apologize, i didn't mean for it to come out that way i-" 

"you've been on my mind recently too." 

you whispered softly, looking anywhere else but him. "hey, we still have a six days before the express leaves this planet, and i saw a small café in the main city when i was hanging out with march. do you want to come with me tomorrow? "

dan heng's heart soars as a small flicker of hope alights in his chest. "yes, i would like that." he nods, ears still a shade of crimson.

"great!" you smiled in relief. "as for the meantime though-h…" you yawned, stifling it into your mouth.

"are you tired? it's late, you should head back to your room" dan heng furrowed his eyebrows. "come on, i'll walk you." he stands up. 

you nod sleepily, eyes half lidded, as he puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you to your room. as he watches you lie down on your bed, he can’t help but think about how soft your bed looked compared to his mattress. reluctant to leave you, he tells himself that you needed to rest, so he wishes you a good night and begins to leave.

"please stay."

he hears your sleepy voice behind him and pauses. "you can sleep in my bed tonight. i don't mind.

he hesitates, before lying down next to you. pillows and stuffed toys are scattered throughout the beds.  it's cute. he smiles tenderly. he feels you inch closer and closer to him until your head is on his chest. he relaxes as he cards his fingers through your soft hair. "good night, (name). sweet dreams."

the next morning, march peeks through your door, intending to talk to you about dan heng, and instead finds the two of you fast asleep, dan heng's arm wrapped around you, legs intertwined together. the plan worked better than she intended, she grins smugly and takes a picture to send to himeko, never intending to let the two of you live it down.

mission accomplished!

#[✦ - archives!] #dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #hsr imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #dan heng imagines #hsr fluff

[glassartpeasants]

Birds of a Feather

Eustass Kid/Killer x F!Reader

Warnings: Slight gore, blood, angst, fluff, hanakai disease, long fic and tiredly edited

A/N: This took to long to write and to long to type but thank god it's over. Now i can put myself through more self induced torture <3

~~~

It hurts to even hear about him. Even hearing his name felt like cyanide bubbled in your lungs. The pain was something you’ve never experienced before or think you’ll experience again. If you survive first, that is.

It’s been six months since it started. You remember the day the first petal left your lips.

“Oi (Y/N)!” His voice calling your name had your heart skipping a beat. It was like an addictive melody you never wanted to stop. Looking in his direction, you see Kid walking towards you with a scowl on his face. You watched as he passed by the multiple incapacitated Marines that everyone had just finished fighting.

“Yes, Captain? How can I help you?” The way his amber eyes looked down on you had your toes curling in your shoes.

“You almost got Killer hurt 'cause you got your head in the fucking clouds! He had to save your dumbass 'cause you couldn’t see a marine charging straight in front of you, so he had to step in front of you!” Guilt ate you as you lowered your head and fiddled with your fingers. You didn’t mean to zone out; you just happened to look in Kid’s direction and saw him beating every Marine that crossed his path. He looked so beautiful. The way he carried himself and how his laughter rang made your heart do flips. To entranced with Kid, you didn’t see the marine charging at you. Thankfully, Killer did and came to your aid.

“I’m sorry. I just lost focus for a second. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“Your right it won’t. Cause next time it does, I’m kicking you off the ship. I don’t need weak losers who can’t defend themselves on my crew.” Feeling yoru lip tremble, you try to control your breathing. The last thing you want is to cry in front of him.

“Understood.” With those final words, Kid turns and leaves you standing on the battlefield where tons of defeated Marines lie. As soon as Kid’s footsteps leave your hearing, is when you finally let the tears slip down your cheeks. An unbearable urge to cough erupted in your lungs from the lack of air you inhaled. With a harsh cough, you feel something unlodge from your throat.

Looking down, you see a petal slowly descend to the ground.

“What the?” Grabbing it gently, you study the petal. Trying to figure out if it was the thing that came from your throat.

“(Y/N)! Let’s go!”

“Coming!” Looking down at the petal, you drop it and run towards the Victoria Punk.

~~~

You stand along the railing of the ship as you look at the sunset. The beautiful sight only made a frown appear on your face as the memory of that day sours the scenery.

Remembering the memory more clearly, had another cough leaving your lips. It had tears brim your eyes at the sheer intensity of it. This time, it was the most painful cough yet. When you look down towards your arm, you feel your heart stop, and your eyes widen.

Small bits of blood covered your arms as three white petals laid against your skin. Specks of blood scattered across your skin, and spots littered the flower petals as well. You knew that the flower those petals came from was a white carnation. 

Moving your hand to your lips, you gently rub your fingertips along your mouth. Looking down at your hands, you're met with horror, and time stop. A newfound fear made home in your head as you looked at the scene in front of you. The beautiful sunset was replaced by a painful surprise

~~~

Standing in front of your mirror; your eyes can only hound in on the gorgeous carnation that has seemingly bloomed on your cheek overnight. Instead of the gorgeous white petals, you coughed the day before, it was fully bloomed yellow carnation.

Your hand shakes as you reach up to touch the flower. It’s soft petals brushing against your fingers. Gently grabbing the eternity of the flower, you carefully try to pull it off. You hiss, realizing the pain that followed. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath before harshly ripping off the cursed flower.

“Fuck!” Grabbing your cheek, you see blood slip through your fingers. Looking around, you see a clean white tank top peaking out from your dresser. You quickly grab it and push it against your cheek. Considering the tank top was so thin, you needed to grab a bandage right away. Unfortunately, the infirmary was a bit away, and it was daytime; who knows who’d be out and about? What if someone saw you? All you could do was run as fast as you could and pray no one saw you.

Grabbing the door handle, you open it and close it as quickly as possible, making a dash for the infirmary. You run as fast as you can without drawing any attention to yourself. Yet just as you see the infirmary door, a familiar voice calls to you.

“(Y/N)? What are you running for?” 

‘Shit, it’s Killer.’ You try to give him a quick answer, but the now bloody tank top catches Killer's eye.

“Holy shit (Y/N)! What the fucked happened?!”

“It’s nothing! No need to worry!”

“That cloth is basically drenched!” Killer walked towards you and finally managed to get a good look at you as he grabbed your arms.

“Let me see it.” You gulp before gently lowering the tank top. The small patch of missing skin finally gets air.

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. So please, Killer, drop it. I promise I’m okay. I’m nothing you need to worry about.” Killer’s grip loosens as he looks at you.

“Fine. But I’m fixing it.” Knowing that you weren’t getting out of it any more than you did, you agreed and followed him to the infirmary. The awkward silence suffocating.

“Thank you. You don’t have to, but thank you.”

“It’s…no problem.”

~~~

Killer did a great job patching your wound. He was so careful and treated you like you were made of glass. It’s been forever since you’ve felt so much care.

Thankfully, you never coughed when you were near him. If he reacted like that about your cheek, how’d he react if he saw you cough up blood and a random flower petal? A freak-out would probably be the proper reaction. The only freakout that needed to happen was yours when more flowers bloomed on your skin. Many of them you’ve never seen before. The same happening with the petals you coughed up.

A week has gone by since then, and every flower petal you’ve coughed up and every flower you’ve picked from your skin you kept and put in a box under your bed. You wanted to identify them and possibly see if there was any meaning to any of them. They had to mean something, right?

To your luck, the Vicotria Punk was stopping at an island to get supplies. You could get off and hopefully find a florist or a book to tell you everything you need to know.

“Everyone get ready to dock!” Kid’s voice boomed across the ship, making you grab a mask quickly and the box of flowers you’ve kept hidden under your bed. It wasn’t even seconds after you left your room is when the heat started killing you. While it was your own fault due to the fact you had to cover up every ounce of skin just to make sure the flowers stayed hidden, it was miserable. The flowers that corrupted your body tortured you in more ways than one.

Despite the dreaded heat, you quickly run off the ship, box in hand, and make your way to town, only to be stopped by a strong arm grabbing your shoulder. Turning your head, you feel your cheek heat up, seeing Kid looking at you.

“Where the hell are you going dressed like that?” You didn’t want to lie to him, but he was the last person you wanted to know about your struggles.

“Just disguising myself so I can go into town and grab some things without having the Marines be called.” Smiling up at him through your mask, you can feel your palms start to sweat as you hope it is enough for him.

“And the box?”

“Clothes that I’m gonna get rid of.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to hide your nervousness.

“Alright. Grab me a screwdriver. Lost mine.” Kid let go of your shoulder and started to turn around.

“Yes, Captain!” Turning back to town, you begin your journey once more. 

The sun beats down against you as you look desperately for a florist or bookstore. The town was smaller than you originally thought, and it made you fear that neither would be available. What would happen if you couldn’t find it? What would happen to you?

“Oof!” While your mind ran wild, you missed the small old lady who had come out in front of you. Falling backward, you drop your box of flowers, causing them to pour out. The bloody flowers and petals out on display.

“I’m so sorry miss! Please forgive me!” Looking up, you see the little old lady smiling at you before looking at you flowers.

“What are those dear?” Seeing your flowers scattered about, you immediately tried to hide them all up back in the box.

“O-Oh! Nothing! Just some arts and crafts!” You let out a nervous chuckle, hoping she couldn’t see past your lie. But the way she looked at you up and down let you know that she didn’t believe you for a second.

“It’s hot outside; why are you wearing something that could give you heat stroke?”

“I just get sunburnt easily! No one likes that, right?” Before you could say another word, the old lady’s face turned serious.

“Come with me. I know.” Before you can utter another word, she grabs your hand and starts dragging you out of the public eye. You thankfully managed you grab your box before she started dragging you into an alley. It was clutched tightly in your hands as you followed the old woman to wherever she was taking you. Simply looking at her, you didn’t deem her a threat, so you just let her drag you.

A small shack behind the bigger buildings comes in sight. The lady drags you harder as you try to figure out what’s going on.

“Hey, uh, where are you taking me?”

“Must talk in private. Your in danger girl.” Her words made unease rise in your gut as you allow her to drag into the small shack. Made from wood, you see tons of trinkets and what some would describe as a ‘witches cabin’.

“Sit girl.” The woman sits you down before standing in front of you. She looks you up and down before grabbing a book from her bookshelf and sitting in front of you.

“Who are you? Why did you drag me here? Where exactly is here?” Question spiraled in your mind as the lady grabs your box and opens it without a heads up.

“Hey! What do you think your-”

“Worse then I thought.” Her words cause a bead of sweat to run down your forehead. Putting the box down, she grabs your hand and holds it with both of her own.

“Your in danger girl.”

“Danger? What are you talking about?”

“You carry a disease that only victims of one-sided love can obtain. Your attire and the box of bloody flowers tells everything.”

“What?! That’s impossible, no way!” You try to rip your hand from hers but her grip was stronger then you could have ever thought.

“The flowers that adorn your skin only bloom on those with an unattainable love. Your mask covers up the petals you cough up does it not?” Her words cause your heart to stop as you look at her with wide eyes. How could she know something like that? You’ve only met this woman today and she’s already telling you things that only you knew.

“How did you-”

“I too once suffered the disease you carry. I know when someones infected when i see it.” Words seem to get stuck in your throat as you racked your brain on how she could possibly know that your in such a position.

“Who is the person you love?” Stuttering, you finally managed speak.

“My Captain. I’m in love with my Captain. Now tell me this disease you claim I have.” A sigh leaves the lady lips as she grabs the book she put next to her. The sound of pages turning had your heart berating faster then you’d care to admit.

You jump when she slams the book down and points to a page. Leaning down you begin to read what it said.

“Hanaikai disease? Sounds fake.”

“Keep reading!”

“Okay! Okay!” Not wanting to anger her, you continue to read.

Hanaikai Disease is a supposedly fictional disease that affects the victims of one-sided love. While said to be fictional, there are cases in recent history where people have claimed to suffer from it. It’s said to be extremely painful the longer it stays inside its host.

Symptoms always start the same. The victim begins to cough up flower petals of the flower that represent how the victim feels about the love they feel for the one they adore.

It’ll continue until flowers start blooming through the skin. Taking off said flowers is extremely painful and highly advised not to do. It causes the flowers to bloom more aggressively and become more painful to remove. During this stage, the victim will cough up blood along with the petals. This is a sign that the disease has finally fully affected the lungs. It’ll get more difficult to breathe.

Next, it’ll drain your energy quickly. Leaving you looking sickly and in even more pain as the disease starts to affect the organs outside the lungs. The victim will be coughing more than before, and what seems like green veins will cover the victim's body. Flowers soon start to cover the rest of the skin on the arms and legs.

Once it’s gotten to this point, the chances of survival are close to none. The disease has taken over the victim's body to the point all one can do is watch as the disease slowly corrupts the body.

The victim will slowly lose their ability to breathe before taking their last breath. What happens to the body after death is unknown. Many death records that were supposedly based on this disease have either been lost or destroyed. 

Your mouth was agape reading the horrible words inked on the page. The book tells you things you’ve experienced and what you have yet to endure. How could something so terrifying be so real? No, it couldn’t be real!

‘There is no way in hell this could be real! This has to be a fucked up dream!’ The old lady rubs her thumb along your hand.

“My dear, you need to let him go. He will be the death of you.”

“But-” Looking down at the book once more, you see what’s the only cure for the hell you’ve been contaminated with.

The only known cure for this disease is when the victim's love interest ends up loving them back or the victim loses feelings for the one they loved.

“Lose feelings? How can I do that?” The little old lady closes the book and places it next to her before getting up and moving to grab another book from the bookshelf. She then makes her way to you and trades your box for the book.

“Hey! I need those!”

“Old flowers won’t help. New flowers are the ones you need to worry about.” The lady motions you to sit up and you do so without a word. It's not like you could form words anyway after knowing what you have to do if you want to survive. 

“It’s time for you to go. A pirate never stays in one place for long.” Pushing you out the door, the old lady says nothing more before slamming the door behind you.

It all happened so fast that it felt like your head was spinning. Being told that a disease you’ve never heard before was gonna kill you? How could someone respond to that? And then get kicked out before all your questions could be answered? While a million questions still ran through your head, all you could do was stand and look around to try and process what you’ve been told. 

~~~

Making your way back to the Victoria, you couldn’t help but feel how heavy your heart had become. Having been told that the man whom you’ve dedicated everything to was going to be the death of you? That the only way to live through the raging disease was to just get over him or have him love you back? Both of those options seemed impossible. Why couldn’t the universe just let you be?

The Kid Pirates were all you had. You had no family or life to get back to. The thought of leaving was out of the question. There had to be something else.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” Kid’s voice rang through your ears, making you snap out of your thoughts. Looking up, you see him stumbling over to you. The closer he got, the more the overwhelming smell of sake became.

“Captain! I got your screwdriver! The best one they had!” Even though it was the most expensive one, it was easy to steal. But then again, you’d steal a warlord's treasure if he asked you-

A harsh cough started to leave your lungs. You could feel the ragged petals leave your throat before getting caught in the mask you wore.

“Ah, just what I was looking for.” Kid completely ignored the horrific cough, much to your delight. You were happy that he didn’t notice and that you picked out the perfect one. It was like your body was on fire when you felt him ruffle your hair.

“Such a good girl.” His laughter had your heart doing flips. The way he spoke made your legs feel weak. Even though he was drunk, you’d take his praise anytime.

“Let’s go. We don’t wanna miss our ride, do we?” Without another word, your lifted off the ground and thrown over Kid’s shoulder. If you could explode in happiness right now, you would. He’s so close. He’s holding you and carrying you in the Victoria Punk. It has to mean something! He’s never done this before! Could this be a sign that he likes you too? Maybe it could possibly stop the disease from spreading?

~~~

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and booze. Kid was so close to you the entire night! Anytime he touched you, it felt like an electric shock shooting through your skin. It was welcomed as you couldn’t help but feel your heart gush. The pain of the disease lessened when he touched you, and combined with the amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you practically forgot about it last night.

It especially slipped your mind when he kissed you.

You and Kid were walking toward your room, and when you got there, you went to say goodnight to Kid, only for him to pull you close and slam his lips to yours. Your mind filled with colors as the taste of sake filled your mouth when he slid his tongue passed your lips. Digging your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, wanting to feel all of him pressed against you. Kissing him felt like a dream come true. No amount of imagination compared to how soft Kid’s lips truly were. 

