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yourstruly-sephie · 2 years

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍

𝐀 𝐃 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐝 𝐟 𝐮 𝐥 𝐄 𝐧 𝐝

𝟐𝟕𝟕 𝐀𝐂 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Locked within Maegor's Holdfast, Rhaella stood outside her balcony. It was another regular day in her quarters. The sun was out, not too many clouds in the sky, and everything was calm and quiet. This is what all her mornings looked like, but reliving the exact same days over and over again became somewhat a prison to her. One that her brother-husband had cursed her to live out for the remainder of her life.

In her arms, she held a sleeping Viserys. She softly swayed her arms back and forth like the motion of the Blackwater. Viserys was an easy baby to put to sleep, and he did not make much of a fuss. He slept soundly with his small hands holding onto each other. Rhaella smiled fondly at her baby, her small bundle of joy.

Yet, the time she spent with Viserys made her reminiscent of when her other two children were the same age. Rhaegar was a darling for Rhaella. He was a true dragon the moment he was born. He was curious, studious, and caring—the perfect Prince. Then, there was her dearest Nyrella, the moon to her stars. Nyrella was a miracle. Rhaella adored her since she was conceived because throughout her pregnancy, Nyrella would kick from time to time to let her know she was there.

But, her relationship with her eldest two became distant since Aerys started to fall deeper into madness. Her brother-husband made it impossible for her to watch and interact with Rhaegar and Nyrella. She only had a few moments with them from time to time, but she wanted more... she wanted to witness all the moments with them.

Rhaella laid her youngest dragon carefully in the soft silk fabrics of the crib. Viserys moved slightly, but did not wake. Her warm finger grazed softly at her baby's cheek, watching the Prince nuzz to her warmth. Her indigo eyes shined lovingly at how peaceful and beautiful he slept.

Without breaking her attention from Viserys, she spoke to her handmaiden, who stood quiet at the bedpost. "Is Ser Gerold on duty?" There was a firmness to her voice, but there was still a gentleness to her tone.

The handmaiden shook her head, staring at the ground, "No, your Grace. Ser Gerold informed me that he changed his shift to accompany Prince Rhaegar."

"Then who is outside guarding?" The Queen moved away from the crib towards the table of refreshments. She poured herself some sweet Arbor wine.

"Ser Jonothor and Ser Arthur, your Grace," the handmaiden responded quickly.

"Ser Arthur," the Queen's voice trailed, testing the name on her tongue. Rhaella sips her chalice of wine in deep thought. She did not know much of the Kingsguard except that he is a close confidant to her son and spends a fair amount of time with her daughter.

"Bring him in," she commanded. The young handmaiden nodded to her Queen, and hastily did as she was told.

On the other side, Arthur and Jonothor made small talk with one another about their mornings. For Arthur, his morning was unexpected. He planned to accompany Jon and Nyrella at the gardens, but was suddenly called by Ser Barristan that his post had changed. And here he was standing guard outside the Queen's quarters with Jonothor, who had woken up with a terrible headache.

Suddenly, the door opened to one of the Queen's handmaidens. Arthur and Jonothor tilted their heads to greet the girl, and she returned the gesture. "S-Ser Arthur, her Grace asked for you," the young maiden told the Kingsguard.

Arthur glanced at his sworn brother, but Jonothor shrugged, just as confused as he was. The girl opened the door wider for him to come through, and he muttered his gratitude.

His armor clashed against itself as he walked inside the heavily decorated quarters. It was extravagant and filled with riches, but not too bold to the eyes. He wondered if the Queen took the motifs from Old Valyria. Arthur took a few steps before stopping completely. He saw the sleeping Viserys in his crib, and did not want to disturb his sleep with his loud armor or heavy steps.

The Queen was seated down next to the table. Her eyes were already on the Kingsguard. Arthur bowed his head, "Your Grace."

"I heard you are well acquainted with my daughter. Could you tell me where she is at this moment?" Rhaella took another sip of her wine.

"At the gardens, your Grace. She is in the company of Jon Connington," Arthur spoke clearly.

The Queen hummed. "By the alcove that overlooks the sea?"

Arthur slightly tilted his head but he continued to answer the Queen, "Yes, it is where she spends most of her time drawing or painting."

There is a sad but admiring smile plastering over Rhaella. "She still spends her time over there," she muttered to herself. "Can you do me a favor, Ser Athur," she spoke to him again.

"Of course, your Grace," Arthur firmly nodded.

Rhaella stood up from her seat, placing the half-empty chalice of sweet red wine on the table top. "Escort me to the gardens, I want to see my daughter," she commanded.

"Your Grace-"

"I know the consequences, Ser Arthur."

Arthur took a breath. "Of course, your Grace." The Kingsgaurd could not protest further. The Queen had already made up her mind, and it would be futile to change it.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

In the Red Keep's many gardens, specifically hidden away in a secret alcove, Nyrella was not sketching away like she does, but reading a book. Jon peered over the small table, observing how his company's attention was glued permanently on the pages on her lap. She had not made any attempt to make conversation with him, and it made Jon quite bored and annoyed.

"Do you prefer lemon tarts or honey tarts?" Jon asked as he lifted both tarts, one in each hand.

Nyrella hummed. No response.

"Rhaegar said that he plans to go to Summerhall," Jon said further as he placed the trays back on the platter.

Nyrella hummed again, giving no answer.

"You are insufferable and a very bad friend," Jon directed towards her.

Yet, no answer, only a hum.

Having enough of her ignoring him, Jon stood up from his seat and took a few steps in front of Nyrella. He leaned his body forward and tilted his head slightly to capture what she was reading. But, the words were not making any sense to him. So, he snatched the book from her lap.

Nyrella shot up to look at Jon with bewildered eyes. "Rude! Give me back my book!" She protested as she stood up to get the book from the redhead.

Jon raised the book above his head, while he read the cover of the book. He placed his other hand in front of Nyrella, blocking her away. "A History of House Dayne," he read out loud.

Nyrella twisted his arm making Jon wince in pain. This gave her enough time to jump and snatch the book in her arm again. However the damage was done. Jon was roaring with laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. He found everything funny which irritated Nyrella immensely at times.

"What a romantic you are!" Jon bellowed in between his laughs. A few tears escaped his eyes and his face was turning a shade brighter than his hair.

"Be quiet, Jon," she snapped at him, "Someone will hear you." Nyrella was embarrassed to say the least. She hid the book behind her back, and gave Jon an unamused expression.

"This made my day so much better," Jon said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He was calming down from his fit of laughs. "You like him so much that you'll even read about his family's history, when you hate reading," Jon said humorously, thinking himself funny.

"I don't like him," Nyrella grumbled underneath her breath.

"Nyrella, you little tart, are such a blatant liar," Jon grinned widely.

Nyrella rolled her eyes, and sat back down. She grabbed a tart from the platter, and took a bite. "Is it obvious?" She mumbled with a mouthful.

Jon joined her from across the table, "Being a horrible liar or your feelings towards the Sword of the Morning?"

"You know what I'm talking about," her voice became quieter.

"Ah, Arthur, yes. Well, I'm not blind to it nor is Rhaegar. And I don't know about Barristan though. But, your secret is well kept, which is surprising since the Court are vicious serpents."

Nyrella exhaled with relief. Her body slumped over the table with her head burrowed in her arms. "I'm desperate for him," her confession was muffled.

Jon hummed, "Clearly, but I'm quite offended you chose Arthur and not me. I'm a tenfold handsomer than he is, and a better swordsman."

Nyrella lifter her head up with knitted brows, "you're joking right?"

"And you keep offending me," Jon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You don't even like me in that way nor others of my sex," Nyrella laid her chin on her arms.

Jon rolls his eyes, "But that doesn't mean I can't flirt or practice my charm on you."

Nyrella scoffed as she grabbed another tart from the platter. "You can always practice with your silver prince," she smirked, taking a bite.

Jon grabbed a random tart and threw the pastry at Nyrella's head. There was a soft thump before rolling down to the ground. Nyrella quickly sat up, gasping at his audacity. Her finger traveled to the spot the dessert hit her, feeling the crumbly remnants on her hair.

"I do not regret calling you insufferable and a very bad friend," Jon glared.

Nyrella chuckled, "I forget you're childish sometimes. I was only joking, and your secret is safe with me." She zipped and locked her lips, then threw the invisible key behind her.

She looks down at her lap. Gently, she runs her fingers across the old worn-out cover of the book. Her fingers lingered on top of House Dayne's sigil that was embedded on the center. A thought loomed in her mind—if things were different, would she have the chance to marry Arthur? It was a question she asked herself from time to time, but she hardly had the answer to. She was not even confident he returned the feelings.

"I wouldn't continue reading yet," Jon suddenly whispered her way, but was loud enough for her to hear. She gave him a questionable expression, then he pointed to the right with his head, "Arthur is coming this way with your mother."

Nyrella quickly turned her head. Indeed two figures she was not expecting to see this afternoon were steady making their way towards her and Jon. A wave of anxious feeling suddenly washed over her. "Seven hells," she cursed underneath her breath.

She threw the old book towards Jon, which hit his face. He groaned in pain as he held the book, "What was that for!" He whisper-yelled at Nyrella.

"Hush," Nyrella pressed a finger in front of her lips, "I can't be seen with that book."

"Now you're being the ridiculous one," Jon continued to whisper-yell, "you take it!"