It felt like you were kissing him for an eternity before he pulled away. Saliva connected the two of you as you pant, trying to regain air. Your heart beats rapidly as you look at Kid’s lips. His beautiful red lipstick smudged. Every bone in your body yelled at you to kiss him again. Telling you that he was right in front of you.

“Kid! Where you at?” Killer’s voice echoed in the hallway, causing you both to split quickly.

“Ah, shame. Just as we were having fun. Well, see you later, princess.” He ruffled your hair again as he drunkenly stumbled towards Killer’s voice. Kid’s words echoed in your head like an addictive song. If Killer didn’t call him, what would’ve happened? 

All you could do was dream.

~~~

A knocking on your door woke you up from your drunken slumber. The intensity of the knock gave you teh impression it was your red headed captain. 

The same Captain you kissed last night. 

Your eyes shot open at the realization of him being right outside your room. It’s only been a few hours and now you had to face him. A sober him.  Jumping out of bed, you start finding any sort of pajamas that made you look as cute as possible. Once struggling to get the clothing on, you rush to the door and open it. 

“Oh hey, captain. How can I uh-help you?” Even trying to keep you cool, you can feel your face burning. The look that Kid gives you made your heart beat against your ribs. What could he be thinking about behind those amber eyes?

“Hey. About what happened last night-”

“Oh! Yeah, I-”

“Forget it.” 

“Huh?”

“Forget that ever happened. It was an accident, and we were both drunk.” Hearing his words had your blood turn cold and your heart stop. Trying to hide what you felt inside, you put on a tough face.

“Yeah, haha. I was super drunk. Surprised I'm even able to walk.” Trying to hide your cracking voice, you were thankful that the mask hid your trembling lip.

“Good. See you around.” Without another word, Kid turned his back and walked down the hallway. You closed your door, and as soon as you did, the painful sensation of needles pricking your lungs started to reemerge. Struggling to stay on your feet, you fall to your hands and knees as you try to breathe. Ripping off your mask, you can hear yourself heaving. A stabbing pain hit your back as you let out the worst cough you’ve ever done so far. It left tears in your eyes as you coughed hard enough to see more blood than petals. 

You felt like a fool. Why did you think that he liked you? It was a drunk mistake. Why couldn’t you see how stupid you were? He’d never shown any interest in you before, so why did you think he liked you after a single kiss?

Tears continued to slip down your cheeks, but the sound of harsh coughing had your mind freezing. It sounded exactly like yours. 

But it wasn’t.

You still could barely breathe, but how can a cough sound so similar? It sounds exactly like yours. Just as pained as yours. 

Getting up, your struggle trying to stay on yoru feet. Catching yourself in the mirror, you see another flower having appeared right above your heart. It wasn’t there when you put the shirt on; did it bloom when you weren’t looking? You didn’t even feel it!

Swearing under your breath, you grab another turtleneck-like shirt and keep on the long pajama pants. The more skin and flowers hidden, the better.

Leaving your room, the harsh coughing only continued and it added unease in your gut. It sounded exactly like yours when you were in yoru room, but the closer you got, you could hear the deeper tone to it. It sounded close by, so it couldn’t be far.

You follow the noise towards the infirmary. Stopping by the door, you place your ear against it. Your eyes widen hearing the voice behind the coughing. Especially what the voice said.

“Dumb flowers. What the fuck are you?” Biting your lip, you open the door quietly and peek inside. The man you never thought you’d be sharing your struggles with was right in front of you. Bloody flowers surrounded a familiar blue and white striped mask.

“Killer?” Your voice gentle as you enter the room before closing the door.

“Shit (Y/N)!” He quickly put on his mask and turned towards you, Hiding his arm behind his back.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s fine.” The silence was agonizing before Killer spoke up.

“I should go. I uh have to grab something.” Before he can walk out, you stand in front of him and place your hands on his chest.

“You need to see something. It’s important."

“Sorry, but I really have to-”

“I have it too.” Another dreadful silence fills the air as Killer steps back.

“What?” Pulling down the collar of your shirt. A SIngel carnation lying on your collarbone comes into Killer’s view.

“The day you helped stitch my face? It was caused by me pulling off a flower. The reason I’m wearing a mask? To hide the flower petals that leave my mouth when I cough.” Feeling another cough coming on, you pull down your mask and cough into your elbow. Petalserupt from your throat and making tears rim yoru eyes. Once finished, you show your arm to Killer. His speechless reaction made you worry as you threw away the petals and wiped off blood splatter on your skin.

“Do you…know what it is?” Sitting down on the infirmary bed, you pat the spot next to you. Killer seemed to think for a second before sitting down hesitantly and looking at you through his mask.

“It’s kinda hard to explain and understand, so I’ll go slow. Cause even after knowing, I’m still struggling to believe it.” Taking a deep breath, you start to tell him everything the old lady shared with you.

~~~

It was silent in the infirmary after you explained the situation to Killer. You couldn’t blame him if he didn’t believe you. Hell, you still didn’t want to believe it yourself. How could you question the old lady who told you? You’ve never met her before, and she somehow knew that you were suffering simply by looking at you.

“If you're fucking with me (Y/N), I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m obviously suffering with it too! Why would I lie to you?” Just then, Killer let out a harsh cough, and you can see a small droplet of blood fly out from one of the many holes in his mask.

“Hey! Are you okay, Killer?” You place your hand on his shoulder, and his cough only gets worse.

“Shit, I’ll go get you some water!” Running to the kitchen, you throw open the cabinets to grab a glass. You can feel your heart beat rapidly against your ribs as you desperately fill up the glass of water. Once filled, you make your way back to the infirmary. Killer’s cough no longer echoed in the hallway.

“Okay, I got your water-Heyyy, Captain.” To your dismay, you see Kid once again. This time, standing in front of Killer with his arms crossed. His scowl has your palms sweating. You quickly give Killer his water before trying to escape the uncomfortable situation you were subjected to.

“Sit your ass down.” Mouthing a silent ‘fuck’, you turn around and sit on the bed next to Killer once again.

“Care to tell me why the both of you have been acting so fucking weird these past few weeks?” Killer stayed silent, as did you. How were you supposed to explain a disease to a man who didn’t have it? Explain to the man that’s the reason for your suffering through this. Not to mention how it’s supposed to be fictional.

“Fucking spill it.”

"It's hard to explain."

“I don’t care. Tell me why you two are acting so differently, damnit!”

“We both got sick. We’re just helping one another since we got the same thing.”

“Is it contagious?”

“No.”

“Then there's no reason to be distant dipshits.” You sigh and rub your ace. This wasn’t going well at all. Kid’s tone was all you needed to know how close he was to blowing up. You move to whisper in Killer's ear, and you see Kid’s eyes narrow.

“Should I show him the flower on my collarbone? I don’t want to make you take off your mask.”

“That’s a good idea, yeah. Thank you.”

“What the fuck are you two whispering about?” Grabbing your shirt, you pull down the fabric just enough for the flower to be visible. With a nervous voice, you start to explain.

“It’s called Hanakai Disease. Its symptoms include coughing up flower petals and having fully bloomed flowers appearing on your skin as well. The flowers eat away at your body until your nothing but flowers yourself. It’s caused by one-sided lov-”

“You really expect me to believe that shit?! Flowers?! Do I look like a fucking idiot?!” Panic started setting in as you saw the anger swirling in Kid’s eyes.

“I’m telling the truth! I’d never lie to you! Killer, tell him!” Instead of backing you up, Killer stays silent.

“Killer!” Yet no words left his mask. Shocked and having your own anger flooded through your veins at Killer’s silence.

“Are you fucking serious? Help him believe us! Show him or tell him we aren’t lying!” The room was silent again, and you saw Kid’s face getting red with anger. Obviously, Killer wasn’t gonna help Kid understand, so you’d made up your mind to just walk away. You didn’t want to deal with Kid’s rage.

“Why did I even bother telling you? I knew you wouldn’t believe me. No fucking thanks to you, Killer. Fucking asshole.” Opening the infirmary door, you leave the two men while slamming teh door behind you. You can feel tears start to slip down your cheeks as Killer's silence has your heart burning. Just as you thought you weren’t alone, life came back to kick you in the ass.

The suffocating urge to cough soon became too much to bear as you leaned against a wall and started coughing. It felt as if there was a whole frog in your throat from the sheer intensity of your coughs. It made your legs feel weak as you struggled to stay standing. You even take off your mask to hopefully try to get more air to breathe.

Finally, whatever was lodged in your throat managed to fly past your lips with one last harsh cough. A silent thump was felt against your skin as you started to rub your eyes to get rid of the tears. Your blurry vision soon turns normal as you try to find the source of your painful cough. When your eye catches something on the ground, you feel time stop. Instead of what should have been a few measly petals, was replaced by a fully intact yellow carnation. There was a small blood splatter from where the bloodied flower hit the floor. With shaky hands, you grab the flower, looking at it in horror.

Turning your head around to see if anyone saw what happened, you start running as fast as you can to your room.

The book the lady gave you was a flower guide. It told you all teh meanings of the flowers you’ve coughed up. Along with a handwritten note on the stages of the disease. It was almost as if she’d been saving it for another poor soul suffering from the same fate.

~~~

“Hey (Y/N)! Breakfast is ready!” Heat’s voice breaks through your slumber as the morning sun shines against your face. When you open your eyes, you see multiple flowers lying in front of your face. Dried blood covering teh bed sheets and flowers. You must have been coughing them up while you were asleep.

A frown plasters on your face looking at the flowers. Your day already ruined before lunch.

With a deep breathe, you start to move your body out of bed. Yet as soon as you go to stand up, your legs immediately give out under you, causing you to fall to the cold floor.

“You good?”

“I’m fine! Just dropped my book!”

“Alright. Well Killer made pancakes so hurry up before Kid hogs them all!” A sour taste fills your mouth hearing the two mens names. Killer’s lack of back up and Kid’s outburst burned your already bleeding heart. Seeing their faces right now wouldn’t be the best decision for you.

Managing to crawl upon the bed, you feel your body grow cold seeing 2x the amount of flowers you had on you yesterday. That and the small green lines that veined down yoru legs. Words seemed to die in your throat as you look at your arms, worried the same fate had already happened to them. Thankfully though, they were the same as when you went to sleep. Still, you couldn’t go out with your legs in this condition.

“I’m not hungry but thank you for letting me know!” No way you could go out. Especially when you can stand on your own two feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Just not feeling the best! Do you think you could grab me some bandages? I have to change mine from last night after an accident!”

“Uh okay? Sure you didn’t fall?”

“Yep! Positive!”

“Okay I’ll believe you. Be right back!”

“Thank you Heat!” You can hear his footsteps leave and only then did you relax. Looking down at your legs, a wave of anger hit you as you stare at the beautiful flowers laying against your skin.

It wasn’t fair. How come it had to happen to you? Why was the world so cruel to taunt you with your unrequited love by having it be the thing that kills you? The flowers littering your skin gave you cruel reminders that no matter how hard you tried to ignore the painful burning of your lungs, it was useless. The worst thing about it was all you had to do is let the man you love go. But how were you suppose to do that? Even thinking about him has a cough bubbling in your throat.

It was so stupid to fall in love with the red-headed brute in the first place. He wouldn’t love you back anyways. His goal is his top priority, and who were you to take that away from him? Plus, even if you were to confess and he rejected you, you fear you’d never be able to stop loving him. A cruel fate is what your life was given to.

You roughly grab one of the flowers and crush it in your hand before ripping it away from your skin. The sickening sound of ripping skin rand across yoru room but you didn’t care. The pain you felt in your heart outweighed the pain of the flowers. Grabbing another one, you begin to rip off all the flowers adorning your legs. Missing patches of flesh appeared each time you ripped off a flower. Blood started leaking from the wounds, yet you paid no mind. Why should you? It’s not like they won’t just regrow. Nothing stitches or bandages can’t fix. 

You could feel your body getting weaker simply looking at teh green veins that adorned your skin. Knowing it had gotten to this stage scared teh shit out of you but what could you do? Kid probably hated you now. God why did this stupid disease have ot be so ridiculous?

KNOCK KNOCK

‘Must be Heat.’ With a deep breath, you get up on shaky legs, putting all your weight as you use the bed to move towards the door. You can feel blood dribble down your legs and onto the wooden floor. Grabbing the doorknob and putting all the strength you had to keep yourself propped up, you open the door while hiding your bloodied legs behind it. To your dismay, instead of Heat bringing you the bandages, it was the man you wanted to avoid.

“Hey. Heat was busy, so I brought them.” Staying silent, you look at him with a visible frown.

“I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. I was just too shocked to believe it. I didn’t want to believe it, so I tried to ignore the reality.”

“You could have at least shown a flower on your arm or something! But no! Now he thinks I’m a liar, and you know he hates those!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Kid’s calmed down now, but I didn’t fully tell him all of it after you left. He shouldn’t think your lying anymore, okay? So come eat, you look sick.”

“I’m fine now, just give me the bandages and go away-” Before you had teh chance to cover your mouth, you harshly cough up another flower. It lands by Killer's feet, causing the man's eyes to widen behind his mask. Turning back up to you, he sees your still coughing and how your struggling to stay up. Your legs stumbled out from behind the door, and he saw your blood-covered legs. Thankfully, he managed to catch you before you lost your footing.

“Jesus christ (Y/N)!” Not bothering to close your door, Killer runs to the infirmary. He can feel your blood stain his hands as small parts of his shirt soak up the blood as he carries you bridal style.

Bursting open the door, he places you on the empty bed before rushing to grab a needle and thread. If he didn’t close all the small wounds, you’d surely get an infection. Not to mention how long they’ve been open. Once he made it back to your side, he finally noticed what else was covering your legs.

“Shit. Those must be those vine things they were telling me about.” Killer quickly gets to work, not wasting another second. If anything were to happen to you, Killer wouldn’t be able to ever forgive himself.

~~~

You didn’t know when, but at some point, you must have passed out. The last thing you vividly remembered was coughing up that flower in front of Killer. Everything after that was a blur.

Opening your eyes, you notice yourself lying in the dark infirmary. Trying to even breathe felt like pins and needles were stabbing your lungs. You try to sit up, but it feels as if all the strength in your body simply vanished.

“Your awake.” Turning your head to the side, you see Killer sitting next to you. His baby blue shirt is the only visible thing.

“Killer?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for getting so mad. If I was you, it’d probably have done the same thing.”

“No. I should have had your side. Especially going against Kid.” Silence fell over the two of you. 

“What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“All day.” Your eyes widen at his confusion.

“You’ve been waiting right beside me all day to wake up?”

“...yeah.” His words made your face burn, and heart skip a beat. He didn’t leave your side at all?

“Why? Wouldn’t Kid be upset?”

“He didn’t know. Was cramped up in his workshop all day.” Your heart only beat faster the longer you listened.

“I see. Well, what’s your plan now that I’m awake?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t think that far ahead, I suppose.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you think to yourself. In all honesty, his company was greatly appreciated.

“I don’t mind if you stay here… the bed is big enough for you if I scoot closer to the wall.” It wouldn’t be the first time you had to share a bed with Killer. One time when the Victoria Punk docked on an island for repairs, the crew slept in a hotel. Everyone was arguing about roommates, so Killer managed to make numbers and put them in a stolen hat, telling people to take a number. You and Killer got the same number, so you two were bunkmates until the Victoria was repaired. Then again, that was when he wore his black and white polka-dotted shirt. It’s been so long since then.

“I could crush you. Plus, your sick.”

“A sickness you have. So lay down on the bed…I don’t wanna be alone.” Killer was thankful you couldn’t see his face, if you could, you would’ve seen how his cheeks turned red. While he’s slept in the same bed as you before, this was obviously very different. But when would he get this chance to be so close to you again?

“Okay.” Taking his boots off, Killer slides under the covers. He can feel the flowers that adorned his own skin being moved around as he starts to get comfortable.

“Thank you for fixing me up, Killer. It means a lot.” Even though you try to give him as much space as possible, Killer still could practically feel your body against his.

“Goodnight, Killer.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).” Closing both of your eyes, neither of you notices the two flowers that fell off Killer's arms or how the burning pain in your lungs suddenly vanished. Leaving you able to enjoy Killer’s scent being right next to you.

~~~

Waking up, you see Killer gone from your side. A plate of (favorite breakfast) replaced him on the chair. A small giggle escapes your lips, seeing your favorite breakfast. Still the perfect temp.

Taking a few breaths, you get ready to try and sit up. If today was anything like yesterday, then certainly be a task made for the gods. Yet as soon as you lift yourself up, your shocked to feel yourself sit up with ease. Just yesterday, you could barely breathe and stay on your feet. What did Killer do that gave you the strength to sit up and the ability to breathe properly?

Whatever it was, you’ll have to thank him again later.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hello? Come in?” You quickly cover yoru body in case the person behind the door wasn’t Killer. To your shock, a familar patch of bright red hair comes into view.

“Captain?” All you heard was a grumble before he closed the door behind him. He crossed his arms and looked away from yoru face, you could see something in his hand.

“Killer told me he forgot to give you a utensil to eat, so here.” Handing you a (...), you gently grab it, your fingertips brushing against his own. His skin rough from working in his shop.

“Thanks, Captain. That’s very nice of you.” While he still refused to look at you, you gave him a smile.

“Killer explained your situation yesterday, so forget about what happened.” Kid’s way of saying sorry was odd, but you’ll take it.

“Ah, I see.” A silence filled the infirmary before Kid spoke.

“Who is it?”

“What?”

“Who’s the person you love?” His eyes stared into yours, and you could feel your face burn at his straightforward question. How were you supposed to tell him that he’s the only one always on your mind? At least, you think he is.

“Oh! W-Well, does that really matter? I can get over it! There's no need to worry about me, Captain! You just focus on being King of the Pirates!” Rambling on, you didn’t notice the way Kid’s body tensed, and his face burned red when you spoke your last words.

“What I would love is for you to achieve your dream, alright? I’m nobody to worry about. Focus on your own happiness.” Hearing your own words made you bite the inside of your cheek. While you didn’t outright say it, you felt like you said it to him. There was something holding you back from saying those words.

No. Not something. Someone.

“I see. I gotta go. There’s a project I need to finish.” With that, Kid left in a hurry. Leaving you no time to respond.

“Bye?” With you being left alone once more, you finally grab your breakfast and begin to dig into it. A smile fell across your lupus as a giddiness filled your body, thinking of the kindness Killer showed you.

~~~

It was a calm day on the Victoria Punk. The sun shone brightly down on the crew as they all did their own things. You were currently lying on a blanket on the deck, soaking up the sun. If you were to tell yourself two weeks ago that you were wearing a short-sleeved shirt, you’d never believe it. Yet here you were.

Five days ago, all the flowers that once resided on your arms fell off. You saw one fall off before your eyes even. When you woke up, instead of huge bloodied flowers in front of you, only small petals took their place. While there were still flowers on your legs, the green ‘vines’ were gone and your strength was back in full. Whatever Killer did that day two weeks ago you’ll never be able to thank him enough.

Now here you are, sitting in the sun and breathing in teh fresh salty air. You don’t know what’s causing the symptoms to go away, but you didn’t dare question it. Why question a good thing?

“Enjoying the sun?” Looking to your side, you see Killer standing above you.

“Very much. What ya doing?”

“Just finished running errands for Kid and doing first mate duties.” Your heart seemed to speed up as you continue talking to the mask man.

“So your free now?”

“I should be.”

“Well, do you wanna hang out with me and enjoy the sun?” Hiding your hands behind your head, you crossed your fingers that he’d say yes.

“I smell like sweat from running around so.”

“I can wash the blanket. When’s the next time you’d get to relax? Plus, I don’t invite just anyone to lay next to me and enjoy the sun.” You see Killer looking down as if trying to think.

“Please? Pretty please?” A sigh leaves the man before sitting down and lying down next to you. About a foot of space between the two of you. Killer’s scent invaded your senses, making a sigh of contentment leave your lips.

“Liar. You don’t smell like sweat. What were you trying to ditch me?” You gently elbow the huge man with a soft laugh.

"Maybe." An offended gasp leaves you, making Killer laugh.

“I’m kidding. Just didn’t want to take any chances.” Turning to your side, you look at Killer. You couldn’t help but study the small scars along his arms. Or how his hair looked so soft, lying along the blanket. The sight made your face burn and your heart beat in your ears.

“Your staring.” Despite your urge to look away in embarrassment, you try to play it cool.

“Am I not allowed to look at a piece of art?” It was something you’d never say to anyone. Something you haven’t said to anyone.

Killer’s eyes widened behind his mask as he felt his heart quicken. Hearing such words coming from you made his cheeks burn and his heart skip a beat. He looked in your eyes to see if you were joking, but all he could see was sincerity.

“Stop it. You're just saying that.” Hearing him deny your words, you decide to up your game. After everything Killer’s done for you, he deserves to be praised.

“Would you prefer ‘pretty boy’ instead?” Killer snapped his head towards you before gently smacking your arm.

“Oh my god (Y/N), shut up.” A smirk rose on your lips.

“Pretty boy! Pretty boy! Killer’s a pretty boy!” Sitting up, Killer grabbed you and covered your mouth.

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up, I’m going to throw you overboard!”

“Pretty boy!” You yell while giggling. While your words were muffled, you knew Killer could still hear them.

“That’s it.” Hetting up, Killer wraps his arms around you and starts walking towards the railing.

“Killer, I swear to god!” Even though you wiggle desperately, it did nothing to losen his grip. The closer you got to the railing, the more you panicked.

“Tell me how cold the water is.” Even though he wasn’t laughing, you could hear the telltale sign of muffled down laughter that he desperately tried to keep in.

“No!”

“What’s going on here?” Both of you turn your heads and see Kid standing and watching with his arms crossed once again. Killer dropped you in shock, leaving you to make a thud against the floor. Looking up at Kid, you feel embarrassment run through you the way he refused to look at you. Why he refused to look at you had you questioning if he had a grudge over you that you weren’t aware of. Whatever it was, it left you feeling small. Making you scoot closer to Killer’s leg.

~~~

You couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Killer lying next to you. All you could think about was him. How he smelled, how his skin felt against yours. The way even the smallest words left his lips had your heart beating faster than you ever thought possible.

Remembering the way he took care of you in your worst moments made you smile. No one’s ever done that before. The memory of him lying next to you on the infirmary bed made your feet kick under the covers. You’ve never slept so good then lying next to him.

There had to be something that you could do to repay him. But what? Scanning your head for anything, you remember how he loved pasta. That was something, but you wanted to give him something that could last longer than 10 minutes. Throwing your hand to the side to grab your glass of water, your shocked when you feel your hand touching a velvet-type surface. Turning your head, you see the flower guide the old lady gave you.

Just then an idea came to you, making you sit up and turn on the lantern light on your nightstand. Opening the book, you begin to search for the perfect flower.

~~~

You wouldn’t leave his mind no matter how hard he tried to focus. Every time he tried to sharpen his blades, all he could see was you. Even the sharp screaming of his blade didn’t pierce the sound of your voice in his head. Your laughter and how sweet your voice sounded when you complimented him felt like a melody he couldn’t ignore.

He also couldn’t ignore how the flowers adorning his skin had now fallen off. All that was left was a small cough every now and then, and even now, the cough was no longer painful. It felt like he could breathe better now. When he thought about it, it only survived to confuse him. The way he felt about you only grew with each passing moment he spent next to you.

Shouldn’t it be getting worse?

His heart only beat faster when he saw you, and his dreams of you only continued every time he closed his eyes. Dreams of you laying next to him at night with his arms wrapped around you. Where you’d kiss his helmet while telling him how much you adored him. Yet those were just dreams. All they’d ever be.

“Killer?” A small tap on his shoulder made him turn around. Your voice quiet enough to barely be heard. When he fully turned around to look at you, he was surprised by a big bouquet of flowers in your hand.

“These are for you.” You shoved the flowers to his chest before looking away from him. Looking down at the flowers, it felt as if time stopped seeing 12 blue roses looking back at him. His voice caught in his throat as he couldn’t stop the rapid beating of his heart.

“I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to yet you did, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful. And thanks to you…I survived a disease that should have killed me. All the flowers on my body have fallen off, and I haven’t coughed in so long. Last night I wanted to give you a gift, and it’s then that I realized why I’m better.” A shaky breath left your lips as Killer stood before you shocked.

“It’s you. The reason I can breathe and live is you. I…I love you Killer.” Before you could spill out more of your heart, Killer pulled you to his chest. His arms wrapping around you tightly and laid his head on your own. You can hear his heart beat echo in yoru ears.

“I love you too.” An overwhelming burst of happiness filled your being hearing those words. Looking up at him, you grab his mask and place kisses everywhere you could reach. Just then, Killer stopped you.

“Huh?” You see him carefully push up his mask to where only his lips are visible. Before you could say a word, Killer placed his lips against your own. They were softer than anything you’ve ever felt.