"No, Jon, you take it!" Nyrella pushed her hands out blocking his attempt to give it to her.

"Nyrella, stop being difficult, take it!"

"For the Seven Heavens Jon!"

"No, you have —"

"Nyrella, Lord Jon," a feminine voice interrupted their bickering. The two culprits immediately shut their mouths, a silence befallen between them. Their eyes were on the Queen, who stood tall and watched them with a regal and critical eye.

In a heartbeat, Jon was on his feet. He bowed deeply, "Your Grace, It's an honor to be in your acquaintance."

Rhaella smiled fondly at the Lord of Griffin's Roost, "You've grown since the last time I saw you Griff."

"By looks, but I'm afraid, I still act immature for my age," Jon responded, "You have not aged a single day, your Grace. Still very beautiful."

Nyrella fought herself not to vomit the contents of her stomach after hearing Jon's response. Yet, it seemed her mother took the compliment rather well and even smiled wider towards the redhead.

"Nyrella," Rhaella directed her attention to her daughter.

All the attention was on her now. Nyrella stood up from her seat. Her hands lifted her skirt off the ground as she curtsied, "Mother."

Sensing the lack of warmth from Nyrella's end, Jon decided to step up, "Please take a step, your Grace. There are enough refreshments for all of us." He stepped aside from his seat and gestured for the Queen to take.

However, Rhaella waved her hand to decline the generous offer, "I came here to fetch Nyrella to walk with me around the garden."

"I'm quite busy," Nyrella responded to Rhaella.

"I'm sure you have time to spare for me, and Griff could accompany us as well," Rhaella countered with a firm look from her.

Nyrella stared at her mother for a while, before sighing deeply, "Okay."

Rhaella wore a sad smile at the lack of enthusiasm from her daughter. She held her hand out towards her which Nyrella carefully took. Soon, the mother and daughter started their stroll around the garden.

Jon came to Arthur's side as they walked behind the Targaryen pair. "Fancy seeing you here," Jon nudged the other's arm.

"What were you two bickering about?" Arthur inquired as he peered over his shoulder to glance back at the table where the book was.

"Oh nothing," Jon shook his head and pushed the Kingsguard slightly forward. A grin formed in his lips to reassure his friend to continue walking.

Arthur knew something was going on, but decided to ignore it for now. However, one thing on his mind that he needed answers to was Nyrella and her mother. The small interactions between them were not what he had in mind at all. He was staring too intently at the duo that Jon mustered the realization.

"It's difficult between them," Jon revealed to Arthur. He did not have to be asked the question, Jon knew that Arthur was curious and he did not blame him. "Love can strengthen bonds or weaken some," he added sadly.

Arthur understood but still was not able to connect the dots, "I cannot see a reason why it would weaken their bond." His eyes dart between the two females who share similar characteristics with one another.

"I don't know how to explain it," Jon took a deep breath. "I'm more than happy to explain—" he pointed between the two, "this, but it's not my story to tell."

Arthur hummed softly. "You think she'll tell me?"

"You are one of her closest friends, obviously next to me, but I have no doubt she will tell you," Jon gave his friend an assuring pat behind his shoulders.

While the two men fell into a comfortable step behind the Targaryen women and found themselves in conversation, the same thing could not be said about the two Targaryen women. There was an unsaid tension between Nyrella and Rhaella, one that made it unbearable to breathe or think with a calm mind. Especially for Nyrella, her body heat was higher, her hands formed into fists, and her ears were buzzing. In the thick silence, she had conflicting emotions fighting to rise up from the others.

"It's a beautiful day is it not?" A voice pierced through the uncharted territory.

Nyrella hugged herself and turned her body away from the woman next to her, more than she already was. "I've seen better days," she responded with a slight bite.

Rhaella sighed as she rubbed her hands anxiously. "I heard that you and Rhaegar went to The Hook. How was it? Was it like the times we went before?"

"Can we be quiet for the rest of the walk," Nyrella stated harshly, throwing her mother a side glare, "I rather prefer the silence."

There was a pause. Rhaella understood her daughter's hostile behavior because she went through it herself with her own mother. "Nyrella—" she exhaled. "I'm trying. You must understand that I'm trying," her response felt more like a plea, a plea for forgiveness.

"You didn't try before."

Rhaella's heart pinged at the words. This time Nyrella's response was not aggressive but filled with sorrow and sadness. Rhaella softened her eyes on her daughter, moving slightly towards her. Her fingers gently pushed a strand of hair behind Nyrella's ear. Nyrella didn't make a move to push her away or praise her.

"I'm sorry," Rhaella said under her breath, enough for only Nyrella to hear. "You do not have to forgive me or talk to me, but please let me try to be better. We can continue to be silent for the remainder of the walk, if you prefer."

Nyrella turned her head further away from her mother. Her gaze was glossy as she looked at the flora. She felt the brim of her eyes fill up with tears, threatening to fall. She tightened her arms around herself and dogged her fingernails into her flesh, a mechanism to keep her from losing her emotions.

Taking her silence as an answer, Rhaella returned the distance between her and Nyrella. There was a lump in her throat as she fought the urge to cry. It was painful but through the years, she learned to deal with it.

"If I tell you about The Hook—" Nyrella spoke up, "—you need to go back to Maegor's Holdfast."

Rhaella frowned. A piece of her heart broke and mended at Nyrella's offer. Bittersweet. "I understand," she said. In her mind, going back to the hellhole her brother-husband put her in was worth spending a minuscule amount of time with her daughter.

Nyrella cleared her throat, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "Rhaegar and I weren't the only ones that went to the Hook. Jon, Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur went as well. Arthur and I strolled around, and found some things. Then, later we saw Rhaegar playing for the crowd and he made me sing."

Nyrella paused. "After that, Arthur, he—he bought me flowers. Purple lilacs. It was a gift because I sang so well, but I don't believe him. I—"

"I'm glad Ser Arthur treated you well," Rhaella added.

Nyrella snapped her head towards her mother. She didn't even notice that she rambled too much and said too much of what happened. "He is only doing his duty," Nyrella spilled out, covering any hints of fondness. But she could not ignore how the words pierced her heart painfully. "What he has done is nothing more than duty and chivalry," she repeated dejectedly.

"Duty above all," Rhaella said all too well.

Nyrella looked at the ground. She swallowed the hard truth down, "duty above all."

"Nyrella," Rhaella breathed out, "you can talk to me, if you need someone to talk to. I might not have been the best mother, but I will always be your mother."

"I've said too much to you already. All I need you to do now is go back to Maegor's Holdfast before the consequences become severe," Nyrella's tone became sharper like a dagger that has been put through a whetstone .

"I—"

"No, mother," Nyrella snapped. "Go back now."

Rhaella swallowed the tightness in her throat. She closed her eyes, taking a deep inhale of the air around her, and she nodded. "I'm unafraid of the consequences," she opened her eyes again.

The queen stopped in her tracks which made Jon and Arthur stop immediately, but Nyrella continued on for a few more steps before stopping. Rhaella turned to Arthur with a well-crafted smile, hiding any remnants of hurt. "I would like to go back to my quarters now, Ser Arthur," her voice breezed through like the warm air.

Arthur quickly glanced at Nyrella's direction, whose back is turned away. His gaze lingered on her for a few seconds, wishing she would turn around and say something. Not to him but her mother. "Ser Arthur, is something the matter?" He didn't realize he was lingering a little too long.

"No, your Grace. I will escort you back to your quarters," he averted his eyes on the older woman, who wore a kind smile. He couldn't help but make the resemblance between her and Nyrella. Both are equal in beauty.

Arthur offered his arm, yet Rhaella shook her head and feet remained cemented on the ground. "Before we go...I think Nyrella would want to see you," she told him.

The Kingsguard was hesitant to move from his spot. He glanced back at Nyrella, wondering if she could hear their conversation. "It's okay," Rhaella encouraged as she stepped aside.

Arthur's lips twitched slightly upwards, giving a curt nod at the Queen's direction. He took his heavy steps in strides, taking only a few to reach Nyrella's front.

Nyrella moved her head upwards to meet Arthur's gaze. The bright glare of the sun usually made her squint, but because of Arthur's tall stature and thick silver armor, the sun ceased to blind her. Under the shade, she saw his face fully. However, she didn't know whether to smile at him or frown. He wore an expression she never saw before. His eyes were casted down, his eyebrows were lower on his face, and his lips were in a sealed line—disappointment. But why?

"I wish I had more time to speak with you," the low octave of his voice vibrated through the air.

"And we will," she assured him. Nyrella tried to touch Arthur's arm, but at the last second he shifted away from her.

"Why must you be so indifferent to your mother?" He confided his true emotion to her.

Nyrella took Arthur's words harshly, even if he did not mean to. She clenched her teeth and her arms wrapped around her securely, "This is not the time to be asking questions like that."

Arthur pursed his lips, "I do not mean to offend you in any way, but I saw—"

"Nothing," she declared. "What you saw is nothing, and it should stay that way."

"All I'm trying to say—"

"You said it yourself, there is no time to speak."

Arthur exhaled defeatedly. "Then, I will take my leave."

"Please do, I'm not stopping you," Nyrella answered with a gaze sharp like glass.