And finally, after months of suffering, you can finally breathe in Killer's arms, and he can breathe in yours.

~~~

Sitting in his workshop, a burning pain in Kid’s lungs caused him to pause his project and grip his chest. He’s never felt such a strong cough coming on before in his life. When it finally felt okay to breathe again, Kid’s gaze caught something lying next to his arm. Carefully grabbing it with his metal hand, he brings it closer to his face.

In his hand, the petal of a flower stared right back at him.

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #eustass captain kid x reader

[ipseitydelrey]

if u ever get the motivation u should write an elle greenaway nsfw alphabet 👀👀👀

omg yesss, what better character to start out with than elle 🫶

nsfw alphabet ☆ elle greenaway

ship elle greenaway x afab!reader

warnings smutty smut smut, oral (giving and receiving), sex toys (dildos, strap-ons, vibrators), biting, mommy kink, masturbation, rough sex, slight exhibitionism, edging, quickies

a/n fun fact: in my textbook for my ethics in psych course, there are these small fictional case studies that you have to read and i kid you not, one of the names for an unethical therapist was "dr. romeo quickie." anyways, enjoy~

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

sometimes when she's feeling a little energetic after sex, she cleans you up with a warm washcloth. but most of the time, you just fall asleep in each other's arms while she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

she loves her mouth. she quickly noticed that whenever she talks, your eyes tend to fall to her lips and usually she would just say "my eyes are up here, babe." she also loves how her mouth anywhere on your skin just makes you want to do anything for her.

as for you, elle loves your thighs. whenever you two are sitting beside each other, maybe at a restaurant or on the couch watching tv, she tends to gently squeeze your thigh and rub her thumb on your skin. when she goes down on you, she loves to kiss and bite the inside of your thighs.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

she wants to make you cum before she does so herself. her favourite place to cum on is your face, especially when she sits on it and has you eat her out.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

she knows how to lap dance...and she's damn good at it.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

oh no doubt about it. with both men and women too! in fact, even if you're also quite experienced, she definitely has a thing or two about sex to teach you.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

she loves sitting on your face. although of course, she also likes to seat you on her thigh and have you pleasure yourself by grinding against her.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

she's definitely more serious; her focus is all on you and how to make you feel good. rarely she would make jokes, but during aftercare, she's definitely cracking small sarcastic jokes.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

she does shave, but she has a small patch of hair that she keeps well-trimmed.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

no rose petals, candles, etcetera, but she is tender and loving, even when she's rough. she's huge on consent, so she always makes sure you're okay with something and praises you when you say yes/no.

J= jack off (masturbation headcanon)

when she's away from you (or vice versa), she touches herself once or twice before she (or you) comes back. although sometimes she would send you videos of her masturbating. of course, if you send her nudes, she can't help it.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

she's more of a top, but would be willing to bottom. she also loves marking you with hickies, bites, and more. she likes putting them in places only she can see and kissing them, sometimes even biting the marks to make you writhe.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

cars. she loves how cramped they can be because it makes you two closer together. it can also get quite heated (literally) and sweaty, and she loves how you can potentially be caught.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

whenever you wear her clothes, especially dresses, she's turned on. she loves seeing you in her clothes (and she loves it even more when she takes them off of you). oh, and when you stand up to a bigot? she praises you for your confidence and absolutely rewards you for how strong you are.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

elle would never hit or hurt you at all. she also would never do edgeplay (i.e. guns and knives). as someone who regularly deals with unsubs, she doesn't want to put you in any danger that could remind her of anything she herself has been through.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

let's be real: elle greenaway is a pussy eating god. she eats you out like a woman starved, and damn it feels so good. and yes, while she does love receiving, she loves giving you as much pleasure as possible.

P= pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

she loves being rough and fast because it makes you loud, but when she slows down, you can bet that it's to edge and make you beg for more.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

although she doesn't particularly favour it, quickies are quite common on account of how much she's away with the b.a.u.. she does make the most out of it though, because she does like going fast, but she still prefers to take her time and make you cum again and again.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

knowing elle, she's all about risks. sometimes on days where you're visiting the b.a.u., she likes to tease you by small innuendoes and putting her pen near her mouth. when it's apparent you're hot and bothered, she takes you to the bathroom and eats your pussy out while you struggle to keep your moans to yourself.

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

oh tons and tons of naughty texts are exchanged (phone calls too, which can sometimes escalate to phone sex). pics are definitely sent. when you started sending each other provocative pics, it began with tasteful pictures (clothed or if not clothed, covered with hands; cleavage, thighs, ass, etc.), but over time they escalated to full on nudes.

T= toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

strap-ons are elle's go to for pleasuring you (aside from using her tongue). she has a couple different kinds of dildos that she loves to use on you. she also uses vibrators, both on herself and you.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

elle loves to tease and edge you. it's so attractive to her when you beg her to let you cum or touch you. of course, she doesn't want to make it torturous for you, so she has you grind against her mouth/hands/strap-on until you're close...at which point she gives you what you want and makes you orgasm.

V= volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

she moans more than she whimpers. and while she isn't particularly loud, she makes it apparent that she's having a good time by having the sweetest wanton moans.

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

as someone who loves control, elle would love it if you decide to be the one in control for a night. she wants you to feel powerful and dominating in the bedroom (she mostly just wants you to ride her face).

X= x-ray (what's going on behind those panties)

again, small patch of hair she keeps neat and trimmed. other than that, her pussy is pretty and you love eating her out.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

with you, sort of medium to slightly high, but when she's away, high as can be. she misses you dearly when she's without you, so when she comes back, be prepared to not walk tomorrow. regularly she can go two to four rounds and she can definitely last a good while.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

she always makes sure you're comfortable and asleep before going to sleep herself. she cares for your wellbeing and wants you to know how much she appreciates and cares for you so after you have sex, you tend to fall asleep to the sound of her softly whispering "good girl, you're so amazing, you did wonderful..."

#★ mdni #★ sei’s headcanons #★ requests for sei #★ sei’s lexicons #★ elle greenaway #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds headcanons #elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #lola glaudini #fanfic #fanfiction

[flutteringphalanges]

Aydith

Adam Warlock x Star Lord’s Sister/Reader

Summary: Adam and reader have a baby.

//I started working on one where the reader actually gave birth but put that on hold because I wasn’t sure if I should finish it. I may make this a series because I kinda want to explore dad!Adam more and uncle!Peter and the rest of a the Guardians as aunts and uncles. If people are interested. Anyway hope you guys enjoy! (next time I think I will do present POV and not past, but whatever lol!) EDIT: This is now a series. Here is a LINK to the master-post with links to all of the one shots.

                                             Aydith

You and your older brother, Peter, had practically grown up with Yondu and the Ravengers. Seen things, some being terrible at that. Found a new family with the Guardians. Experienced battles. War. The destruction of whole societies. Planets. But any of those old fears were nothing compared to what you were experiencing now. The heavy, nervous thumps in your heart as you stared down at the tiny being in your arms. Thumps that were equally as terrifying as this strange new feeling of overwhelming, unbridled love. 

Her skin was a brilliant shade of gold--something she had inherited from her father. What little hair she had was more so copper, but that could easily change with time. Even through her golden skin, the rosiness of her cheeks blushed like petals. And her eyes…for the past nine months you had been anticipating they would be his. But the very first time she opened them, they were the most intense shade of_____. Just like yours. She was beautiful. Far, far beyond that. She was yours. Both of yours.

“She’s so small.” Adam’s voice cut through the silence. “Is that…is she okay?”

You glanced over at him from where he sat on the edge of your bed. Everything had been a blur up until this moment. The birth had not been an easy one. A lot had happened. It was certainly unexpected. And the chance that something horrible could have come from it all was a fate no one wanted to think about. But you were safe, and more importantly she was, so in the end that was all that mattered.

“Yeah.” You assured him, watching intently as he gingerly touched one of her clenched fists. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“More than anything in the entire realm of galaxies.” Adam agreed with a small smile, clearly mesmerized. “And she’s ours.”

“Yeah.” You breathed, looking at her. “She is.” Silence fell between you for a brief moment before a thought suddenly came to your mind. “Do you want to hold her?”

Adam blinked, looking at you in almost comical surprise. “I can hold her?”

It takes everything within you to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter. Being exhausted and sore helped with that. “Of course, she is your kid after all.”

“What if I…” He hesitated, glancing from you to the baby. “What if something…”

“You won’t hurt her.” You promised, wincing a little as you lean forward to place her in his arms. “They aren’t as delicate as they look. Or, at least someone told me that…”

Adam took her gently, going rigid when she let a little noise. Slowly, you watch as his posture relaxes. The way he gazed at her, watching with such intent and adoration. You never thought you could love him more until now. You couldn’t help but question what you had done to deserve them both.

“I…I thought I was going to lose you, Y/N.” Adam said quietly, finally meeting your stare once more. “Back on the ship. I really thought…” And the way his eyes have begun to water causes a swell of emotion to find you. “All of us really, and if something had…your brother would’ve never forgiven me.”

“Hey, I’m okay.” You said softly. “Both of us are.” You paused, before adding. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more to get rid of me. We Quills are pretty resilient.”

Adam chuckled softly, stroking the top of the infant’s hand. “As I have witnessed.”

“You know, she kinda needs a name.” You reached over, lightly brushing your fingertips against the top of her head. “Any suggestions?”

He hummed thoughtfully, adjusting your daughter in his arms. “My mother’s name was Ayesha.” Adam began to talk faster as if he thought you’d interject. You wouldn’t. “I know she committed horrible acts and was not the greatest of all beings, but…she was wonderful to me and I loved her. I…can understand if you are against it, however.”

“It’s a pretty name.” You told him, giving him a smile. “My mother’s name was Meredith. I didn’t get to know her, she died when I was really young. But Peter talks about her, a lot more than he used to.”

“Meredith…” He mused, studying the baby’s face. “That is also a nice name.”

You took a moment to consider the two. One could easily be the first and the second a middle. The problem would be, in that case, which one you would call her. Suddenly an idea comes to mind, one that you hope didn’t sound too ridiculous.

“What about Aydith?”

Adam looked at you with a brow raised. “Aydith?”

“A combination of the two.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders. “We could honor them both…It doesn’t sound too funny does it?”

You watched as he glanced down at the baby, remaining silent for a moment. “Aydith…” He said slowly, as if testing out the name. “I like it. Aydith is a good name.”

You smiled softly, peering down into her little face as Adam leaned over.

“Hello, Aydith.” You whispered gently. “Welcome to the universe.”

#Adam Warlock #Adam Warlock x Reader #Reader x Adam Warlock #gotg vol 3 #gotg vol 3 fanfiction #Aydith Warlock

[sapphire-writes]

Winter Rose

pairing: Aemond x Stark!Reader

summary: Raised among wolves, and raised among dragons; throughout time Targaryens and Starks seem to find their way to each other.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2.3k

note: this is mostly fluff! enjoy my loves 💙

You had been a small child when your father died; when your elder brother Cregan was named Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Though he was just a boy of three and ten at the time. You remembered the funeral of your father, the way Cregan held your small hand in his own.

“You need to be brave, sister,” Cregan had whispered in your ear. 

Your eyes were wide as saucers, gazing upon the still body of your father. You expected his chest to rise and fall, as though he were simply in a deep sleep. He remained motionless. You had only seen one other corpse in your life, that of your mother.

The image of her flashes in your mind. Beautiful, wild, and gone. Petals in the wind. Your father would lay beside her for eternity in the crypts of Winterfell. The thought comforted you, your parents in the earth below you, and your brother. Simply sleeping beneath the mighty fortress of Winterfell.

Cregan squeezes your hand. 

Your uncle, Bennard Stark, was to rule as regent until Cregan came of age. A feat that does not bode well when Cregan reaches adulthood. But Bennard succeeds nonetheless. 

You grow alongside your brother, both of you fierce, both of you spitting images of the First Men. Both are haunted by the ghosts of wolves before you. You and Cregan are one and the same until you come into your maidenhood.

That is when things seem to change between you, suddenly you are thrust into the role of a soon-to-be mother, though still unwed. Lords vie for your hand, present themselves to your brother for the chance to bed, and breed you like a prize mare. You are having none of that. 

“Lord Umber is a fine choice!” Cregan yells, running after you as you flee from the great hall.

“You heathen!” you snap at your brother.

You stop, causing Cregan to nearly run into you, glaring at your brother. 

“You’d ship me off to Last Hearth, is that it?” you accuse, “who’d do your booking then hmm?”

Cregan flushes with embarrassment. 

“I’d make do without you,” he says.

“You’re shit at bookkeeping,” you accuse. 

“You’re a lady, it’s your duty-”

“My duty!” you scoff, “How very convenient to you!”

Cregan frowns, visibly frustrated by your angry disposition.

“You like Lord Umber.”

You look at him incredulously. 

“He is my friend, Cregan, it does not mean I wish to bed him.”

“Sister, you must listen!”

But you are off already, across the yard, angry tears wet on your face. They do not last long as you hastily wipe them, crystalized in the cold air they fly like diamonds to the gravel below. 

The news comes to Winterfell when House Stark is invited to the capital to represent the North at King Viserys nameday. Evidently, all the great houses are to feast in the capital, with tourneys and celebrations to last for several days. 

“Allow me to represent our house, and when I return I shall not fuss about marrying Lord Umber,” you tell him, bile rising in your throat as you panic at the thought.

Cregan senses your hesitation. Brothers are like that, sensing your lies. 

“You shall?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. 

“I shall.”

The journey to King’s Landing is long and tiresome, taking the better part of a month. Layers of clothing are shed the closer you get to the capital, as the air around you warms, snow melts and flowers bloom. It is as though you are blooming as well, pushing through the soil and towards the sun.

You are presented at court, as unwed ladies often are, to the king and the royal family. Though King Viserys is not in attendance, represented by the Hand instead. 

The first of the festivities you attend is a tourney. 

“You do not wish to participate, my prince?” you ask, out of courtesy.

“I do not care for tourneys, my lady,” the one-eyed prince tells you, “I believe them to be a foolish waste of time.”

You smile slightly at his honesty.

“They are said to prepare men for the battlefield,” you tell him, “though I do not know whose enemy would wait for his opponent to pick up his sword.”

Aemond glances at you as you take a sip from your cup. He glances at the tourney field, understanding your jest as he observes two knights waiting to fight. A flicker of a smile appears on his chiseled face.

“Most knights simply wish for the attention of those of court,” Aemonn tells you, “Fame and glory; to be a page in a song.”

“To have the favor of a pretty girl,” you agree.

Aemond looks at you once more. A pretty girl. You meet his eye, smiling. Aemond looks away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Have any of these knights won your favor, my lady?” Aemond asks.

You shake your head.

“No, I am afraid not,” you tell him, “I prefer a real warrior to a pretender.”

Aemond watches as you excuse yourself and walk away, a curious expression on his face. 

The feast later that evening is boisterous and full of merriment and delight. It makes you miss home, an ache appears in your chest that you cannot shake. No matter how many lords you dance with, how many ladies you chat with. Though you wished for an escape, you so miss the walls of Winterfell. Cregan’s hand in yours. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps the North is where you belong. Winterfell, Last Hearth. Did it matter which castle, truly?

“My lady,” the voice of Prince Aemond pulls you gently from your thoughts.

He is kind, you can tell. Though his exterior is cold, reptilian almost. Like the snakes that slither in the greenhouses of Winterfell, searching for warmth and life in the frozen ground. Simply trying to survive. Aemond bows to you, offering his hand, violet eye scanning your face. 

You want to ask him about it. But you bite his tongue. You know all too well how people enjoy poking the bruises of others, teasing out the memories of pain a person holds inside them simply for their own selfish curiosity. You shall not be like them.

You take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. You cling to the young prince for the rest of the evening, finding calm in his cool presence. It is nice, standing beside him feeling as though there is no silence you need to fill. Feeling as though he simply enjoys that you are there. 

When you return to your chambers, a blue winter rose rests its petals on your pillow. You pick up the flower, inspecting it carefully between your fingers, the cerulean petals catching the moonlight. A reminder of home.

The remainder of your visit to the capital is spent on Prince Aemond’s arm. In the library, on walks through the gardens. He even entertains your passion for hawking, joining you as you travel into the Kingswood. It is nice to have a friend among so many dragons. Someone to talk to, someone who enjoys your company. 

As the days pass, you have collected a bouquet of winter roses; they sit beside your bed in a glass vase, the first flower only just beginning to lose its petals. They scatter across your chambers like freshly fallen snow. 

A raven arrives, confirming your brother’s visit to the capital. Cregan is often impatient and comes to the conclusion that he must join his sweet sister in the capital, bringing Lord Umber with him. A determined pup, your elder brother can be. 

Aemond senses a shift within you as you wait in anticipation, though he cannot quite figure out what the cause is. When your brother arrives, you avoid his presentation at court entirely. Though Cregan is relentless, and spots you as you attempt to escape to the gardens. In your haste, you nearly run into Aemond. You clasp his arm.