Arthur hummed and bowed his head. He turned his body away from Nyrella, leaving her under the hot blaze of the sun. A gust of wind passed Nyrella as he walked away, his comforting presence was replaced with a cold spot next to her. She dug her nails into the flesh of her arms as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Guilt boiled at the pit of stomach, aching painfully to the exchange she had with her mother and Arthur. But she tried her hardest to push away those feelings, making a decision that she would simply ignore the people she hurt.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Days and days went by since the day at the garden. Nyrella did what she promised herself, which was to ignore a certain Kingsguard. She did this by locking herself most of the time inside the comforts of her quarters. It was not the most intelligent move on her part, but it certainly filtered out the interactions she had. The first few days were fine. Yet, as the week progressed into another week, the emotions she suppressed started to eat at her, until it became the only thing she thought about night and day.

Her thoughts were ravaged by questions that stormed in her mind. What went wrong? Is Arthur to blame or was I? What will happen to us? Was I too hard on my mother? If I show my face, will he ignore me as well? Why do I feel like this? On top of that, her mind conjured depressing consequences that could possibly play out in reality if she were to go out of her quarters. Sometimes they were so overwhelming that it brought her to tears.

Then, it led to her speaking with Alora. The older woman was glad to listen to the young girl's sorrows, keeping a reassuring smile and encouraging words for Nyrella to continue her story when it became difficult. Afterwards when the full story was recited, Alora advised the teary-eyed princess to confront the truth by talking to the ones she has hurt. Alora knew it was hard to admit when you were in the wrong, but it was the only way to fix things and grow to be better.

Nyrella took Alora's wise words to heart, knowing she needed to make amends with Arthur and especially with her mother. And today, she took the first step by leaving her quarters.

The Princess stood at the courtyard with Ser Jonothor by her side. The pair were seeing Ser Barristan off, since the older Kingsguard was going to Duskendale to meet with Lord Tywin. Nyrella stood quietly as she observed Jonothor and Barristan's interaction. Jonothor gave final words which made Barristan pat the younger Kingsgaurd on the arm, a gesture to comfort the worrisome sworn brother.

"Do not shed any tears for me, your Grace," Barristan amused in order to keep his departure from being sorrowful.

"How many times should I lecture not—"

"To keep calling you, your Grace. I think more than I can count," the corner of his lips tugged upwards forming a reassuring smile.

Nyrella chuckled into a cheery grin, "I cannot promise you that I won't shed any tears for you, Barristan. You are a true friend, and the world will be a sadder place if you were to pass."

"It is my duty. I sworn my life to protect the Crown, your father, and this means that death will always be lingering close. I'm not afraid, and you should not be either," he spoke, hoping his answer would find its way to reassure her.

Nyrella averted her eyes towards her fidgeting hands, moving her head up and down in understanding. "There are no truer words" it was a mere whisper.

Duty. It was not the first time nor the last time she would hear that word. She hated it. It binds people like Barristan...Arthur....herself, to simple words that mean nothing, yet mean, everything.

"I hope we are not too late," a pair of feet ran down the flight of stone steps.

Barristan turned to the new company, bowing his head quickly before coming back up to give a welcoming gleam. "Not at all, Rhaegar. I'm exchanging a few words with your sister," his dominant hand gestured to the other Targaryen sibling.

"Please continue, I didn't mean to disturb," Rhaegar signaled to Barristan.

Nyrella waved her hand in the air, "No need. I said everything I needed to say to Barristan." She turned around to face the trio.

Her eyes saw Barristan, then guided over to Rhaegar, and lastly, inched their way to Arthur. He was not looking at her. She glanced away quickly, realizing the situation she was in. "I shall take my leave now. May the gods keep you safe, Barristan. I will keep you in my thoughts," she spoke to Barristan. He answered with a simple nod.

Rhaegar took a step towards her, but she quickly pivoted on her heels and walked the opposite direction, away from the duo. She walked feverishly through the halls of the Red Keep that it felt as if she was gliding through the marble flooring. The halls were empty except for the heavy armored steps of Ser Jonothor trying to trail after her. She did not know where she was going as long as she knew she was far away from the courtyard.

"Your Grace," Ser Jonothor muttered breathy, trying to catch a breath. "Please stop," there was a warning in his words.

Nyrella listened. She stopped and snapped to turn to the Kingsguard with a questionable look, "Stop?"

Jonothor was thankful. His hands were on his knees as he hunched forward, trying to take deep breaths. He held his hand up to her, "We—we—are..."

"We are?" Nyrella furrowed her brows concerned for him. She took a step forward, tilting her head low to see a glance of his face.

"Go—going—in circles," he managed to say coherently.

"Going in circles?" Nyrella repeated as blinked a few times in confusion. She averted her eyes away from Jonothor to her surroundings. On her right were the stained glass windows, and to her left are brick walls with candle stands. She then looked down at the very ends on both sides, finding them familiar.

"No..." the realization hits her. In her feverish temper, she failed to have a sense of direction. Color depleted from her complexion, a sudden sickness.

"Nyrella!" Rhaegar's voice bounced against the walls of the hall, eoching loudly. Jonothor and Nyrella turned their heads to see the Prince of Dragonstone and The Sword of the Morning at the front end of the hallway, not far from where they were standing.

And it took no time for each pair to be next to one another. "Are you well, Ny?" Rhaegar inquired. It was not difficult to notice his sister's sudden change in behavior the last few days. He heard about her encounter with their mother from Jon. Wondering if that was the reason for her avoidance.

"Yes, I am well," Nyrella tugged the corners of her lips to smile. "Are you?" Upon closer observation, she noticed the purple bags under Rhaegar's eyes. His skin was a sickly pale color. His silver-blonde hair lacked its usual shine, it was more dull and dry. And he looked deprived of any food, he was skinnier than she last saw him.

"I am alright," he simply responded to her. She nodded her head. There was a silence that befell. Nyrella found her gaze wandering to where Arthur stood. Her eyes lingered on his armored breastplate of the three-headed dragon, then slowly made their way up to his face. She didn't meet his eyes like she usually found herself. He didn't want to meet her eyes. His gaze was glued to the ground, only actively listening to his surroundings. It made Nyrella more guilty of the way she treated him.

"Nyrella," Rhaegar called her again. She averted her eyes from Arthur and back to her brother.

"I know you aren't here to discuss pleasantries with me, Reg. Why are you here?" She was back to fidgeting her fingers.

"I must speak with you in private," he whispered. Nyrella furrowed her eyebrows, picking the sense of urgency in his voice.

"We are in private," she gestured around the hall, "you can tell me here."

"No," Rhaegar deadplanned. "Not here, too many ears. We need to speak somewhere else."

"Alright. Do you have anywhere in mind?"

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Nyrella did not expect for Rhaegar's answer to be—the beach. The wet sand crunched underneath her boots. The tide was low, making walking along the sand easier and flexible. The sun was high above the sky, but was covered by thick clouds, adding a gloominess to the scene. Seagulls flew overhead as they squawked annoyingly to their kin. Nyrella tried not to linger underneath one of the birds, fearing it would defecate on her blue gown.

Rhaegar, Nyrella, and Arthur were in each other's company while Ser Jonothor took his position at the entrance of the beach. The Targaryen siblings were at the forefront, walking beside each other with identical steps. Arthur, on the other hand, was closely behind the duo, keeping an exact three steps distance.

There were attempts of conversation between the three, but it would soon meet a short faith of silence. It irritated Rhaegar immensely since he was the one starting the conversations. Arthur gave short answers of yes or no, while his sister picked and chose which conversation she would answer too. It did not take long for Rhaegar to put two and two together to realize that Arthur and Nyrella were not on equal fronts.

"I heard mother came to visit you at the garden," Rhaegar said. His hands were behind his back, while he kept his eyeline in front of him, looking into the distance.

Nyrella's shoulder shrugged, "Jon told you."

"How was she?" His head slowly turned towards her. The tone of his voice held a melancholic tune—sad and soft.

"As always."

"As always is not an answer."

Rhaegar sighed. He lifted his right hand from the back, extending over to lay his hand on top of Nyrella's fidgeting hands. Nyrella blinked a few times before slowly meeting his gaze.

"What do you want me to say, Rhaegar? You see mother more than I do, so you would know how she is," Her words bit him like a dragon's bite. Her stare was solid, not blinking once as she spoke.

Rhaegar closed his eyes for a second, squeezing his sister's hand slightly firmer. "I only wanted to have a pleasant conversation with you before..." his voice trailed off as well as his eye contact with her's.

Nyrella shook her head, "anything but mother. We can have a pleasant conversation, but please do not bring up mother... I feel guilty as it is." Her last few words were barely a whisper underneath her breath. Rhaegar wondered if he heard her right, but did not question further to avoid another round of her sharp words.

"What would you like to talk about then? What is pleasant to your ears?" He dropped his hand that laid on top of her own to his side.

Nyrella went back to fidgeting with her hands, "Can you just tell me?"

Rhaegar tilted his head, "Tell you what?"

"Why did you ask to speak with me in private?"

"Okay."

Nyrella snapped her eyes at Rhaegar. The tone of his voice changed with that one word. It sounded dreadful, miserable, and sad. It sounded like the world had crashed down on him and the consequences were too severe to heal from. It did not help seeing how dark and purple his eye bags were as if had not slept for months. His skin was paler than her own, and she could tell he was not eating well enough as he should.

"Do you think I would make a good King, Ny?" His voice riches through her eardrums. His gaunt face looked back at her.

Nyrella was the one to tilt her head, "Of course, you would. The people love and admire you—lords, ladies, knights, commonfolk alike. You have the best interest for the realm."