“Quickly,” you say nervously, shifting on your feet, “I must go, quickly.”

“It is your brother,” Aemond says, looking over your shoulder, “why do you wish to run from him? Have you not missed him this time apart?”

Aemond knows you have been missing him, missing home. It is why he took such care with the flowers left in your chambers. He had enlisted Helaena for help; winter roses are fickle plants that require delicate care outside of the North. 

“Of course I have,” you tell him, trying but failing to hide behind his tall frame.

Aemond smiles slightly as you grab his arm. Cregan has spotted you, a determined grin on his face. Lord Umber has joined him on his journey to King’s Landing. He has brought the wedding to you. There’s nowhere to run anymore.

“Then why do you hide little wolf?” Aemond asks, chuckling.

“He wishes to marry me off,” you tell the prince, “ship me off to Last Hearth.”

Aemond’s face falls slightly, he glances over his shoulder as your brother comes closer with each passing second. Aemond turns back to you, eye scanning the distressed expression on your face. 

You bring your gaze back to the prince, an idea coming to you. 

“My prince,” you say suddenly, “do you trust me?”

Aemond frowns, not fully understanding what you are asking.

“Of course my lady-”

“Then kiss me.”

Aemond’s jaw slacks as he looks into your eyes. 

“Quickly, please,” you beg, “Aemond.”

His eye flickers from your lips to your eyes.

“Trust me,” you say softly.

The one-eyed dragon prince needs no more convincing. He bows his head to your height, and you stand on the tips of your toes, hand caressing the back of his neck bringing his lips to yours. Aemond is gentle with the kiss, as though he has never kissed someone before. He nearly pulls away after the first peck, but you secure your hand on his neck, opening your mouth against his, deepening the kiss.

Something comes alive in Aemond as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Fire curls in his belly, desire lodges at the base of his spine, and his cock strains against his trousers as your nails scrape his scalp. 

You pull away when the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you from the prince’s trance. Lips reddened by the hasty kisses, Aemond’s violet eye is wide as it meets yours.

“Sister,” Cregan says awkwardly, “It is good-”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark,” Aemond interrupts, nodding to the young wolf.

“Your grace,” Cregan says, bowing slightly.

“Delightful to be surrounded by kin,” Aemond tells him.

“Kin? I do not understand,” Cregan tells him.

“My betrothed has missed her brother for too long now,” Aemond clarifies, much to Cregan’s and your surprise. 

“Betrothed?” Cregan asks, looking between you two. 

“Yes,” you tell him, sliding next to Aemond, pressing your body against him, “Prince Aemond has asked for my hand. And I have accepted.”

Cregan’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly.

“Without informing me?” he asks.

“We wished to surprise you,” Aemond says softly, “your sister was so excited by your arrival, she wanted to tell you in person.”

You nod eagerly as Aemond speaks, and Cregan raises an eyebrow at you in question. You smile widely, showing too many teeth. A she-wolf, daring him to question you aloud. 

“Tis true, brother,” you tell him, “Who am I to deny a dragon prince?”

“I suppose if you did not want to, you would not,” Cregan says, sighing, “A stubborn woman, my sister is.”

“One of the many reasons she is so charming,” Aemond agrees, his words causing your heart to flutter inside your chest.

Warmth pools in your belly as the prince smiles down at you. Cregan raises an eyebrow, nodding in approval. 

“I dare ask, what else has entrapped your attention, my prince?” Cregan asks, “It is my understanding the Queen wished for you to take a wife for some time now, to no avail.”

Aemond nods.

“Your sister is a rare find, much like a winter rose south of the Wall,” Aemond begins. 

Your heart leaps in your throat. Though you had expected it, now it is confirmed. It was he who left you the flowers. He who took such care with them. 

“However, did you do it?” you ask, eyes wide. 

Aemond smiles at you knowingly. 

“Precious flowers take time to bloom, they require special care,” he tells you, “but they are well worth it.”

You flush at his words, believing he means more than just the flowers. 

“A marriage must be treated with such care as well,” you agree, lacing your fingers through his. 

Aemond’s hand is rough from training with the sword, but your hand fits perfectly in his. The warmth of his palm settles the flurry of nerves in your stomach. 

“Are you prepared to give this union such care?” Cregan asks, his voice hardening, “This is my sister you are marrying, and she deserves nothing but the best.”

Aemond smiles, looking down at your intertwined hands. His thumb rubs against the back of your palm. 

“I would gift her the world if I could,” he admits, “I promise you, I shall spend the rest of my days devoted to making her happy.”

Your eyes well with tears and your heart swells with pride at his words. You tug him closer to you, taking his other hand in yours.

“You must excuse us brother,” you tell Cregan, “though I have missed you, I require a moment with my betrothed.”

You lead Aemond away from Cregan, away from the curious eyes of court, until you are in a secluded area of the castle.

“Where are we going?” Aemond asks, a smile playing on his lips.

You tug him closer once more until you are pressed up against him.

“I wish to kiss my betrothed unwatched,” you giggle, bringing his mouth to yours once more. 

This time, you do not stop.

______________________________________________________________

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#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x sister!reader #aemond x targaryen! reader #aemond fic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #targaryen x stark #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond stannies

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Roars And Rose Petals

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Graphic description of violence

Summary: After a mission involving sinking dragon hunter ships and freeing any trapped dragons on board goes wrong and one of the dragon riders is left injured, Hiccup tries to make sure (Y/N) gets the proper rest she deserves with much resistance on her part of course.

A/N: For the sake of this story your dragon is going to be female. The name or species is up to you though. I'm not sure how I feel about this one-shot overall. When I first started working on it I think I started it out strong but the further along it went the more I feel as if I lost sight of the one-shot. Hope you enjoy tho :)

(Y/N): Your name

(H/C): Hair colour

(D/N): Dragon's name

(D/S): Dragon species

*Gif does not belong to me

(Y/N)'s hands tightened around the edge of (D/N)'s saddle. She lowered her chest to the point she was almost laying flat on (D/N)'s back as they began to dive through the rows of boats sitting on the water's edge. Jutting an arm out in front of her and (D/N)'s head, (Y/N) called out, "Come on girl, let's sink them before they sink us."

A gargled response was announced from below (Y/N) before a beam of flames was shot towards one of the boats. A chorus of strangled-out cries filled the air as (D/N)'s head turned and the flames they were emitting fell to another ship, tearing through the deck and leaving smouldering wood. A gentle pat hit the side of (D/N)'s neck, silent encouragement once the flames ceased.

"(Y/N), more help is needed on the other side of the armada," Astrid called out from Stormflys back, passing by (Y/N) and (D/N) on her own way over to meet Snotlout and Fishlegs. By the sound of it--or lack of it--Hiccup and the twins seemed to be doing just fine.

"On it!" (Y/N) called after the blonde, turning (D/N)'s so they could follow after the Deadlynadder. "Come on (D/N)," (Y/N) muttered, "Just a few more ships and then we can go home and relax for the rest of the week. I promise I won't let Hiccup rope us into any more missions or training exercises."

A pleased rumble left (D/N)'s chest at the same time as a bemused yell left Hiccup. "Hey!" He had called, grinning over at (Y/N) before diving out of the way of some dragon root-laced arrows. (Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head as she focused back on the task at hand, eyes locking on where Astrid and Stormfly had disappeared to.

Without warning, a metallic chain was shot their way. "Quickly (D/N), up. Up!" (Y/N) screeched at the sight of the hooked weapon.

(D/N) let out a bellowing screech as she tried to shoot up, wings snapping out. She wasn't quick enough however as the chain wrapped around (D/N)'s right wing, pulling the (D/S) wing taut with the hook digging into the underside of her wing. A cry escaped from (D/N)'s throat, shaking (Y/N) as their bodies jolted with the pull of the chain.

"Steady (D/N)," (Y/N) attempted to say, hands tightening once more on (D/N)'s saddle as her (H/C) whipped around her head, the wind picking up and throwing her hair around. (D/N) seemed immune to (Y/N)'s words as her left-wing rapidly shot up and down.

Growing more erratic with every passing second, (D/N) started to shake rapidly, trying to throw the chain off her. In her attempt to loosen the chain from her right wing, (D/N) also began to jostle (Y/N) from her back.

"(D/N), no!" (Y/N) shouted as she began to fall, slipping from the leather saddle as (D/N) began to crash down hard, being pulled in by the dragon hunter ship. "Someone? Anyone?" (Y/N) tried to call out as gusts of wind slapped against her face. When it became apparent that no one was coming, (Y/N)'s eyes squeezed shut, arms coming forward to cradle her head as she got ready for impact.

Before (Y/N) could hit the crashing sea's surface, a chain identical to the one that had trapped (D/N) wrapped around her waist, snagging one of her arms by her side because of the angle at which she was falling. The hook of the chain tore through (Y/N)'s shirt and dug itself into her side, making her wince as she got whipped through the air and came crashing into the side of the boat.

The tips of her boots scraped against the water's edge as she dangled against the side of the boat momentarily before being pulled up, the rattling of chains filling (Y/N)'s ears as she struggled to free her arms. When she reached the halfway point, she had managed to untangle her arm from her body and the dragon-proof chains. With a soft grunt, (Y/N) brought both hands to the hooked metal that was still lodged into her side. Taking a steadying breath, (Y/N) tried to relax before she abruptly pulled at the hook, ripping it from her skin. A startled cry tore through (Y/N)'s chest but she did her best to muffle the noise.

Keeping the remainder of the chain wrapped around herself, (Y/N) allows herself to be pulled up and over the side of the ship. Only then did she unravel the chain from her waist and fling the hooked edge at the dragon rider that shot and pulled her from the air. The hook hit the hunter with a strangled cry from him before he fell to the ground, weighed down by the heavy metal.

(Y/N) didn't stay put for long after that as she jumped forward onto the boat's deck. Picking up a stray bow from the fallen dragon hunter, she tore an arrow from the quiver still latched to the hip of the man. Aiming the bow and arrow, she didn't hesitate before releasing the arrow on one of the dragon hunters, tearing them from their focus as the arrow buried itself in their shoulder.

The wounded hunter's cry caught the attention of more hunters, pulling them away from the dragons in the sky and to the fallen rider on their ship. (Y/N) tried not to look put off by the many eyes on her. Instead, she readied herself for the onslaught of weapons that were bound to come her way. "Someone grab her!"

Getting another arrow from the hunter's toppled-over body, she aimed it at the nearest dragon hunter, getting ready to shoot it at the first sign of danger. "That's right, come and get me!"

None of the dragon hunters took a step forward and for a second, (Y/N) thought she had successfully warded them off. But when the padded thumps came from behind her and a soft growl began to emit, (Y/N) realised it was a certain dark-scaled dragon that had warned the hunters off. "No one is going to be getting anyone unless it involves getting you out of here."

A smile danced across (Y/N)'s face as Toothless began to stalk forward, his nose scrunched and teeth flashing in a warning. "If it isn't my knight in leather armour," (Y/N) cooed as she lowered her bow and arrow, discarding them to the floor as she stepped towards Hiccup and Toothless.

"Well, I wouldn't say-" Hiccup began to say, cutting himself off as he watched (Y/N) crouch in front of Toothless. "And she was talking to the dragon," He muttered grudgingly.

Trying to conceal a wince as she lowered herself to the ground, (Y/N) scratched the underside of Toothless's chin for a few seconds before raising again, angling herself so Hiccup could see her torn skin, a pool of blood starting to build and soak her shirt. "Don't worry, I didn't forget about you Hiccup," (Y/N) hummed as she lightly dragged her fingers against Hiccup's shoulder, placing herself behind him and on Toothless's back.

"Hold on," Hiccup warned, waiting only a moment as he felt (Y/N) wrap her arms around his waist before he adjusted Toothless's tail and the two of them shot up from the dragon hunters ship, Toothless shooting a plasma blast to the boat deck, both scattering the hunters and tearing through the wooden surface. "Are you ok? Toothless and I tried to get over here as fast as possible once we noticed you and (D/N) weren't in the air anymore."

"I'm fine," (Y/N) seethed through her teeth, trying to keep her voice level as she lied to Hiccup. A soft rumble came from Toothless as he looked back at (Y/N), sensing something Hiccup couldn't. "We need to get (D/N) though. She was taken down before I was."

"Astrid and Snotlout are already on it," Hiccup assured, chancing a glance back at (Y/N) to give her a reassuring smile. But when his gaze landed on her clouded-over eyes his smile instantly dropped. Turning his head back round and lowering himself forward to whisper into Toothless's ear, "Get us out of here bud."

At the increase in Toothless's speed, (Y/N)'s grip tightened around his waist. "No- wait- Hiccup! We can't leave yet. What about (D/N)?" (Y/N) chocked out in a panicked shout, head whipping around to face the ship both Astrid and Snotlout were hovering over a dragon hunters ship, one of (D/N)'s wings sticking straight up as the sound of shouts rung out from said boat.

"Like I said, Astrid and Snotlout will take care of it. Toothless and I are getting you back to the Edge," Hiccup stated, leaving no room for objection.

Against his hopes, however, (Y/N) still attempted to object to him. "I need to be there when (D/N) is retrieved. I'm not going to abandon her with a bunch of dragon hunters to be sold off."

"She won't be alone. Astrid and Snotlout are going to be with her every step of the way," Hiccup's voice took a gentle tilt, one of his hands reaching back to steady (Y/N) on Toothless's back. When his hand came in contact with (Y'N)'s side, a large hiss escaped her, forcing Hiccup to retract his hand quickly and look back at her with a worried glint in his eyes. "Are you sure your okay, (Y/N)? You don't sound too good."

"Hiccup I'm fine," (Y/N) murmured, head still turned so she could face the dragon hunters ship, Watching as Stormfly took out a few hunters with her spines and Hookfang lit himself on fire, a startled screech coming from Snotlout at the sudden heat. As Astrid and Stormfly dived towards the boat deck, (Y/N) turned her head back around before resting her chin on Hiccup's shoulder. "Let's just get back to the Edge."

"At least we're finally on the same page," Hiccup muttered, eyes flickering down to where (Y/N) lay. At the pale complexion of the (H/C) haired girl, he turned back to Toothless and muttered, "Get us out of here Toothless."

The black-scaled dragon let out a light roar before shooting forward, propelling himself as he raised himself further into the air, gliding at level with the clouds. Fishlegs and the twins were ahead of them, flying closer to the water's surface as they had a headstart on getting away from the destroyed fleet on hunting ships.

There was almost a sense of calmness in the skies. If it wasn't for the dreadful silence and the loosening grip of (Y/N) behind him, Hiccup could nearly say it was an enjoyable flight. "Just hang on a little longer (Y/N). It won't be long now."

"I don't know what you're on about, Hiccup," (Y/N) attempted to chuckle, raising her head so she could shake it before dropping her forehead to rest on his shoulder, eyes glancing down ar ger side where she could see her blood-stained shirt sticking to her skin, the red mellowing in with the dark tones of her shirts.

"That's alright," Hiccup said airly, focusing on the sky in front of them.

When Toothless's feet touched down, (Y/N) was instantly on her feet and making her way towards her hut, taking some staggering steps every once in a while as a flare of pain shot through her side. With every step she had to fight back a wince, trying to compose herself as she knew Hiccup's eyes were most likely watching her, sceptical of nothing but she needed to get away from Hiccup so she could fix the gash in her side.

She didn’t get far though before the clicking of Hiccup's metal leg was racing to catch up to her. “Are you sure your okay (Y/N)?” Hiccup asked once he was walking in step with (Y/N). “Ever since the dragon hunters ship there’s been something off about you.”

(Y/N) chanced Hiccup a glance from the corner of her eye, furrowing her brows at the implication. “I don’t know what you want to hear hiccup. I’m fine. I can say it again if that’ll help-“ (Y/N) was cut off as her knees gave out from below her.

Bracing herself for impact, she welcomes the crash that never comes. Instead, she is engulfed by two warm arms. One of Hiccups' hands landed on her gashed side, making (Y/N) jolt upwards in pain. “Oh my gods! I’m so sorry (Y/N),” Hiccup exclaimed as he lifted his hand from your side allowing you to sag in relief as the pain subsided. Hiccup could only feel dread however as he saw the red liquid coating his fingertips. He stopped breathing at the sight of it, the remaining arm wrapped around (Y/N) tightening.

“I promise it’s no big deal Hiccup,” (Y/N) began as she struggled to try and push herself up. “It’s just a small cut. Once I wrap it I’ll be as good as new.”

“Good as new?” Hiccup questioned outraged as all his breath came flooding back into him at the sound of (Y/N)’s voice. “You can barely walk and seem to be losing consciousness by the second. Sorry if I don’t think you'll be able to walk this off like every other mission gone wrong.”

“Have a little faith in me Hiccup,” (Y/N) muttered as Hiccup helped to right her up, both his arms still wrapped securely around her, careful of where his fingers splayed to not bring her any more harm than she had already endured.

"My faith will be restored once we get you patched up."

"I can live with that," (Y/N) agreed, nodding her head sluggishly as she spoke, maybe the blood loss had started to get to her. "Just drop me off at my house and I'll be able to take care of it."

"You've done more than enough to prove you can't be left alone," Hiccup stated, voice sharp as his worry for (Y/N) started to build. Turning his head back to Toothless who had been slowly trailing after them with his face turned into something of worry, Hiccup said to the dragon, "Keep an eye out for (D/N) and come and get us when the other dragon riders land. I'll be with (Y/N) helping patch up her wound."

"You don't need to help Hiccup, really," (Y/N) said with a shake of her head. "You've already done more than enough for me. All I need help with is getting back to my hut."

"It's fine (Y/N), I want to help you." The two of them began walking at a slow pace, Hiccup considerate of the breaks (Y/N) had to take every couple of meters to steady her breathing. "It's times like this where I wished we picked a better design for the Edge."

(Y/N) turned her head to face the taller boy with two furrowed brows. "I like the design we have," She said slowly.

"Yeah, but not in moments like this," His voice grew softer.

"My hut is a perfect distance from the stables that at night I don't have to hear the snores of Hookfang or any other dragon that might be staying there."

A soft chuckle left Hicuup's lips. "I think you were the only one who took that into account when deciding where your hut would be."

"At least I'm not like Fishlegs."

"Why's that?"

"I didn't decide to build my hut on the ground," (Y/N) states like it's obvious. "Sure my hut's a bit of a trek from the clubhouse but I think it's worth it now that it's actually built."

As (Y/N) stopped speaking, the two of them stopped outside of her hut. Hiccup left her side only momentarily to open the door for her, reaching out an arm to help her hobble inside. They only broke apart once more after Hiccup urged her to go and take a seat at her bed while he looked for something to wrap her side in.

"Tomorrow we should fly to Berk," Hiccup started as he began to walk back over to (Y/N). He hadn't been able to find any scraps to use so instead he had a worn-out green shirt that he hadn't seen (Y/N) wear in a while. "Gothi will have better supplies than we do."