Rhaegar hummed, conflicted on how to proceed. "Right. The reason why I asked to speak you is on matters, the Small Council and I have discussed," he exhaled steadily.

"Which are?" Nyrella's eyebrows were knitted in confusion. Rhaegar never involved her in politics, which extends to discussions in the Small Council. The whole conversation is odd, and she cannot help but feel discomfort where she stood.

"Crops are failing, Ny. Many farmers in the Crownlands are in debt and losing their livelihood. Poverty in the streets is growing each day due to the shortage in food. The Small Council fears a famine is upon us. It is made worse since our father is held prisoner," Rhaegar unfolded without skipping a beat or a shaky breath.

"Certainly there is a solution to this? Maybe lend some money to the farmers? Or give them more fertile land?" Nyrella offered any solutions she could think of on the top of her mind, but everything she said felt too naive in her ears.

"It's not that easy," the older Targaryen responded drily.

"Maybe we could start by asking what the farmers need? Give them resources to start again. I am sure any help they can get will be—"

"You need to marry."

Rhaegar's voice was firm, cutting through her words like butter and falling out of her mouth like dead flies. Nyrella had stopped walking. Her feet were glued to the damp sand. Her body was still except for her chest, rising up and down with every breath.

"Marry?" Her voice croaked—dry and tight.

Rhaegar casted his eyes down for a second before meeting with her lavender eyes, "Yes. You must marry." He repeated the words again.

"I-I—"

"The Small Council and I believe it to be the best solution." Rhaegar extended his hand to touch Nyrella's cheek, but she took a step back.

"You can't marry me off! I am not marrying anyone!" She raised her voice at him.

"We have not decided who you are to marry, Nyrella. Not yet, anyways," Rhaegar's voice slightly raised.

"Like that makes me feel any better," she spat. "I am not some prized cattle for you to sell me off to fix a problem!"

"At least it fixes a problem! Hear yourself Nyrella! Do you really want revolts at the steps of the Red Keep! Or people dying left and right hungry because you would not marry!! As you said earlier, I only have the best interest for the realm and its people! This is a small price to pay!" Rhaegar threw his hands in the hand as the frustration seethed off him. He turned around away from Nyrella, trying to calm himself. He's been planning to tell her this for awhile, and planned accordingly so it would not explode. But, no matter how much planning, destiny always played out of his favor.

Nyrella stayed quiet after Rhaegar's outburst. Her hands were folded in front of her, not having the will to fidget with her fingers or move at all. Rhaegar rarely yelled or shouted at her. Yet, when it did happen. It felt like the world was crumbling underneath her and it was harder to breathe. It was worse now since the feeling appended to the prior emotions she already felt.

Arthur was quiet the whole time ever since Rhaegar and Nyrella were talking. He did not pay any attention to the conversation until it shifted to the topic of the Small Council and the failing crops. Even then, he tried not to eavesdrop due to the confidentiality of the matters. However, the moment Rhaegar had dropped the piece of information that Nyrella needed to marry, he could stop himself from listening. The shocking news was new to his ears and had smacked him hard across the face in shock. Rhaegar never told him, much less hinted, that he planned this. Arthur wondered how long Rhaegar kept this secret of his.

His violet eyes were on Nyrella. She was quiet, still, and looked incredibly out of place. Her head hung low and her shoulders dropped, making her look smaller in frame. He was afraid the ocean's wind would blow her away, that was how fragile she appeared. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. Tell her that everything would be okay. He wanted to bring her anywhere but here. Yet, he was grounded to the sand, not having enough willpower to move. He was not sure if she wanted his comfort or sympathies.

There was a sigh. Nyrella and Arthur lifted their gaze to focus on the Dragon Prince. Rhaegar turned around, calmer than before. His face was tired, sad, and stressed. He took a couple of steps towards Nyrella, stopping a foot or two from her. "The Small Council wanted to name a betrothal... but I knew you would hate me forever if I let that happen. So, I made my plea for you to choose," Rhaegar paused, swallowing a lump in his throat, "the Small Council and I compromised for you to be sent away in a Royal Progress to announce your eligibility to marry."

Nyrella blinked away her watery eyes, "you are me away as well?"

Rhaegar nodded, "as soon as The Defiance is taken care of."

She fought the urge to let out a scream. "And if I-I do not find someone to marry?"

"You know what happens," Rhaegar said solemnly, a frown spread across his face.

Nyrella closed her eyes. A tear escaped, falling down on her rosy cheeks. She took a deep inhale and exhaled before she opened her eyes again. "Stay away from me, Rhaegar. I do not want to see your face," Nyrella admitted. Her face was stone cold, she refused to meet his eyes.

Rhaegar had no words, nodding at her that he understood. Nyrella pivoted on her feet, and continued to walk along the beach alone. Rhaegar and Arthur stood in their spots until the sound of her steps became distant and only the sound of seagulls above were the only thing to be heard. Rhaegar sighed heavily. He turned on his feet to walk the other direction of where Nyrella went. He was needed back at the Red Keep, no matter how broken or tired he was, he had duties to attend too.

However, just as he was about to pass Arthur, the Kingsgaurd grabbed his upper arm stopping him from walking off. The two stared at each other for a minute, their purple eyes colliding in disagreement.

"How long were you planning this?" Arthur inquired with displeasement.

Rhaegar ripped his arm from Arthur's grip, "This is not the time, Arthur. I need to get back to the Red Keep."

He tried to continue his journey, but Arthur extended his arm out to block him from walking. His state was serious, holding no warmth or amusement. "Answer me, Rhaegar. How long did you pl—"

"Months," Rhaegar confessed.

"Does Jon know?"

"Only the Small Council and I knew for months, then you and Nyrella. Other than that, no one knows."

Rhaegar tried to walk, but Arthur pushed him back. He was not finished talking to him.

"How come you never told me you were planning this?" Arthur inquired harsher than he expected too.

Rhaegar let out an amused breath. He pushed Arthur's arm away from him, not happy that he was being interrogated by his friend. "Because it does not concern you," Rhaegar answered. He walked off, bumping into Arthur's shoulder as he did.

Arthur's hand tightened around the hilt of Dawn, feeling angry and annoyed with Rhaegar. "It does concern me," Arthur announced, turning to Rhaegar's direction, "I care for Nyrella."

Rhaegar stopped in his tracks, he turned to face Arthur. He walked back to him until they were face to face with a feet of distance between them. Rhaegar dogged his index finger into Arthur's steel chest, "This is the reason why I did not tell you. I see the way you speak to my sister, the way you interact with her, the way you look at her. You love her."

Arthur kept quiet. Rhaegar continued on.

"And by the gods, she loves you too," Rhaegar confessed. "I have watched you two. You and Nyrella are meant to be. But, you are a Kingsguard and she is a Princess. You two can love, but you two can never be together. If I told you before I told Nyrella, I know you would have made your fondness known to her and she would refuse to marry anyone else because she loves you. If things were different, I would have you and Nyrella be together. However, I cannot let that happen because there is so much at risk."

"She loves me..." Arthur muttered to himself.

"Arthur, you must not make your affections known to her. You swore a vow, and you must honor it. You need to bury those feelings. Do not let love blind you. If you love her as you say... you need to let her go," Rhaegar sighed sadly.

"One day, Rhaegar, you will understand the pain of loving someone you are not meant to love," Arthur spoke.

Rhaegar nodded and hummed, understanding the warning in Arthur's voice. "One day, Arthur," he dropped his index from Arthur's chest. He straightened up, clearing his voice, "Go with Nyrella. It might be one of the last times you two will be together until she leaves. It is the least I can do."

With that, Rhaegar turned around and walked away towards the pathway back to the Red Keep. Arthur stood alone in the middle of the beach with his thoughts. He should be happy to know that the girl he loves, loves him back. Yet, knowing that he cannot tell her that he loves her or love her the way he wanted to, was a knife to the heart.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Nyrella had been walking alone for some time. The sun was covered with dark gray skies, threatening to pour rain any minute now. She did not care if it did. The nice breeze became stronger and colder, making her shiver in her light attire. She wore a dark navy gown made mostly of fine silk. The sides of her bodice were ruched, while the front pulled together to create a bow at her collarbone. The sleeves of the gown were sheer, exposing her shoulders and part of her back. The skirt started from her natural waist and ended to the ground, dragging slightly at the ground. She wished she brought a shawl to warm her against the cold temperatures.

Her eyes stared out into the blue dark ocean as many things flashed in her mind. How did everything escalate so fast? She wiped a stray tear and inhaled to prevent her nose from running.

Then, from a distance, she heard unnatural sounds, distinct from the noises of the tides rolling in or the wildlife around her. At first, the sound was faint, however each step she took, it became louder and more familiar. She wrapped her arms around herself securely, knowing fully well what the sound was—incoming footsteps.

"Nyrella..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he finally caught up to her. He ran after her, trying to catch his breath.

Nyrella ignored him, continuing to walk by herself. Arthur exhaled loudly, groaning slightly at her stubbornness. He jogged a little more until he was beside her and their pace was in sync. It was silent between them except for the comfortable crunch of sand underneath their feet.

Arthur watched her. He watched as she faced away from him, staring off straight into the faraway reach of the ocean's horizon. He did not see any area of her face, wondering what expression she was holding. Strands of her silver hair flew wildly reacting to the constant change of the wind. He noticed how her arms instinctively reacted to the sudden gust of coldness by wrapping around her body tighter. The gown she wore complimented her well, but it was not suitable for current conditions.

He quickly unbuckled the straps on his shoulders, where his white cloak was securely attached. He gripped the thick fabric, yanking it off with one pull. Arthur took a few steps closer to Nyrella. Then, he gently placed his white cloak over her shoulders.

Nyrella snapped her head at him, but she was not expecting how close Arthur was to her face. "Wh—"

"You're shivering," Arthur replied, knowing what she was going to ask. He moved the side of the cloak so that it would cover her entirely.

Nyrella nodded, unfolding her arms to hold onto the cloak. It was big on her, and it smelled like him. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Arthur straightened up, putting a distance back between them. He wanted so badly to talk to her, to know what she was thinking. It broke him, seeing how her gaze was down casted with a looming storm in her eyes of lavender fields. Her beautiful heart-shaped lips that always wore a joyful smile was now a frown. Her cheeks were glistening by the remnants of tear stains, while the tip of her nose was red and irritated.

"I am sorry Arthur," she broke the deafening silence. Her voice was hoarse and dry, but it was still honey to Arthur's ears.

"You do not have to apologize for anything, Nyrella," Arthur reassured her.

Nyrella shook her head, feeling another wave of unchecked emotions rallying up to escape. She turned her head to face him, and met his violet gaze. "No, Arthur, I do. I was mean to you when you were trying to be a friend. You had every right to ignore me, I acted terribly. I am so sorry," she inhaled her stuffy nose and blinked away her glossy vision.

"All is forgiven," he smiled at her, pushing a strand away from her face. "I am sorry as well about bringing up your mother. I know it is difficult for you to talk about her."

Nyrella wrapped the cloak around her tighter as another round of cold air passed them. "I owe you an explanation," her eyes soften at him.

"No, you do not have too. I do not want to put you in more pain than you are," he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and spoke gently.

"I will be okay, Arthur," she weakly smiled at him. She shifted further into the warmth of the cloak, she felt safe coddled into the faint fabric and even more so having only Arthur with her. She took another breath and exhaled to prepare herself.

“I was attached to my mother by the hip for the first few years of my life. We did everything together and even now, I think about those moments and cherish them with love. However, when my mother was ordered into confinement…that is when she started to change. She pushed me away by refusing my visits to see her, burning the paintings I gifted her, blaming me for her unhappiness, and favored Rhaegar in everything. My own mother became a stranger. I tried for years to get any type of attention or affection from her, but she shut me out. I was tired of hurting, so I stopped. At ten-namedays, I swore to myself that it was better to be strangers with my parents than to feel a constant aching pain in my chest.”

“However, just as I promised myself, my mother started to open up to me. She tried to reach out and apologize for her mistreatment over the years. It tore me to shreds because the affection I wanted for years was there– an arm’s length away. But I tell myself, why now? I could not deal with the pain of losing my mother’s love if I accepted, so I closed her off, not wanting anything to do with her. There are circumstances that made us interact, but I never let her close enough to hurt me again.”

Arthur was at a loss for words, not expecting such a story. “Nyrella, I—“

“I know, Arthur. You do not have to apologize or regret anything. I love my mother. I do. I understand that she is very sorry, and she will have to deal with the guilt of inflicting such pain. But I am, also, guilty for pushing her away when she tries to make amends. It will get better, we are healing.” She assessed him with a small smile.

"I appreciate you trust me enough to share this with me," Arthur responded, mirroring an encouraging smile.

"Of course," she uttered, "I trust you with my whole heart."

"I share the same sentiment," Arthur responded after her.

There was silence behind them. It was a comfortable silence as they stared into their eyes. They found comfort in their presence that they never could mimic with anyone else.

"I am sorry about what happened today with Rhaegar and the news," Arthur changed the subject, knowing that Nyrella did not want to stay on the topic of her mother or past.

"You apologize too much, ser," Nyrella shook her head in amusement. "Let us not be sad. I do not want our last moments alone to be grim or filled with sorrow. Even if we have to pretend, I just do not want to waste anymore tears on things beyond my control."

"If that is your wish, then we shall be happy," Arthur smiled.

"Thank you," she smiled back.

"I am going to miss you," he found himself saying.

Nyrella extended her hand out of the cloak, and intertwined her's with Arthur's hand. "Me too," her smile grew bigger and shined brighter, clearing up the gloominess of the atmosphere.

Arthur did not care how unexpected her action was. All he could think of was how small, warm, and soft her hand was compared to his. He tightened his hand with his, not letting her go.

It tore him inside that he will never get to tell Nyrella that he loves her. It was unfair. Yet, if she could wear a smile, even when times were tough. Then, he can too.

He wondered how he could be so lucky to be in her life. Nyrella is strong for putting up with her parents' faulty actions and receiving terrible news. She has shown compassion and understanding. She tries to find happiness. She is, to him, an incredible person, inside and out—the love of his life.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

A month breezed over since that fateful day on the beach. Unfortunately, a month was not enough to reconcile the strained relationship between Rhaegar and Nyrella, despite the great efforts of Jon and Arthur for them to make amends. Adding salt to the wound, the announcement of Nyrella's eligibility to marry became widespread throughout the Seven Kingdoms. It was the only information that every lord, lady, and even common folk discussed among each other. That was until the world-shattering news that the Defiance of Duskendale was over.

No one could believe the Defiance of Duskendale would last half a year. The Lord Darklyn held on, thinking it was only a matter of time before better advantageous offers were made. However, losing patience outside the city gates, Tywin Lannister refused to bend his terms. He heeded his final warnings to the foolish lord: the refusal to surrender the King will result in the sacking of Duskendale and no mercy shall be shown to any man, woman, or child. There was no doubt if this was executed, the King's life would be added to the casualties—not that Tywin really cared.

Yet, Ser Barristan the Bold, honorable and brave, volunteered himself to single-handedly rescue the imprisoned Aerys. Not one to decline a valorous act, Lord Tywin irritably granted one night to the Kingsguard in order to infiltrate the city and fulfill the rescue. However, if the Kingsguard failed his mission, the sacking of Duskendale will commence.

Impressive as his name was, Ser Barristan scaled the city wall with bare hands at the dead of night. He disguised himself as a common beggar on the streets, evading suspicion from the townsfolk and guards. Eventually he reached Dun Fort, the seat of House Darklyn, he scaled the walls and quickly unarmed and disposed of the castle guards. Gifted with determination and sheer luck, Ser Barristan was able to rescue King Aerys before the night drew out.

However, the Kingsguard did not leave unscathed when he avenged his fallen Kingsguard brother by slaining Ser Symon. An arrow struck him in the chest as he attempted to escape. Barristan swallowed the pain, focusing on the delicate task of bringing the King into the bounds of safety. Through blood and pure determination, Barristan's name was further shrouded with enormous praise and respect for completely a seemingly impossible task.

The innocent lives of the people behind the walls of Duskendale were exempted from a cruel sacking. However, the noble Houses of Darklyn and Holland had to pay the price for their tyranny.

After the King's rescue, Denys Darklyn was left without a hostage to bargain. The unfortunate Lord surrendered and begged on his knees for mercy. There was no mercy left within the crazed gaze of the Mad King, only a terrible vengeance and raging wrath. With a wave of his hand, King Aerys condemned Lord Darklyn and any kin bearing his name (including House Hollard) to death. However the most brutal attack was inflicted towards Lord Darklyn's Myrish wife, Lady Serala. Her punishment was gruesome as her tongue and womanly parts were torn from her body before she was burned alive.

However, there was an exception to the massacre: Dontos Hollard. He was a young boy, vouched for by Ser Barristan, to have his life spared. In debt for his life, King Aerys was unable to refuse the offer and granted the Kingsguard's wish begrudgingly. As the Lord Darklyn and the rest of his House were killed off, Aerys appointed House Rykker ownership of the lands. However, the bits of Aerys' sanity died in Duskendale as he left. He will never be the same.

"Choose your words carefully," Rhaegar whispered into Nyrella's ear. The eldest Targaryen siblings stood on the steps of the entrance, awaiting their father's anticipated arrival. The atmosphere was tense and anxious as the attendees expected the worst outcome to unfold.

"Not like I haven't thought of that," Nyrella nudged her elbow to his side. Rhaegar groaned at the pain, throwing her a glare.

"If your plan this whole time was to take my arm off, you are doing an excellent duty at it," Jon hinted as he tried to shake off Nyrella's death grip.

"My bad," Nyrella threw him a sheepish smile before quickly loosening her hold on his arm.

Jon chuckled, "It is alright. I could always drink one of Maester Pycelle's formulated concoctions to regrow an arm."

Nyrella rolled her eyes at Jon's amusement. She nudged her elbow to his side to grab his attention. "I would not recommend doing such a thing. You might be ingesting wildfire if you aren't careful."

"I'm sure I'm fine. Wildfire is a Targaryen trait," Jon nudged back playfully.

But Nyrella did not find his response to be amusing, not when she stood at the courtyard waiting for her mad father. Jon caught on. He laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"A grim thought isn't it," he offered her a small smile.

"Do you really think he's gone mad? People talk and-and—"

"They are only rumors, dramaticized for attention."

"You aren't worried even in the slightest?"

"I never said that. I am worried, but you should never trust any rumors that float around in court."