"Nonsense." Hiccup began by tearing a strip of the fabric off before gesturing for (Y/N) to lift her shirt and expose where she had been cut. Hiccup tried to keep his voice level as he spoke, watching as the fresh and old blood became clearer. "We need to make sure one of our best dragon riders is in top shape."

A hiss disguised as a chuckle left (Y/N)'s lips at the first contact. After that, not many words were spoken between the two of them as Hiccup worked with delicate hands while (Y/N) was left to watch while keeping her shirt out of the way.

When Hiccup finished he stayed crouched in front of (Y/N), not letting his eyes stray afar from her covered skin. "Promise me you'll be more careful out there," Hiccup muttered lowly, throat sounding dry as he refused to meet (Y/N)'s eye.

(Y/N)'s forehead creased at the boy's words, and her eyes downturned as she tried to catch his eyes. "I never tried to put myself in danger. It's just they had (D/N) and things started to get a little rocky until you showed up."

"I should have been there quicker," He shook his head, a few small braids flying as his hair got tangled. "I don't know what I would do if you got hurt like this again."

A soft sigh escaped from (Y/N)'s lips as she spoke, a hand hesitating only briefly before she was reaching forward to rest it on Hiccup's cheek, guiding his head so he was facing her. "Today was a one-off. Normally it's me who's saving you and Toothless remember?"

"I know." A ghost of a smile appeared on Hiccup's face before it was disappearing just as quickly as it arrived. "I just can't bare to see you get hurt again."

"And I won't," (Y/N) hummed as she bent forward, resting both of their foreheads together. "What we do is dangerous Hiccup, but you got to trust me when I say I'll be fine. I wasn't paying attention today, that's why (D/N) and I went down. I'll forever have the memory of today to remind me to pay more attention, okay?"

"Okay," Hiccup sighed, his shoulders relaxing from their tensed position.

"Now," (Y/N) said as a smile stretched across her face. Standing up, she dragged Hiccup up by the hand as she began to carefully walk to the door of her hut with a staggering one-legged Viking behind her. "I've got a dragon shipment that should be coming in soon. Do you mind escorting me back?"

"Of course, m'lady," Hiccup grinned, offering (Y/N) his arm once he fell into step beside her. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you on your way back to the stables." Hiccup said, elating a laugh out of (Y/N).

That was how the two of them ended up walking arm-in-arm back to the stables where an energetic (D/N) was waiting for them.

#hiccup x reader #hiccup httyd #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup haddock #reader insert #rtte #rtte fanfic #httyd fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #toothless #night fury #astrid #stormfly #deadly nadder #snotlout #hookfang #monstrous nightmare #gronckle #meatlug #fishlegs #ruffnut #tuffnut #barf and belch #hideous zippleback #race to the edge

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 3: Praise

♤♡-Pairs: Kazuha x fem!reader

☆☆-Warnings: mention of female anatomy, mentions of riding, chest fondling, whimpering/whining kazuha, loving Kazuha, lots of praise ♡

"Mm, you're even more radiant in this light, petal." Kazuha murmured, his hands resting softly on the flesh of your thighs. His cock buried to the hilt, making you feel full in all kinds of ways. You whined, your hands resting just as soft on his bare shoulders. Using it as perfect leverage to lift yourself, riding him as he sat reclined against your headboard. "Kazu.." your lips parted, letting out his name in a breathy moan.

"You sound so pretty when you're taking me, truly a melody I'd have on replay."

His fingers, both bandaged and not, slid up your sides. Coming to rest firmly on your breasts, massaging them. His thumbs came and swiped against the hardened buds. It always amazed you how fascinated he'd get watching them harden under his touch. And you had to admit, seeing it only made you feel hotter for him.

Your head craned backwards, hips shifting back and forth as you picked up your movements. Even your breasts started to jiggle in his hands, but that only made him praise you more.

He whined,"Fuck baby, you feel so good. Taking me so well." The grip on your chest tightened and his cock twitched inside you. That only served to give you more reason to ride him as well as you could. Soon, Kazuha found himself leaning into you. His hands no longer holding your perfect breasts, instead they opted to hold you close. His face buried in your neck as he murmured more praises against your skin.

"Doing so well, love. Don't stop. Keep riding me like that, yeah! Fuck, you're sucking me in. That's it pretty girl, keep moving your hips." His breath was hot against you, and his whines filled your ears. It wouldn't be long before you both lost yourself to the throws of pleasure. His nails dug into your back as he now helped you move, chanting your name over and over. Mumbling "s'good" and "that's my pretty girl."

His hips stilled, spilling himself inside you as he cried out your name. Kazuha had always been a lover who didn't mind letting you know how you made him feel. He'd tell you from to beginning to end how well you were doing. How much you affected him. He pressed soft kisses to your neck as he held you close.

"You did so well, petal. Wanna go again? I still have time before my ship departs."

Masterlist

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#genshin impact #kinktober #genshin impact smut #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin impact x reader #lovelies-getting-freaky

[welcomingdisaster]

need to keep quiet ft. maedhros rescuing maglor?

@grey-gazania here is my best attempt to fulfill both prompts! pardon the length; it got a little out of hand. <3 ao3

This could have been over quickly, if not for Maglor’s pride. 

He is among the least conspicuous of his brothers; dark-haired and grey-eyed, as so many of the Noldor, tall but not excessively so, not particularly fair of face. In his wanderings he had not worn finery—there is none left to wear—and had not held himself particularly apart from the tattered few remaining servants yet by his side. 

But one thing he had left. 

His silver circlet with the carved orchid, which had been on his brow during his journey aboard the stolen ships. He had set it aside only during his brief reign as regent, forced to take on a heavier, grander crown. As crown prince of the Noldor he returned to it; as the lord of the Gap he had worn it. 

For it is among the few pieces of jewelry made by his mother’s hand, and not his father’s; a slightly-awkward foray into art not her own, and yet beautiful for it, the petals of the orchid rendered with the sensibilities of a sculptor. Inside she pressed the name she had given him in beautiful, looping Tengwar. 

And even with all lost he had not been able to force himself to discard it. 

It had been pressed to his scalp under layers of grime, tangled in locks too heavy with mud and blood to curl. There had been no time to stop and to wash, for they had ridden through conquered land, fleeing from the forces of the Enemy, and thought any stop could be deadly. 

Such hurry had not saved them. 

Maglor could have put on a better fight. If he had seen the Enemy’s soldiers quicker—if his sword-arm had not been shattered in the battle two months ago and only half-healed— if he had not been choking on the black smoke of the burning lands, his throat too rough for war-songs—if—if—if— 

His captors are not orcs. Instead some species of goblin, so short the tops of their heads barely reach his waist but no less vicious for it, victorious through the force of their numbers and their cruelty. There are two elven thralls with them, empty eyed, their blank doll-faces covered in gouge-scars, unreachable through word and mind-touch alike. One of them is chained; the other is not, and Maglor wonders why, because he can see no difference between them. 

This time, though, they had not been looking to take prisoners. Maglor’s company, ambushed, had had nine elves; of them two were killed in the skirmish and the rest wrestled to the ground, their throats bitten out, life-force spilling onto the burned soil.

Maglor would have suffered the same fate, if not for his pride. If not for his crown. If not for the keen eyed goblin that had held him, gasping for breath and half out of his mind with the pain of his ribs and his arm, and seen the glimmer of silver on his brow. 

“Style yourself as a lord, do you?” The goblin has asked him, twisting his broken arm further behind him, and Maglor had been beyond words; could barely understand the question being posed to him. Then the goblin had let him go, just briefly. He made to roll away, gasping, shattered, but one sharp foot kicked at him, and suddenly two of them, not so light as they seemed, were standing on his back, and there was no moving. 

From the conversation behind him, snatches of the orcish tongue mixed with rough-hewn Sindarin, he had been able to tell the circlet was being passed around. None of them had been able to read it; none of them read Tengwar, or perhaps none of them read at all. Maglor had strained to turn, to sit up, to see—had been able to push himself up on his elbow just in time to see the gleam of silver pass to one of the unchained elven thralls. 

The thrall had looked down at the crown in his hands. Maglor had watched with bated breath as his dark empty eyes followed the lines of the writing. Finally some splash of emotion on that blank face, an automatic flick of the eyes to Maglor. 

Lie, Maglor had mouthed, lie. Let them kill me. Spare me your own fate. 

The elf’s thin chained hand, so pale if it was not moving Maglor would have thought it wax, or else dead, had shaken. One deep breath, two. 

Then he had shut his eyes and read, the perfect pronunciation making it quite clear he had once been Noldor, “Kánafinwë Makalaurë, captain. In the old lands it was the name of the second prince.” 

And that had sealed Maglor’s fate. 

That assault had been two weeks ago. By now Maglor has grown used to the erratic movements of the camp, the sudden jerks this way and that as the ill-established goblin leadership seems to change at random the course of their journey, the taste of black ash in the water, the infrequent meals of bird-meat, the constant, unyielding pain. 

In the battle proper his arm had been broken in three places; it had started to heal, before his capture. When he was taken they had wrenched off the sling, had kicked and pulled at the broken bone, sensing weakness, as they had wrestled him into chains. After looking him over the then-head goblin had smashed the toes of his left foot, a terrible pain that left him able to hobble short distances, off-balance and leaning on his heel, but not walk for long, and certainly not run. 

His other injuries ought to be easier to bear; cuts and bruises and claw marks decorate his ribs and his neck, and in places his good arm has gone numb from being bound too tightly, and does not listen to him well when unbound, so that he must rely on the questionable mercy of the thralls when he is allowed to eat or drink or relieve himself. Some of the gritty black ash has wormed its way into the cuts on his skin, and they burn to even brush against; he feels puffy and swollen from all sides and wonders if the goblins would have done better to bring back only his severed head and his silver crown. He might have been more recognizable that way. 

He had tried singing, in the early days of his captivity. And though even then his voice had come out twisted and choked, a shadow of its former power, it had almost been enough. He had sung a sleeping-tune, a lulling tune, and birds, the last stragglers from the once-living forests, had gathered all about him to listen, and the camp had slept, caught in the melody.

He had managed even to get down from the back of the donkey he had been thrown over, to crawl, still singing, to the edges of the camp. But when he had tried to rise his vision had gone black with pain, and his song ceased, if only for a moment. 

It had been enough. Now he is muzzled, gagged, dirty dusty cloth pressing against his lips and scratching at throat with each breath. He tries nothing else. 

The purposes of the thralls have become somewhat more clear to him, though he feels himself missing pieces. The one who is not chained never speaks—Maglor is not sure she is able to—but walks freely about the camp. The goblins do not see well during daylight, and she functions as their eyes, guiding them and keeping vigil while they sleep through the brightest hours of the sun. She looks at Maglor often, though she will not answer the tentative brushes of his mind; sometimes there is life in her big brown eyes, some glimmer of apology.  

Often she stands next to him, a sort of guard. He thinks she is not allowed to touch him. Once when his hands had shaken and he had nearly dropped his water skin she had reached on impulse to catch it, had given it back to him in a quick, guilty motion. When once, during one of their day-stops, he had cried out from the pain of his shattered arm she had caught his shoulder, her grip gentle but pointed, and shushed him, looking meaningfully to the sleeping goblin-leader. Maglor did not need to be told twice; the face she had made in response to his silence might even have been a smile. 

The chained thrall, on the other hand, speaks frequently, and his purpose is ill. Clearly he had once known well the land, and now he instructs the goblin crew what they might expect at each turn in the landscape, where elven fortresses and strongholds have been abandoned, what had once been farmland and horse-pasture. It is that thrall that helps Maglor eat and drink most often, all without meeting his eye, and will not look at him otherwise. 

Today they have stopped on the shores of a river. Once it had overflowed the deep river-band, but now it is almost dry, making a sort of ravine, and Maglor looks down at the bared rocks far below him, and then at the chained thrall, who looks away as ever, wistful, and knows they both think the same thing. 

Almost certainly they would die, if they jumped into the ravine. Almost certainly they could not get away quickly enough to make the distance.

No one is coming for him. That Maglor had accepted on the first few nights of his captivity. No one knows where he had been when he was taken; no one knows he yet lives. All that could have told of his survival in the battle are dead, now. 

It hurts worse to think of, because he knows that Maedhros—if Maedhros lives, Elbereth let Maedhros live—would come, if he knew. He has no doubt of that. No part of Maedhros would pay back Maglor’s failure in kind; no part of Maedhros would hesitate, at risk of Doom, to chase him through the burned land. For despite it all Maedhros is nobler than he, more faithful, better. 

Maglor breathes in deeply, suppressing a cough at the dust that tickles his lungs, and prays to the lady of the stars. Let Maedhros think I died quickly, in the battle. Let Maedhros know not of this, and hold not my guilt. 

Above them the sun is scorching hot. The earth despoiled as it is, burned and torn up, carcasses of trees piled in ugly funeral-mounds, there is nowhere to shelter from the heat. Maglor wishes someone had thought to let him down from the back of the ass—which he is now bound to—for both he and the poor beast clearly suffer for their proximity. The chained thrall, allowed to sleep during the day, sighs and curls up in the shade found underneath one of the great fallen trees. He draws dark earth over his feet; it looks damp, cool. Maglor envies him. 

The unchained thrall, who must be awake, ambles back and forth around the little camp, less the regimented paces of a watch-guard and more the random movements of a sleepwalker. There are goblins awake too, Maglor knows, on the edges of the camp; he can hear their faint conversation. 

When the thrall passes by him Maglor catches her eye; if he were not gagged he would smile. 

She inclines her head a little to him. Motioning for him to sleep, Maglor thinks, and winces. Nods down at the donkey. Too hot. 

She repeats the head motion, a little more insistent. Maglor blinks. Something behind him? 

It pains him to turn and look, his shoulder muscles and rib-wounds aching at the pull of the motion. But nonetheless he does turn, and sees that birds have gathered on the fallen trees, a rather heterogeneous assortment; ravens and magpies, songbirds and sparrows, one great hawk sitting discordantly among the prey-birds. 

The goblins are not there to shoo them, and they do not make noise enough to wake them or to draw the attention of the distant guards. Maglor looks at the thrall-woman and shrugs, though even that little motion hurts. He is tired of the power pain has over him; it should certainly grow dull and pointless by now, should wane, and yet its bite controls him just as much as it had two weeks ago. He goes limp, because that hurts the least, and watches what unfolds. 

Certainly the thrall-woman might be expected to scare away their unexpected guests;  both of them know she shall not. She hesitates for a moment, clearly caught between fear and some desperate, painful hope; when one of the sparrows hops towards her she holds out her hand by impulse to catch it. 

Her hands shake as she unwinds the little piece of parchment fastened around its leg. There is one word written on it in clear, bright Tengwar, so large Maglor can effortlessly read it even with the distance between them. Sharp hand. 

Quiet. 

He watches the elf-thrall’s throat bob as she swallows. Remembers the betrayal, before, from the other thrall. Her hand rises to her throat; he wonders if she is thinking of the irony of the request. Of the hurt she had been dealt. 

Finally she turns to him. Holds out the note, to be sure he has seen. Raps against the parchment once with her nail, waits for his nod. Slips it back to the sparrow. 

The birds take off all at once, leaving behind only one of the magpies. Maglor feels his heart beat hard against his ears, pressure building in his chest. He is grateful to be able to bite down on the gag. 

What can he do, he wonders? His arm is broken, his toes. His hands are chained together and bound to the saddle of the donkey. He is useless. 

Worse than useless. He is a liability. 

One beat passes, two. Maglor tries not to imagine that he knows the sharp hand of the writer. Tries not to read into the single pragmatic word, the dark ink, the worn parchment.

Tries to tell himself that he is dreaming; that he is mad. Certainly it is easier than dashed hope. Certainly it is easier than the horrible, choking fear. 

He will come, and I will doom him. 

The elf-maid resumes her paces. There is a different energy to her now, a different tension underneath the set of her shoulders. Maglor listens to the sighing of the donkey and the sleeping rumbles of the goblins. The chained thrall whimpers in his sleep. 

Do not wake, Maglor begs in his mind. Do not wake. 

He marks the time not by counting but by reciting verses in his mind, prayer hymns. Eight verses; half an hour, give or take, given the speed of recitation. 

Then finally he hears it; the drawing of a bowstring, the sound of an arrow in the air. Maglor strains himself to sit up in the saddle, and succeeds only in hurting his ribs; walls back against the back of the donkey, suppressing coughs into the spit-soaked cloth gag. The pain is so overwhelming that for a moment all thoughts of rescue are lost; all he can focus on is the sensation of his diaphragm hitching, the pain that leaves his chest as an over-inflated water skin and yet still somehow robs him of air. 

He can feel the skin of the donkey jump, its dark itchy fur pressing into the skin of his forearms. It too is bound. It too cannot run. 

Somewhere there is a faint thud. He can hear the quick gasping breath of the unchained thrall, and then she is half-running to his side, her face terrified. She has seen something. 

And finally, finally, a familiar mind brushes against his, huge and solid and warm, and he weeps with it. A sob threatens him, and he holds his breath, unwilling to both make noise and to let it rock through him. 

Maedhros’ thoughts are regimented; structured very purposefully to let no feeling through. Do you hear me, brother? 

Yes, Maglor thinks, Yes, Elbereth—yes. 

I will be there soon, Maedhros says, I know you are bound; I will cut you down. We must be silent, and we must be swift. We are badly outnumbered, and we cannot risk pursuit. 

You ought not have risked this at all, Maglor thinks, stupidly, desperately grateful. There is nothing he would not do, now, to have Maedhros’ arms around him; to have his brother take him down and hold him tight. 

Maedhros does not answer. The elf maid turns to him and begins to undo the ropes that bind him to the ass’s back; in his mind Maglor begs the animal not to bray with relief. She is half-done when the huge shadow of Maedhros looms over her shoulder; the rest he cuts through swiftly with his sword. The chains will have to wait; Maedhros reaches for the gag and Maglor draws back, speaking in their minds. 

Leave it. If I have nothing to bite I will cry out. 

Maedhros pales, but does as he is bid. He draws Maglor slowly into his arms, looping his chained hands over his neck—that pulls at Maglor’s arm, and his eyes water—and steps back, gesturing for the elf-maid to follow him.  