Nyrella hummed as she observed her surroundings. Most of the court were present, standing on the sidelines with their own coterie, sharing the same alliances. Yet, oddly enough, everyone shared the same atmosphere—tense and anxious, expecting the worst outcome to unfold.

"Have you talked to Rhaegar?" The auburn haired lord inquired as he focused on the other side of the courtyard, where the Prince of Dragonstone and Sword of the Morning stood in anticipation.

Nyrella followed his gaze, watching how the two figures were in deep conversation and not occupying themselves with whatever is around them. "Why would I talk to him out of all people?" She snorted, filled with distaste.

"Because he is your brother and he knows more about what happened in Duskendale than anyone else in court," he shifted his focus back on the silver-haired maiden.

Nyrella rolled her eyes, grimacing at her friend's response. "Your love for my brother blinds you. I refuse to speak with him after all he has done," the words gritted against her teeth.

"I have equal loyalties to you and Rhaegar," he corrected her, "You cannot be angry with him for long. You two need each other, more now than before."

"You even speak like him," she threw him a sharp side glance.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves clambered on the uneven cobblestone, grabbed the attention of the attending court. The King has arrived. Two bannermen rode ahead of the escort, holding up the banners of the infamous crimson three-headed dragons on a black field, the Targaryen sigil. They rounded around the courtyard before stopping at the center.

On their tracks, Ser Barristan rode on a dark horse in his usual garb along with a sling across his chest. He rode with a blank expression, not hinting at what is to come.

Finally the burgundy-colored wheelhouse came into view. It made its way around the courtyard looming with dread and an unwelcoming aura. The wheelhouse soon stopped in the middle of the courtyard, where everyone attending could see.

Nyrella held onto Jon's arm tighter. The anticipation was killing her, and she fought hard with the cold sweat forming around her face. Jon rubbed his thumb over her hand, trying his best to calm her nerves down.

One of the soldiers hastily opened the wooden door. There was a moment of dead silence, everyone in presence held their breath. Suddenly breaking the silence, pale slender fingers slowly ascend from the darkness of the carriage. The nail beds were dirty. The fingernails were murky yellow with chunks of dry skin underneath and were beyond the normal length. One by one, each finger in both hands gripped onto the side of the wooden carriage. Then, emerged the man Nyrella called father.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms came out from the darkness into the beating daylight. His appearance was hideous and grotesque like the infectious rumors. He stood gaunt and bony, dark circles devouring his remaining youth. The once silky silver-gold locks wasted into a brassy matted clump trailing past his shoulders. His eyes held no empathy, empty with only hysteria and a glint of blood. Months of imprisonment in the dungeons of Dun Fort, whilst being tormented and harassed, had severed Aerys' tie to sanity.

Nyrella wanted the shadows behind her to engulf her entirely. Her father was no longer her father. He is the Made King. She felt the sequence of her life flash before her. It was not pleasant nor hopeful—it was a dreadful end of everything good.

#asoiaf #pre asoiaf #house targaryen #female!oc #Targaryen oc #arthur and nyrella #rhaegar targaryen #house dayne #arthur dayne x oc #arthur dayne #arthur dayne fanfic #arthur dayne fanfiction #house connington #jon connington #the defiance of duskendale #asoiaf oc

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 8 months

Text

I Never Planned On You Chapter 12: Control- Davey Jacobs x Poppy

Word Count: 1.5k

Davey watched in horror as Jack stormed off after the speech he had made. Boys began to shout profanities and boo for him and Jack. He stood wordlessly, unable to process what had just happened. Poppy could do little more than watch Jack stalk off with the money filled envelope in his hands. Many emotions ran through her, but the biggest ones were anger towards Jack and pity towards Davey. As soon as she heard the boos and profanities pick up she was out of her seat and on the stage, grabbing Davey’s hand.

“We have to go,” she said lowly. “Come on.” The boy stood there numbly for a moment before following her, his mouth slightly ajar and his gaze unfocused and hurt. Poppy led him outside, unable to truly think until they were in the alley where the stage door led to, the shouting immediately silenced when the door closed. Once there she stopped short and turned to face him.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly. Davey looked down at her, snapping out of his distracted stare.

“Me? I’m fine- are you okay?” He asked, looking her over.

“No, you’re not okay,” she laughed quietly. “The only other leader of this strike sold us out for a few bucks, I know you’re panicking.” There was a knowing tone in her voice, one that grew the more she spoke. She’d just watched everything she’d worked hard for fall apart before her very eyes, and she was having a hard time processing it. Poppy was projecting the fact that she was panicking about it because that meant she was losing control. And Davey sensed that. He stared at her for a moment with worried eyes. He shook his head slowly.

“I’m not panicking,” he reminded her in a suspicious tone. “Are you okay?

“What? Of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be fine?” She asked with a nervous, almost forced laugh. “I’m totally okay, no problem at all.” As she rambled, the cracks began to show. Poppy’s hands had started shaking as she used both hands to push her hair back and tears were slowly but surely welling up in her eyes. Davey’s eyes widened a bit at the mere sight.

“Okay- alright, slow down…it’s okay” he soothed, leading her by the shoulders to a bench and sitting her down before cupping her face to look her over. “Do you need water?”

“Davey I’m fine,” she laughed weakly again. But the barrier was breaking.

“I’m…” she trailed off, voice catching right at the end as she realized that things were truly out of her control and there was no way she could get it back at this point. The boy pushed some hair out of her face and behind her shoulders so she didn’t get too warm. He shook his head and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. He knew that these types of panic attacks always end in tears.

“Hey- listen to me. You’re not okay, and that’s okay, but what’s happening right now is you’re spiraling instead of talking to me,” he said in an effort to ground her as he set his hands lovingly on her knees. The girl sniffled, shaking her head as she refused to look at him.

“I’m supposed to be the one in control, I’m not supposed to spiral,” she muttered quietly.

“Poppy, honey,” he whispered helplessly, setting both of his hands on each side of her face. “You can feel things, it’s okay, you’re allowed to let go.”

“No, I need to be in control,” she whimpered. “If I’m not in control then everything will just be a disaster I can’t not have control.” A quiet sob left her lips after she spoke as her hand pressed against his, gripping them tightly. Davey stared at her a moment, unsure of what to say. He had seen panic attacks before but not to this degree of panic. He frowned involuntarily.

“It’s going to be okay, nobody is hurt, the world is still spinning, I’m here, everything else can work itself out,” he soothed, moving his head to try and catch her gaze. Poppy’s eyes flitted all around his face until they finally met his. She licked her lips, which had become dry when her breathing had been heavy, and held his gaze as she attempted to calm herself down and take deep breaths. The boy opted to take some deep breaths along with her to encourage her.

“There you go, there you go,” he muttered, smiling a little. “Good job, you’re doing so good Poppy.” It took several long (and agonizing) minutes, but Poppy eventually managed to calm herself down with his help. Tears still steadily streamed down her cheeks, but they weren’t as quick and her hands still shook slightly, but that was the best she could do at the moment. Davey began to wipe her tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, still cupping her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, voice still a bit thick with emotion. He shook his head, continuing to wipe her tears away.

“No, hon, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was scary in there.” She shook her head and sighed softly.

“I’m supposed to be the controlled one. The last time I didn’t have control, I lost my best friend,” she muttered. Her fight with Marley a few months ago still weighed heavily on her heart, but she just couldn’t bring herself to talk to the girl.

“If I can’t control every aspect of my life, I just feel helpless, and hopeless,” she concluded quietly. Davey’s brows furrowed and he sighed softly.

“Maybe you and Marley need to have a chat,” he offered gently, setting a hand on her knee. “You’re drowning in guilt and responsibility. You can’t control everything, sometimes things just happen and you need to let things go.”

“It’s hard to do that,” she said quietly, eyes falling to the hand on her knee.

“I know, but I think things will get better, I think it’ll make you feel better,” he encouraged. Poppy merely nodded, leaning forward a bit to rest her forehead on his shoulder. The boy ran a hand soothingly through her hair.

“I’m here for you, I love you so much,” he muttered.

“I love you too,” she responded. Even when she was upset, those three simple words coming from him still managed to put a smile on her face. Davey grinned brightly at the sight of her smiling, smiling so hard that his face hurt.

“I love you- I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. The girl giggled, her mood much better by now, and cupped his face with both hands.

“I love you too,” she mumbled between her little giggle fit.

“Now let’s get you back to the lodging home,” he said softly, earning a nod and smile from the girl in front of him.

“Thank you Davey, I know that was a lot to deal with,” she laughed weakly.

“It’s really okay, Poppy. Besides, I have to deal with Les 24/7,” he responded as he stood, helping her up afterwards.

“Oh please, Les is a sweetheart,” she giggled. Davey hummed as they began to walk towards the lodging home.

“I actually believe that he rose straight from hell to test me,” he joked.

“Or maybe god wanted me to find my best friend,” she joked back.

“If Les is your best friend then I feel sorry for you,” he said, poking her side. The girl flinched away then laughed.

“You should feel sorry for yourself because now you have to deal with both of us.” He looked down at her.

“You gonna talk to Marley? Have you even seen her since she got back from the refuge?” He asked softly.

“I saw her,” she nodded. “I just… haven’t talked to her. I don’t know if she’s still mad at me.” Davey hummed thoughtfully.

“Knowing Marley I don’t think she’s mad. I don’t think I’ve seen her mad for more than five minutes at a time,” he joked softly as he stopped at the steps to the lodging home, wanting her to go in on her own terms.