As they turn Maglor sees the other thrall, the chained man, curled still sleeping in the cold dark soil. His dreams are ill, as they ever are. If they woke him, perhaps he would shout. If they woke him, perhaps he would leave with them. He had once been Noldor, Maglor remembers. He had once known this land. 

Maglor thinks of all the people who would stop to help him, betrayal or none, risk or none. Finrod, bright-eyed and noble despite the horrible doom upon him; Fingon, stubbornly, fiercely hopeful even though his grief, stubbornly, fiercely kind. Elves better than him; elves more noble, less bloodstained. Dead lords. 

I want to live, Maglor thinks, and says nothing. Leaves the chained thrall behind. 

Maedhros bears him away, over the burned ground and the bodies of the goblin-guards, and just then Maglor is grateful for the blinding pain of his ribs and his arm, for the ache in his toes, for the ashy smell of the air, for the 

Dreams do not feel so.

* * * 

 There is a little company of elves waiting for them on the edges of the forest. Bow-men. Warriors. The last, likely, of Himring’s men, her guards. That Maedhros has brought into enemy territory—that they had followed him, knowing full well the risk—bears not thinking about. 

Even the few swift horses spared for the journey seem like a waste, a desperate measure. Maglor watches, distant and glassy-eyed, as the elf-maid that aided him is helped onto the horse of one of Maedhros’ archers. Then Maedhros murmurs brace yourself low in his ear and pulls him onto his own horse with him, still using his chained hands to hold them together. 

Maglor falls against him, shaking and dizzy with pain, each part of his a different disconnected, heavy thing, and loses time. There is some period where he is vaguely aware of the movement of the horse, of bone striking bone in his broken arm, of the heat of Maedhros’ body next to him, the air brushing against his skin. 

There are fingers—fingers on his jaw and his face, and he recoils. The low rumble of Maedhros’ voice stops him, soothes him, though it takes him a moment to grasp the meaning of his words. Maedhros, he realizes, is working free the gag shoved into Maglor’s mouth. 

It comes out spit-soaked and oddly crunchy around the edges, tasting of dust and of blood. Maedhros rubs at the junction of his jaw, chasing away the little ache left behind. Maglor, so full of aches he feels more ache than elf, could weep at the care of it. 

They are riding still when Maedhros presses a water skin between his lips and coaxes him to swallow. The water is warm with the heat of Maedhros’ body but clean, pleasant. It lends Maglor the strength to settle against Maedhros’ chest, to listen to the steady beating of his heart and watch the burned landscape go by. 

“How?” he whispers. How did you know I was taken? How did you know where? 

“The birds,” Maedhros says, “thirty years I spent upon the cliffside, and for thirty years I heard only their tongue; and their tongue I still speak now. Usually it is not in their nature to listen well to me, but their land has been despoiled as much as ours had, and their desire to spite the enemy is great.” 

Maglor hums. The birds. Of course the birds. 

“Try to rest,” Maedhros tells him, “we will not be able to stop during the night, for in the darkness the enemy’s forces are at their strongest. If we ride through the night we might be able to come to contested land, and then to elven strongholds, buried deep into the sides of the hills.” 

Maglor means to tell him that he cannot rest; that he is far too hurt and it is far too hot, that certainly the shock of the capture and then the escape has been too great. But the words seem far away, barely worth saying. The dark landscape begins to blur together around him, and he does not notice at all when night falls. 

* * * 

When he wakes they are no longer horseback. Above him a pale-pink dawn rises, and the razed lands have given way to a sparse sprinkling of forest, pine tree branches swaying in the breeze. Someone yanks at the chain on his wrists, and Maglor cries out in pain, curses them automatically—thrice-damned ditch-dogs—and at that someone laughs, not the biting fire of goblin laughter but warm and elvish. 

“Easy,” Maedhros says, “easy, little ferret. We are only trying to free you.”   

His hand finds Maglor’s good hand. Squeezes. 

Maglor looks down, and sees that one of the archers is working open the locking mechanism of the chains, pressing a thin metal wire inside it. It jingles, stubborn. 

He would not mind it, he thinks, if they cut off the bad arm, so horribly swollen and twisted, barely a part of him at all. And how horribly it hurts now. 

But the lock yields, and the chain is off, his shoulders protesting the change in positions. Maedhros sits behind Maglor, and pulls him to sit up, leaning against him. Maglor watches, feeling slow and stupid, as he shakes out a flask. 

“For the pain,” he says, and presses it against Maglor’s lips. The liquor, mixed thickly with herbs and with honey, bites at throat, the sweetness coating his tongue. Still Maglor drinks as much of it as Maedhros lets him. He feels the effects almost immediately; his body is further from him, his mind fuzzier around the edges and warm. 

Maedhros wraps an arm around him from behind, bracing him. “He will set your arm, now,” he says, “as much as he might.” 

The archer moves forward, offering him a little smile. Promises to be quick with it. 

Then even the liquor cannot save his dignity. Maglor shudders at the first touch of cold fingers against the swollen flesh of his arm; howls as the horrible scrape of bone against bone, of something within him being pulled and straightened, and through it Maedhros holds him tightly and kisses his hair from behind him. Talks of crisp clean sheets and tea with milk and walking barefoot through the mountain rivers. 

It is only later, his arm and his toes bound, his ribs and neck covered in sticky roadside poultice, that Maglor finds it in himself to speak. Leans his head against Maedhros’ shoulder and murmurs, “You ought not have come. You have heard tales, I am sure, of how the battle started.” 

Both of them think of it at once. The younger brother pulled to pieces in front of the elder; the horrible grief-stricken charge. Maedhros shudders. Bends, again, to kiss Maglor’s hair. 

“I would have come then too,” he says, “if I were him.” 

The words ought not settle to warm and secure in Maglor’s chest. And yet they do, they do. 

#my fic #maedhros #maglor #i'll clean it up later and put it on ao3 #but for now! #:)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

5 and jerejean for the kiss thing? 🥺🥺🥺

you chose a different kind of violence and i respect it (thank you thank you thank you)

5. Romantic (Tender) Kiss

Jean Moreau was not soft, but Jeremy had not expected him to be. Of all the rumours he'd heard, he'd always thought this one most likely to be true. You could not play a sport like exy, with a team like the Ravens, under the lead of someone like Riko Moriyama, and remain soft.

It was hardly surprising. Jeremy was often assumed to be soft, because it was something kindness was often mistaken for, but even for him it was not entirely true. There were parts of him that were hardened into a protective shell, and parts of him that were splintered and rough, same as anyone else. But he could not deny his softness in the sense of being gentle, because even at his worst he would try to be that—especially for someone like Jean.

Jean was not gentle, either. He did not try for softness in any sense. His insides were brittle and bitter; his outside was scarred and tough; his manner was sharp and blunt. Jeremy was in parts soft, and in hopes gentle, but Jean had been scourged of such customs.

What remained, though, was tenderness.

Jeremy had been surprised the first time Jean kissed him, for how tender it was. He'd been waiting for the aggression Jean often showed on the court, or for the violence that tended to drip from his tongue when he spoke, but the way Jean had cradled Jeremy's face and pressed them together could not be described as anything other than tender.

Now, Jeremy understood how to return it when Jean needed it.

Catching when Jean needed it was upsettingly easy. The storm cloud that had accompanied him all day, for instance, was one way of knowing.

It made it easy to follow Jean to his room—their room, really, now, considering the two narrow beds they'd crammed in and how much more frequently Jeremy stayed here, rather than his parents' house, because he could, because he was allowed, because Jean wanted him there and that made it more of a home than anywhere Jeremy had ever lived before—and pull him in.

Jean came without resistance. His towering frame tucked itself in to reach more of Jeremy's touch as Jeremy slid a hand over the back of his neck. Jean's hands, large and calloused, fit themselves around the dips of Jeremy's waist, smooth and easy in contrast to the stuttery breath that fell out of him. Not a careful touch, but a caring one, not light or gentle but tender, always tender.

Jeremy drew him down, slid his other hand over Jean's cheek, and stretched until they were pressed together. Even toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, Jean pushed closer. He rested his forehead against Jeremy's and shuddered, his eyes drifting shut.

"Alright, Jean?" Jeremy asked, the French vowels falling from his tongue with more ease after months of practice.

Jean's lips quirked. "Alright, Jeremy."

Jean's accent curled around Jeremy's name, and Jeremy's chest tightened predictably. He stroked his thumb over Jean's cheekbone, pressed it to the stark black outline of a flower petal, and drew him into a kiss.

Jeremy corrected himself; Jean's lips may have been the one part of him that was soft. And though he was tough, he was malleable, molding to the shaping of Jeremy's hands with little pressure. Jeremy kept his touch firm, still, because Jean liked to feel it, but tender, always tender.

Jean nudged his nose against Jeremy's, the quirk of his lips curling almost into a smile, and Jeremy ached. Because this, whatever they had and whatever they were, might have been soft, but if it was not, it was only so they would feel it all the better.

send me a number + ship

#jerejean #tsc #aftg #jeremy knox #jean moreau #thank you SO MUCH for letting me write them #screaming and crying myself #i feel very tender ab them #would always be happy to write more 🥰👀 #ask game #prompts

[lawsvalentine]

Where They Take You On a Date • OP Men HC• (SFW)

Fem!reader

CW: Lots of Fluff, kissing, slightly suggestive

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Law,

Cee’s Note: This literally made me so happy writing this. They are all so 😍 anyways hope y’all enjoy

Luffy

Fair Date

The island that the Sunny was currently docked at had a local fair that Luffy couldn’t wait to take you to.

Be prepared to be dragged on every single ride there. If he sees you’re nervous or scared he will hold your hand and give you his famous grin.

“Don’t be scared Y/N, I got you”

As much as he loves riding rides, he loves the fair food even more. He will literally splurge all the money on fair food shdjdj

He catches you glancing at a cute stuffed animal that was on display at one of the fair game booths. He was determined to win you that stuffed animal at all costs. When he did, he gave you it, earning him a kiss on the cheek.

The last ride you two went on was the ferris wheel. Once you guys make it to the top, you get nervous being so high up. Luffy once again comforts you only this time, he presses his lips against yours.

Your nerves vanish and all your focus was how good his lips felt on you. As the kiss deepened, you felt his hand go up your skirt. Good thing you two were so high up, where no one could see what occurred next 🤭

Zoro

Dinner/bar date

Zoro is a simple man. He usually prefers just quality time with you on the ship whether it’s training together or taking naps on the deck. However, you guys been dating for a while and he decided to take you out on a real date.

He took you to this fancy restaurant that Nami and Robin suggested when he had asked them for advice.

The menu was filled with food you two have never heard of sgdjdj

“How the hell do you even pronounce that?”

You found it sweet that Zoro was trying hard to make this date special but you could tell this was not him.

He was relieved when you suggested to leave the restaurant and go to a bar instead.

The night was filled with laughs as you both got absolutely hammered at that bar

You two may or may not have ended up making out and getting frisky in the bar’s bathroom 👀

Sanji

Picnic date

Ok let’s be real, this man already caters to your every needs on the regular. But today was a special day, it was your anniversary.

Sanji decided to convince the crew to ditch the ship for the day so that you guys would be alone.

He set up a surprise picnic date for you on the deck of the ship. Rose petals were littered all around the blanket. The spread was filled with all your favorite foods and desserts and your favorite wine.

You were in awe at the display and almost teared up at the sight. You told Sanji he didn’t have to do all this for you.

“Nothing but the best for my beautiful angel”

After you guys finished eating, he had given you a small box with a bow on top. Inside was a necklace with his name on it.

Let’s just say you decided to give him his anniversary present right there and then instead of waiting for the bedroom 😉

Usopp

Beach date

Usopp decides to take advantage of the warm sun and plan a beach day with you.

Usopp is playful so your beach day is filled with you chasing each other on the sand and splashing water at each other in the water

You thought it would be funny to bury his body in sand which resulted in him making up a bunch of lies not to do it.

“Sorry Y/N, I happen to have a condition that prevents me from being buried in sand or i’ll die. Hahaha”

He eventually gives in and lets you because you gave him a cute pout. Everything was fine until a crab crawled on top of him and he started freaking out sgdjdj

While you guys were swimming in the water, Usopp grabs you by the waist to come closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around him. His hands hold you up by your thighs as he leans in to give you a deep kiss.

He brings one hand to your bikini bra strap and starts to slip it down. As much as he likes you in your bikini, he would rather have it off 👀

Law

Night stroll date

Like Zoro, Law is another one who enjoys the simple things and isn’t big on grand gestures.

Today you wanted to go out instead of being in his office, but Law kept shooing you away saying he was busy with work.

It was evening now and he felt guilty for ignoring you all day, so he decided to make it up to you.

“Y/N-ya, come walk with me”

The town you guys were docked at was known for having the prettiest city lights and night life.

He held your hand as you two walked through the town checking out the scenery.

While you gazed at the lights, Law couldn’t help but admire you. Yeah the lights were pretty, but he thought you were more beautiful.

His arm wrapped around your waist giving it a slight squeeze, causing you too look up at him. The look on his face you knew all too well.

Let’s just say your walk was cut short for obvious reasons 😏

#one piece #op fanfic #op headcanons #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #usopp #op usopp #one piece usopp #usopp x y/n #usopp x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece law #law x reader #law x y/n

[jjaydazo]

I was thinking of some sort of reader self-insert that I ended up making a full on OC on this woman to the point she has a name already.

Anyways Her name is Jing Xu, she's a wanderer who tells stories, tales with her instrument Pipa. she can sing with it too.

Sun Wukong met her after JTTW events and she was ran into her when Wukong was doing Monky high jinks in disguise and happened to hear short stories with an instrument playing. He looked over and saw a few people crowded around her listening to her tales.

After she was done and there's no one else around her Wukong tries to walk up and mess with her, like stealing her instrument, playing it himself (in which he played it badly) and runs around expecting the woman to be annoyed.

she is in fact not annoyed.

instead, she is smiling all the time and shows no negative emotions towards the little impulsive monkey. she even offers the small creature a snack. She's more amused than annoyed thinking it's probably just a curious of her instrument.

She even enjoys the small creature's company, tells small stories to it and bits of her thoughts, even if it doesn't understand it. nope, he understand everything of it, Ma'am

Wukong falling hard on this woman who is very patient with his playful high jinks and just happens to get pets and kisses from her all the time he now sticks with her and listens to her all of her tales and stories to the point he acted out some of her stories too. Macaque happens see what Sun Wukong is up to, he tries to shape ship one seeing what makes this mortal human catches his interested.

Macaque certainly finds Jing pleasant to listen to as she talks so sweetly and sings like a gentle petal flowing through her voice. When she saw a new creature up to her she thought it was probably friends of her little monkey friend. She treated the small creature the same. (theres another story I have in mind of Macaque fallen hard)

#Jing Xu #JTTW #wandering reader AU #is what im going to call this au i guess #reader x character #reader x wukong #reader x macaque #im worried if her outfit is inaccurate

[fullsunstrawberry]

NCT Reaction:

How they ask you to be their Valentine

Warning** Slight suggestive with Jeno and Haechan. Also SUPER fluffy.

a/n: Happy Valentines day :))!! Some are shorter than others but this is very fluffy.

[nct dream masterlist]

Mark:

Mark Would defensively assume he was your valentine since you two are dating.

It's not until the Dreamies asked how he would ask you, that he realized he was supposed to.

Mark was struggling to think of ways to ask you to be his Valentine

He's never asked anyone to be his Valentine and he felt since he already asked you to be his girlfriend, which was hard enough, now he had to ask you to be his Valentine too!

He felt he was going crazy! Pinterest wasn't helping either. Everything was a little too cringe for his liking.

You decided to surprise him by randomly showing up to his dorm to watch movies in bed.

This made Mark realize he was worrying about nothing. You didn't even like big romantic gestures.

So he turned to you when you were trying to pick out the next movie.

"Y/n, will you be my Valentine?"

You turned to look at him and giggled. "Of course, you're my boyfriend after all."

Renjun:

You two knew each other because you share the same friend group.

What you didn’t know is that said friend group shipped you with Renjun.

They thought you two were the cutest, even though you have only talked a few times

This didn't stop the group from coming up with a plan. A plan to get you two alone on Valentine's day.

It was actually pretty easy.

Forcing you both to accept going on a blind date.

The guys had to bribe Renjun into going. While you were a lot easier to convince.

Hey a free meal and not being alone on Valentine's day, even if you were stuck with someone you didn't even know, didn't seem so bad.

Walking into the restaurant your friend sent you the location of, you were shocked. It was a lot fancier than you thought. \

Quickly straightening your dress you told the waitress your name and she started to walk you toward your table.

You were too busy looking around the place to notice Renjuns confused face.

"Y/n? did the guys put you up to this?"

Jeno:

You’ve been sleeping with Jeno for a few months now.

Never wanting to label anything because no one actually knows about you two hooking up.

The first time was because you both were very tipsy.

It was convenient too, already always being at the dorm because you were friends with Chenle and Jisung.

The night before Valentine's day, you were lying in bed with Jeno.

You checked your phone to see your friends blowing up the group chat talking about how lonely they're going to be tomorrow and how you should come over to have a Galtines day.

You giggled while showing Jeno your phone, so he can read what your friends are saying.

"Are you going to tell them you can't go?" He questioned.

You were confused because you didn't even have plans for tomorrow.

"Why would I not go?"

"Oh, I thought we were going to hang out?" Jeno pouted.

You smile as poke his cheek. " You never asked me to be your Valentine?"

"Well, will you be my Valentine?"

You nodded and kissed his cheek

"And will you be my girlfriend, so I can officially take you on a date?"

You couldn't help but smile "Of Course!"

Jeno pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head.

"Good because you didn't have much of a Choice!"

Haechan:

Haechan had a whole plan!

He bought you a bouquet and a teddy bear, he even wrote you a love poem and attached it to the teddy bear's hands.

He even spread rose petals on his floor, wanting the vibe to be perfect.

His whole plan crashed down when he opened the door to invite you inside.

You weren't alone, Jisung tagged along.

To be fair, you were already hanging out with the Dreamies before going to Haechan's dorm. It wasn't your fault Jisung wanted to tag along.

Haechan smiled at you and moved so you can walk through the door.

Once you were taking your shoes off, he shot Jisung a glare.

Jisung was taken aback, not sure why Haechan wasn't happy to see him.

"Oh, I didn't know you were bringing someone." Haechan put on a fake smile.