“It’s a bit different this time,” she laughed quietly. “We both said thing we didn’t mean- at least, I hope she didn’t mean.” She grew nervous once again at the thought of things being out of her control though she yet again didn’t wanna show it. Davey took her hands in his and squeezed them with a smile.

“Things will go just fine, I promise,” he whispered. Poppy nodded and smiled awkwardly before taking a deep breath.

“Are you staying? Or do you have to get home?”

“I’m going to stay here for you, I wouldn’t leave you at a time like this” he reassured her.

Poppy nodded and sighed in relief, that being the push to get her to walk inside. She paused in the doorway momentarily before hesitantly making her way over to Marley and Specs while Davey watched. As he watched them talk from Poppy’s bunk, he had a feeling things would work out for them.

#newsies #newsies imagine #newsies live #newsies live imagine #davey jacobs #davey jacobs imagine #davey jacobs x oc

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tghwriting · 1 year

Text

45. Sparks Fly

Ollie walked past multiple passed out classmates as he walked towards the back door. Xander had been sitting outside for most of the party, but now he was out there alone. As he walked up behind him he felt his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure why but he felt this air about him that felt almost dreamlike. He hadn't smoked like basically everyone else at the party, but he figured it was just the second hand stuff that was affecting him now.

There was still a fire in the pit at the center of the patio where Xander was sitting, staring into the dancing flames. Ollie took the seat across from him, sliding down into the chair was a soft grunt. He was tired, almost exhausted, but he didn't want to leave Xander alone, he didn't know when this opportunity would arise again.

“I thought you'd have gone home by now.” Xander said, taking a sip of his beer, before leaning forward, holding it by the neck in between his knees. Ollie shrugged, tilting his head back to look up at the stars.

“And leave while the night is still young?” He chuckled.

Xander looked down at his phone on the table next to him, holding his hand over it for a second, the time illuminated on the black screen. “It's almost three am.” He narrowed his eyes at Ollie who nodded.

“Still young.” He leaned forward in his seat, looking past the fire at Xander with a smile. “You spent almost the entire party out here.”

“I like the fresh air.” He smiled, leaning back in his seat and looking out towards the lake that the fire overlooked. “It's so nice out here.”

“It is.” Ollie didn't look anywhere but at Xander. “You know, I thought that at some point tonight you would have come over.”

“And let the whole school know.”

“They suspect.” He chuckled.

“Do they?” He looked back at Ollie, eyebrows raised.

“Wouldn't you?”

“I don't give other people that much attention, you know that.”

“Do I?” Ollie winked.

“Smartass.” He stood up from his chair and walked over to Ollie, standing in between him and the fire. He put both hands on the armrests of Ollie's seat and leaned down so that his face was just inches from Ollies. “I hate when you're this...”

“Correct?” Ollie leaned up, his lips so close to Xanders that they were a hairs length away from brushing against each other.

“I think...” his breath was hot against Ollie's lips. The smell of beer encircling the two of them. “I think we should...” He trailed off, looking in Ollie's eyes, taking in the blue and green speckled iris'. Watching as Ollie's eyes darted back and forth trying to focus on which eye to stare out. Ollie never could keep eye contact with anyone. It was something that Xander had found extremely endearing.

“You're a tease, you know that?” Ollie reached up and grabbed the back of Xander's head, pulling him in that last bit, locking their lips together in a tender but passionate kiss.

Xander pulled away first. “What if someone sees?” He looked around at the passed out kids around the yard. Ollie shook his head.

“Then why don't we go somewhere a bit more private?” He started to stand up but Xander put a hand out to stop him. “What?”

“No, no, it's okay.” He smiled a wide, coy smile. “Let them see.” He leaned back down and this time forcefully, but lovingly, kissed him. His lips left Ollie's and trailed down his stubbly jaw line, down his neck. He ran his hands over Ollie's chest and smiled when he felt Ollie shudder under his cold hands. “What do you want to do?”

“I...” Ollie's head was spinning, he knew what he wanted, he know how much he wanted it. But in that moment, looking at Xander, “I don't know.” His voice broke. “I don't know.” He pulled away from Xander's touch and slid up out of his seat, gently nudging Xander away. “I'm sorry.”

All of the emotions that had been flooding through him seemed to break through the surface and he walked away quickly, not towards the house, but towards the lake. Xander hesitated but followed.

“Ollie, wait up.” He took off in a run to catch up to him, gently tugging on his arm to get him to turn around. “I don't want to mess this up.”

Ollie met his eyes for a moment and smiled softly. “I just...I don't understand what I'm feeling and it's kinda stressing me out.” He sighed.

“I get that. I don't know what I'm feeling either but I know that I'm feeling something and that isn't a bad thing.”

“Isn't it?”

“What are you afraid of? You father? My parents? The random assholes in this town?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, I for one think that nothing any of them think matters.” He grabbed Ollie's hand and squeezed. “I don't want to grow up and move out of this town and have regrets. I don't want to regret.” He reached a hand up and caressed Ollie's cheek. “So what do you say? Let's not regret together?”

Ollie closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into Xander's hand. When he opened his eyes his smile had returned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“But...”

“But what? What are you so worried about?”

“I...”

“You don't know.”

“No. I don't and I can't...I don't...” He trailed off and stepped out of Xander's grasp once more turning to look out at the lake that was now only feet from them. “I've seen what being in a relationship with someone can do to a person and I don't want....”

“You don't want to end up like your parents?” His voice was soft when he said it. Ollie had never talked about what happened between his parents even though the whole town knew. No one ever talked about it outright, but there were whispers, murmurs, people gossiped. Ollie's mother had killed herself four years ago, never leaving a note, just one day, seemingly out of the blue. His father never talked about it and he got remarried two years later. It was a sore subject for Ollie.

“My...”

“You won't end up like them, I can promise you that. I won't let that happen.” He reached out for Ollie again who backed away from his grip. “Ollie.”

“What if I'm just like him?”

“Now that...that is something that is absolutely impossible.” Xander smiled wide, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh. “You will never be like that man.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I've met him and I've met you. I have eyes, ya know.” That garnered a smile from Ollie who was the one to reach out to Xander this time and grab his hand.

“Thanks.”

“I'm serious, you know that?” Xander squeezed Ollie's hand and smiled. “I care about you too much to let anything like that happen.” Ollie smiled back at him.

“You care about me?”

Xander rolled his eyes and laughed. “Of course I do.” He pulled Ollie in and kissed him. The world seemed to melt away and Ollie, against the anxiety in his head, believed him.

#shortstory #365storychallenge #365shortstorychallenge

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

OMG I LOVE DOM H THATS INLY SOFT FOR HIS SUB BUT WHEN THEIR BRATTY HE GOES FULL DOM MODE

MELTS AND BOILS OUT OF HORNINESS

Y/N was more of cuddly and clingy tonight.

Wanting nothing but to hide herself in Harry’s chest pawing at his well-built hips with a huff through her nose to be more closer to him, all of it because of his sweet praising for her's while he took her pictures in his phone before leaving for this party he wanted her to be his date— maybe a simple companion she doesn’t know yet where they stand.

She looked too angelic in a baby pink satin slip dress for him not to smother her face in careful dotting kisses and grumbled in feign offend when she pushed him away with her small hand and giggled shyly.

“Y'gonna say no to daddy, Angel?” His daunting tut, blew her pupils into surprise and she rolled her eyes and went to swat his bicep, while her lower abdomen sparkled and tingled with excitement and delight. He likes to play all sweet and precious, but underneath that tentative and “’M putty in my Angels palm,” gooey exterior’s a wicked, mischievous little sneak and satan who likes to see her suffer, basking in the sputtery and fiddly reactions of hers.

Especially in public. Oh he loves it, when he’s intentionally grazing his warm lips against her earlobe to whisper how she’s so good for daddy, darting his tongue out to wet his lips and tease her. He liked taking her out on expensive fancy restaurants and be a filthy prat with his words without a shame making her knees knock into tables, gets her all warm and pink with his little plays like kissing her fingertips one by one and slipping them slowly into his mouth, kissing the dribbles of ice-cream from her chin and murmur hotly against her cupid bow, “Hmm. Your peach’s sweeter, moppet.” to feel her squeeze onto his hand that holds her all the time, always having a hand on the small of her back and raking it impossibly low only to get her all squirmy and bashful for him, barking out a laugh when she squeals for he slip it inside her bottoms and snapped them playfully.

He loves to rouse her and make her dip into the haziness, then has an audacity to sharpen a finger at her and grunt at her, “Behave.” When she copied his vicious actions back.

Saying this, he was back to chatting his friends and call Y/N bratty how much you want but the impulsive yearn that was bubbling in her tummy skunked over with jealousy, so she chose the better option. To infuriate and arouse him with her risky little play-tactics, in hope he might drag her away and push her into the nearest washroom and tell her to suck onto daddy’s cock— then swat her hands away harshly and fuck her little watery mouth himself.

So. When she tried to be as sly as possible pretending to drop something on the ground and then bent to have her ass, clad in silk lacies peeking for him teasingly. Harry noticeably gets a bit disgruntled, adjusting himself in trousers and shifting to yank her back to pull her against his chest with a displeased frown.

This time he didn’t tell her to behave making her pout awfully whiny up at him and getting her even more frustrated by smiling down at her as if nothing happened.