"Jisung wanted to get out of the house." You shrugged.

You all ended up watching a movie together.

When Jisung got up to get some more popcorn, he accidentally spilled your drink, which resulted in your shirt getting soaked.

Jisung let out a bunch of apologies before you told him it was okay and got up to get another shirt from Haechan's closet.

Haechan got up to tell you not to go into his room, but it was too late.

You opened the door and was met with his little plan.

You gasps and turned around to face Haechan.

"Was this for me?"

Haechan only nodded his head.

You turned to face "Jisung, can you go back to the dorm?"

With a quick nod, Jisung put on his shoes and left.

Haechan was shocked, he didn't know what to say.

"Isn't this the part when you ask me?"

Haechan let out a little oh before a huge smile grew on his face.

"Y/n will you be my Valentine?"

"Of Course!" You hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Now let's get you out of that disgusting shirt"

(Que Haechan wiggling his eyebrows and winking)

Jaemin:

He would assume you guys were already valentines

But the thing was…he wasn’t even your boyfriend

He’s been your best friend for a long time now

Technically he has been your Valentines every year

Except in high school that one time because he had a girlfriend

He even made you promise to be his Valentine when you had a boyfriend!

Let’s just say that boyfriend didn’t stick around for long.

You were actually kind of tired of Jaemin being your Valentine.

Not because you didn't like his company but because you wanted something more romantic on Valentine's Day.

When one of your classmates offered to set you up on a blind date, you were excited. Rushing to tell Jaemin you had Valentine's date.

Well... he wasn’t as happy as you

"But we're always each other Valentines!" he whined.

"But we only ever watch a bunch of romcoms, it's okay if we don't hang out once" You shrug, not really thinking it's a big deal. "and I really want to go on a date for valentines day."

'Fine, I'll take you on Valentine's date!:" Jaemin smiled.

"I meant a real date," You said putting emphasis on real.

"Okay, I'll take you on a real date" Jaemin shrugged, "I might even kiss you after"

Chenle:

You two always flirted with each other.

That's why it was so hard to tell if he was being sincere.

Did he actually like you or was it because you two always joked like that?

This made Chenle ask you to be his Valentine ten times harder.

He first just straight-up asked you to be his Valentine. But you laughed it off and gave him a middle finger.

The next time he tried to ask you, you didn't even let him finish his sentence

"Will you be my--" "Valentine, already used that one before." You rolled your eyes shooing him away.

This time, he knew what he had to do for you to actually believe him.

He invited you to the dorm and you hung out with all the members.

Not one flirty comment was sent your way.

It surprised you because you kinda missed it.

When it started to get late, Chenle offered to walk you home because it was dark outside.

During the walk you both just talked, no flirty comment once being said.

When you arrived at your apartment, Chenle turned to you.

"You know, I was being serious the first time I asked you to be my Valentine."

This shocked you because he didn't look like he was teasing you at all. He actually couldn't even look at you.

"Ask me again."

Chenle didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that! He looked you in your eyes and smiled.

"Y/n will you be my Valentine, for real!"

Jisung:

Okay I feel like he wouldn’t ask you to be his Valentine because he was scared

You two weren’t dating but everyone knew you two liked each other.

The Dreamies had to help him a little bit

by helping him a little bit, I mean they would invite you over and then would leave you and Jisung alone

This would leave a very awkward Jisung sitting in the living room surrounded by rose petals and chocolate...

You couldn’t help but laugh, not at Jisung but at the situation.

“Did you know about this?” You laugh

He would look around at shrug “I don’t know what’s happening”

“ You’re so cute, They're trying to set us up for Valentine’s Day.” you couldn’t help but blush.

“Oh, will you be my Valentine?”

#nct dream #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct reader insert #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #chenle #haechan #jaemin #jeno #renjun #mark #park jisung #jisung

[shyrose57]

Hey, uh, where's my Pirates SMP Fic where Scott's crew gets a quest to transport the Runeblade somewhere?

Where's my story where they're all out at sea for an unforeseeable time, sailing to distant lands, trapped on the ship with a sword they don't realize is more than it seems until it's far too late to turn back. Trapped with memories they don't know what to do with, and ghosts they never meant to invite onboard.

Scott sets the sword beside his bed, wrapped in it's careful cloth per the specific instructions from the harried collector. It's tucked away carefully, more carefully than even he is prone to, for reasons he can't explain.

Is that care why he wakes choking in the night, spitting up blood, and reaching out hands to yank the blade from his chest only to realize nothing is there, and the thick crimson spilling from his mouth has left no stain?

Is that why the pale dried petals in one of the many books on board slip into red and reform into a flower being tucked behind his ear, by a man in blue, a man in green, a man wearing a wedding ring. He thinks my husband before he thinks stranger, except when he goes to stand nobody is there, and the petals are still tucked between the pages.

Cleo eyes it warily, when it's brought aboard, but thinks nothing more of it, and maybe her carelessness is why she doesn't pay attention when the first flashes begin, just the barest hint of color shifting in the corner of her eye that she passes off as a trick of the light.

Then she turns her head and finds Scott's sprouted fins at his head, red streaked in his hair. A faceless figure behind him raises their sword, and she shrieks and slams into them, only to fall through and tackle her captain instead.

She leans back against the mast, and green flashes beside her, a toothy grin she smiles back at, a name on the tip of her tongue dying as Olive's face comes into focus, smile much softer, and the moss she swore made up their coat vanishes. She can't remember who else she thought it was going to be. She thinks it was someone she would've died for.

Owen has other priorities, and unless he's asked, he doesn't see the need to worry about it. And then, she spills some expensive wine he'd sweet-talked from a Kestrel's hands on the ground, and the exasperation is, for a moment, overwritten by terror. The liquid darkens and the scent of iron makes him reel back for a single moment, before she blinks and it's just....wine again.

He stumbles his way to the ship's side, not nearly drunk enough to wash away the unease in his heart, and double takes at her reflection, now blond and boyish, a warm brown jacket tucked around them tight in the chilly air. Someone calls her name behind him, except it's not his name, it can't be, so fundamentally wrong when the boy staring back at her would never know it was supposed to be his. It takes Water's hand at his shoulder before she responds.

Olive thinks the sword is curious, but that's the extent. Until, at least, the world wobbles under their feet, and the door to the captain's cabin suddenly seems impossibly tall, how are they possibly meant to get in there, they can't reach-

It's utterly nonsensical. It keeps happening. The ship lurches, their heart flutters in terror, for surely they'll be tossed into the walls, and they shake to realize they somehow stayed on their feet. Cruppy prods at their hands, concerned at their behavior, but it's not Cruppy, it's something else that's edges fade too fast for them to grasp. A shadow looks wrong along the ground, and it lunges for them, and they almost goes overboard trying to get away from some phantom that isn't there.

Eloise blinks back sleep from her eyes, not even thinking of the sword in the midst of her crew's strangeness, up until an absolutely beautiful shark swims beneath their boat, and the whole crew watches in quiet appreciation. She spins on her heel, goes to spill forth something that she knows in her heart will be just as pretty but the words don't come out how she wants them to, falling like flat notes in an off-tune song, and she's not even sure what she was trying to do when it's done.

She splits her hand cleaning a sword, and opens her mouth to call for Cleo, even though Owen is mere feet from her and already going for the bandages. The words catch in her throat anyway, when she sees her there with Scott, and the sunlight spins across orange locks turned greenish-ebony, and a tattered overcoat becomes a gorgeous, elegant dress that has no place on a pirate ship, and-and she averts her eyes trying to make sense of the sudden wish to be half as strong as the strangers that had stood where her friends were as Owen helps wrap her hand.

Water dreams. Oh, how she dreams. She dreams of a world where a single red heart hums on her wrist, and knows with a terrible sureness that she won't come back should she misstep here. But that means little, not when the warm earth beneath her fingers settles there so beautifully. Not when the food she pulls from the earth is so ripe, waiting to be torn into and devoured.

She wakes up, and steps from her bed, half-expecting the world to fall out from under her where it flashes gold for a moment, and stumbling for it. A phantom weight twitches at her back, and she greens at the smell of the sea for one, strange second, wondering where the flowers are. She comes back to herself, and tries to shake it off.

They all try to shake it off.

Scott's eyes are not green, or yellow, or red. He makes no noise when Cleo slams him to the floor with a protective snarl, aiming for some opponent no longer there to strike him. He waits for Owen to blink back to herself, and realize Scott cannot do whatever it is he thinks he can, does not know magic the way she sometimes is assured he does. And they quietly disperse the phantoms they catch him begging to in the night without a word, correct him when he inquires after a different brother than the one he has, half-asleep.

Olive is not small. But they are not shoved off when they desperately grasp at Eloise's arms, or tries to steady themselves against Water, when the world seems too big. And they take Water's hands when she scrabbles for the deck, digging at wood until it bloodies her hands, holding them until the other remembers they are at sea. When Eloise grabs for something that isn't there, and goes to jump ship at a flash of pink in the water, Olive pulls her back, and calls her name until she knows herself again.

They try to shake it off, and they utterly fail.

The Runeblade leaves it's mark. Even once it's tossed to it's next owner at their destination by Scott's too cold hands. The dreams fade, but still sit, waiting for them to doze and come awake crying out. The ghosts fall back to the corner of their vision, stepping forward when they make the mistake of wavering, with names they shouldn't know on their lips, and promises none of them ever managed to keep spilling forth.

Give the story, where a wretched quest changes them at their cores in a way they never anticipated.

#pirates smp #scurvyblr #scott smajor #empires smp #ish #zombiecleo

[neverchecking]

Nsfw alphabet for Time Twilight and Wild please... I thirst hard

Can do!

NSFW So MDNI! 18+

Twilight -> Here!

Wild -> Here!

NSFW Alphabet- Time Edition

MDNI! 18+!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

KING of Aftercare. Mans knows what he's doing. I originally was gonna say Twilight or Sky was, but the more I thought about the more I was convinced it's Time. He has the maturity and knowledge and patience needed to effectively and efficiently bring back his beloved from whatever subspace they fell into.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On his partner? Their eyes. They tell him everything he needs to know. Every little emotion that flickers across their irises he's reading. He's adjusting every single one of his actions to better suit whatever emotion is shining in those pretty eyes of yours.

On him? His thighs. Honestly. (Thought I was gonna say hands again, didn't ya?) He loves dragging his lover up and down the muscled flesh, hearing them cry out in pure ecstasy. Or feeling his lover grab at them as they struggle around his length, looking up at him with shiny eyes. Or supporting the weight of his divinity as they bounce up and down on his shaft.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot. Idk why I think this, but I just know it. And he loves cumming deep inside of you. Stuffing you so full it leaks out around him. He's got breeder balls, just so full and big and they smack against your ass every time he has you on your back.

There is something to be said about cumming all over his partner's ass though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He is the biggest sucker for semi-public sex. Especially in the forest. One of his biggest fantasy's is just chasing you into the woods and pining you to a tree. Just taking you right then and there, where no one can hear how loud you scream his name.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a few lays under his belt. Whether we go with Malon is an ex, or a friend, or their in a poly-ship with reader, Time and Malon probably have slept together. So he has experience. He knows all the right spots, he knows how to use his tongue and fingers in tandem, he knows. And if he doesn't? He's so willing to learn.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves having you on his lap, holding you close while your face to face, raising your hips up and down up and down up and down-

Anything that gives him that view of you. Your facial expressions, your chest sheening with sweat, your everything.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. He's not very goofy outside of sex, let alone during. Maybe if Reader cracks a small joke, he'll smile, but other than that, he's focusing on every little action and reaction.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Now, this bad boy right here is...not groomed. Sorry not sorry, it had to be said. He has so many more things to focus on, pubic hair is like...third last on that list. When he does get around to it, it's very nice and trimmed. Perfect. But he lets it grow out for a little too long a little too often. As for color? It's probably the same shade as his head hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

you know that scene in movies where the main love interest coats the bed in like rose petals and candles and stuff? Time pioneered that. He is the second biggest romantic, second only to sky, and aims to please.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Used to do it all the time. His adventure(s) were high stress situations and the ones where he was a teen? He needed a form of release or he would've lost his shit. Now that he's met you though?

Well sometimes he still does it to the thought of you, but most times he saves it because he knows the sight of you, dripping with his cum, is something so worth the pent up energy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding Kink.

Whew, glad to get that one off my chest. Even if we already all knew. It doesn't matter if his partner actually can get pregnant, it's just the principle of filling them up, over and over, and over again.

Also, loves edging. I feel it in my tits. He loves pushing his partner to that edge, over and over again only to rip away that pleasure at the last second. It just riles him up like crazy. That control over everything his partner feels makes every part of him just buzz.

Also also, biggest brat tamer. It's part of why he's so open to semi-public sex. If his significant other is being a shithead, he can just take them behind an inn and teach them a lesson :)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere that's private is a given. Rooms at inns, private bath houses, you name it. But he's also open to the not-so-private areas. Maybe just out of earshot of camp? Or perhaps in an alleyway? Down stream from where the boys are bathing?

There are just so many good options.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

High stress situations, but that one is a given. But also, strangely domestic situations. Like ones where your cooking for him or where he's out farming while you occupy yourself with your little gardening corner. Coming home to see you, all dolled up in your little apron (Maybe nothing more-), welcoming him home with your habitual welcome home kiss.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There's the perfunctory hurting you in any way shape, or form. But, I also think he's heavily against degrading. Any name is either followed by or started with a 'My' or some sort of praise. It has to be evened out in some sort of way to him. He refuses to let it happen otherwise. It just makes something in him shrivel up and cringe in disgust at himself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly, prefers receiving. He loves giving, don't get him wrong, but something about seeing his lover before him, on their knees, with lashes soaked in tears as they struggle to take him? Makes his entire body just buzz in euphoric anticipation.

He's also loves giving too. And he's good at it. He loves teasing them with movements just firm enough to be felt, but nothing concrete enough to get them anywhere. Keeping them right on that brink.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like most of them, depends on his mood. But his favorite? Rough and Slow. Making sure he has every single one of his lover's reactions catalogued and that every future one is predicted before it even happens. If their close, he's ensuring his pace slows just enough. His tempo is steady but just enough to keep them at a buzz instead of the glorious wave of euphoria until he is damn well good and ready.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's open to them. Not his favorite, but when your on the road, sometimes you just gotta take what you can get. Maybe he's fingering you in the dead of night and hoping that you can stay quiet enough to not wake anyone. Maybe he's throwing a blanket over your lap and keeping you seated right where he wants you on his cock. Maybe he's letting you suck him off behind a tree while the boys are doing laundry or something.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's a little into risks. Part of the brat-taming and semi public sex. It just gives him that rush of adrenaline that keeps him buzzing. It's nothing like fighting, where he's constantly watching to save his life, one of the boys' lives, or even your own. No, this is something that he's allowed to relish in and let it run his brain for just a little.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Days, Man has Stamina. He just knows it. He's going until his partner says otherwise. He's always down for pumping load after load into his partner. He's not letting up until the sun is bathing you both in it's perfect rays.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think he owns a few. Silken ropes to bind his lover's hands, maybe a gag or two here or there. A few plugs? Just to keep his darling full just a little longer.

If his darling is being a little extra bratty, he'll pull out the leather bound straps designed to keep them stretched and prone for whatever he deems an appropriate punishment.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The worst. The absolute Worst. He is the biggest tease especially when it comes edging. Like I said prior, he's into edging. And that and teasing just go hand in hand together so well. So, yea, he loves to tease.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not overly loud. He's mainly low grunts and groans, any time he thinks he's gonna break just a little, he's muffling his voice into your shoulder or your neck.

If you really wanna hear him, give him a surprise blowjob first thing in the morning, before he has the chance to hide away behind his mask. He'll give you all the pretty noises your heart desires.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If Reader were to bring up a threesome between them and Malon, he would probably do it, if only to see them happy. He has no interest in sharing, but if that's what his darling wants, then that's what it shall be.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

PACKING HEAT-

He's got the girth and the length for a man of his stature. Thick and long, eight inches, eight and a half when hard, with a gorgeous head, redder than his skin tone. Littered with sensitive veins too. Also uncircumcised.

And I know I mentioned this before, but he's got big, heavy balls just full of cum waiting for his lover.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not as high as you would think. It's pretty average, maybe a bit below, but after a super intense situation, I think it's a given he's ready for a romp.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's naturally an insomniac, so he doesn't fall asleep very easily afterwards. No, he instead spends his time watching you sleep, brushing back your hair and soothing over any of the marks he marred your skin with.

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #loz #link x reader #yandere time #yandere lu time x reader #yandere time x reader #lu time #lu time x reader #cindersins