Though, the smile’s one of the sinister pressed jaw bbreakin-ly to stop him from gritting his teeth and land a hard stingy slap to her bum right infront of everyone.

Y/N stomps her feet which indeed gains his attention but he chooses to ignore it, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her closer to his side without even sparing a glance down at her.

Alas. Y/N has waved white flags of defeat considering no-amount of teasing and battiness would break his resolve – one the many things she’s envious of him in their little escapade of naughtiness, is Harry got a hellish of self-control, no wonder that’s one of the reasons he’s her dom.

“Where y'going?” He asks through a smile that was gleamed at his childhood bestfriend and not Y/N, she gulps down the lump of bitterness down her throat–- tone high-pitched in her mumble from the unbelievable achiness between her thighs and all she wants to do’s claim him hers, with deep red bites at his sweet pulse and the front of his throat’s bump.

She has no-idea in the flying fuck, what she’s stammering about, “Ni. Ma–. . . maybe he’ll be a better dom than you.” Ouch. Harry’s veins boils with spleen and indescribable outrage, his face sculptures into a fierce indignation–- out of his realization staring down at her blankly.

For a moment though Y/N feels an immense guilt pour down her head like cold icy water, cause all he’s been to her is sweet and caring telling her how precious she’s for him and how he’s gonna make love to her once they come back home.

She tends to say rubbish in her floatiness but never she has ever doubted him and her eyes gets all swimy, hands rushing up to cradle his face not caring if there’s a gathering around them – though she retreats when he doesn’t let her and to play nice with him has become a none to never option, atleast for tonight when he sets his eyes back on his friend, Y/N’s shoulders slump and shrugs; her head perks up immediately after when he’s bidding them byes and her inners fill with excitement and anticipation to just go home.

. . .

Her panties pools with arousal when he spreads his thighs apart, patting his meaty flesh with a skewered annoyance, “On daddy’s lap, bum out,” With gleeful little nod she’s stumbling her way towards him and he’s not pawing at her hips to lay her down and shove her face into the mattress, keeping his hands to himself quite for a moment before pondering if it’s the right punishment seeing how her panties are already twisted, she shrinks into herself at his cold demeanour wiggling a little to adjust.

Don’t get her wrong. She loves having him gentle and sweet and tentative, pressed so tight she could feel each lull and thump of his heart. Feeling him crush her under his weight with each thrust of his’s overwhelming each of her pores with so much love for him—- sometimes she imagines him to be rough with her, when he grabs and holds and bite her to leave her sore and whiny next day. Pinning her thighs roughly and fucks into her so fast and hard and deep .. god so deep she feels him in her tummy and her pussy swallows down onto him wetly.

He bunches her dress up her spine, strokes her cheek lovingly, plucking at her waistband and touches the soft supple skin then realizes how and why they ended up here.

Her body relaxes into him, nuzzling her nose into his knee and thinks he changed his mind and is out of fumes, will now fuck her nice and warm until a very, disrupting startling swat to her bum makes her gasp and she jerks against his bicep that’s holding her place in now, “Tha’ hurt!” She whined, pouting even though he couldn’t see it because his hold’s firm on her and if it stung didn’t mean she wants to stop him – it’s sparking the tingles in her pit wanting for more.

“’S supposed to,” He grabs onto her hand that tries to reach behind and rub the sting away, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished right?” He doesn’t wait for her short nod and gives another firm slap to her right cheek and she feels it jiggling under his calloused palm.

“Words!” He growls, she feels small and little in his lap and she’s loving it – knowing he’d immediately stop if she’d accentuate any discomfort, “Was mean. Teased daddy and ...” She mewls when he kneads her blushed skin and clucks his tongue at her, something so dominating and domineering about him in a way she wants to obey him and listen to him quite oddly now after so much wreck havoc—- her noise strangling inside herself out of embarrassment and utter shyness; that she hurt him.

“...and daddy doesn’t likes to be teased.” He says derisively, blunt nails scratching her thighs to raise goosebumps on her skin.

“Ought to teach ya a lesson, didn’t I? You’d be still a filthy brat if it wouldn’t hurt.” He slithers his long fingers under her chin and grabs it, makes her look up at him– giving a light slap to her parted lips when she refuses to look him in eyes.

She's puckering her spit coated lips to suck his digits in her mouth and shallow her cheeks around them, grousing when he removes them out of her reach and she melts into his palm when he gives her two more spanks one after another between her asscheeks quick and hard and rolls his thumb painfully closer to where her little hole is clenching.

Might, in other cases, he'd have cooed at her and caressed her bottom, murmuring, “Such a soft little thing,” and “Moppet y'did so good for daddy,”

“Turn over.” He elevates her with his knee, rocking her on his bulge teasingly and loops his arm around her waist to finally help her up.

The sea foam glazed eyes peering down at her with such intensity makes Y/N chase for his lips eagerly and she cries out when he backs away, “Daddy no ...” Her complain is dropping to a low whimper as Harry strokes his thumb over her bottom pouty lip, creaming her panties and pricking the balloon of exhilaration in her tummy -- she’s a bit upset he hasn’t called her pet names at all and he still thinks she’s bad and hasn’t learned her lesson.

She did! She’s good!

“Maybe if you weren’t so mean,” He cups her bum, breath hitching for a moment when she hisses, lifts her up and glides her panties down, “I would’ve eat your cute pussy out earlier.” He utters, nose burrowing in her neck when she tries to get rid of the panties to be good for him, “Perhaps only really good girls gets their peach eaten . . ‘cos they really deserve it, dunno?”

Her head bows against his chest, feeling unexpectedly too small and disheartened as she murmurs kittenishly clutching his sides and blinking up at him in desperation with glossy lashes, “’M good daddy. Aren’t I?” He let a small smile tick his dimples which went unnoticed by her, of how much haziness and subbiness she has gone under.

He sponges his lips to her collarbones, a whimper scrapes from her throat from where her hands are pressed to the seam of his slacks, while he leans back undoing his buttons.

His cock twitches and akin to it his face warm pink and happy at the noises she creates once he’s out and he grasps her wrists and tugs her forward, “I’m your good girl.” She takes a huge weepy sigh leaning herself to get his cock inside her without seeming bad— because she wants to be good and she’s needy and achy at the same time.

“Your sore and stingy bum would say otherwise, Bunny.” He grins, and a groan rattles in his chest when he swipes his fingers up her folds to inspect her and she’s dripping thickly.

“Fuck. Sucha tight pretty hole f'me.” He murmurs. Helps himself ease inside wet, tight hole and holds himself from making both of them flop back into sheets when she fits around him velvety and snug, his balls pressed to her bum.

She goes to loop her elbows around his neck to smush herself into him and to muffle any inhumane noises she’ll create-- too afraid she’d sob out for being in such a vulnerable state, rather, he hooks his fingers around her wrists securely and holds them behind her spine.

“Bounce on my cock, Bunny.” He orders and she mewls, realizing he isn’t done with her and knows she tires herself too early whilst ridding him and ends up grouching and huffing.

She complies. Feeling herself stuffier and stuffier, she soaks his cock utterly slick with each of his throb inside her and she always loves how he gets more stiff once inside her like it’s the best place he wants to be in and she gazes with hooded eyes to where she has created the slide for him easier, as her pussy squelches around him with his each buck and rough thrust.

“Aah! Ah!” She cries, nibbling onto the fading love-mark on his neck when he slips his hand between their bodies to roll her clit, “Yes, yes. Right there daddy!” He tips her chin to wrap his mouth around her swollen bitten lip and suckles on it murmuring.

“Here yeah? Is daddy’s cock nice and big, hitting your spot good, fuckin’ my baby’s spots good.”

She pouts up at him, chest heaving from all her work and he brushes her hair behind, “Apologise fo’ being naughty and you might get to cum,” She wastes no time, body stretching in arched bow with his slam of hips into her.

“I’m sorry, for being naughty and misbehaving!” She blubbers slumping onto his chest.

He pats her bum, groping it to help her fuck her cunt down his heavy prick and he whispers gutturally in her ear, “Keep going bunny. I could feel ye' pussy squeezin' me s'bloody tight.” He fucks her sloppily circling her sensitive nub twice, thrice until she’s gushing all over him in a heavenly manner thrashing in his arms and not able to screw down any moans and noises.

His own orgasm follows her. Pouring her hole with a heavy cum-load and his grip from around her wrists loosens up, falling on his sides and crinkling the sheets while he stuffs his nose into her shoulder hill thighs jerking under her.

They stay, like that for some seconds, covered in sheen and possibly eachother’s sweat— his recovery was too livid he didn’t heard soft sniffles against his cheek and his chest immediately suffocates up when he draws Y/N away to be met by her glassy drunk pink eyes, lower lip wobbling awfully sad.

“Daddy I’m sorry, I’m bad, I’m so sorry daddy —...” Her jumbled apologies gets lost into her violent sob that knocks her chest and she gasps, bursting wide pupils locked to Harry’s panicked ones and he quickly cradles her face shaking his head furiously, “No baby. You’re my good girl, me best girl.” His tone honest and loving and adoring.

“No! I hurt you ....” She trembles, hiding her face into her elbow and Harry pulls it away, he moulds both of his palms against her teary warm cheeks and lulls her face with all of the endearment he holds for her in his heart.

“I didn’t mean it daddy, promise.” She sulks, fear swimming in her eyes shattering Harry’s heart into infinite pieces and he scolds himself for it, terrified he went too harsh with her, “I know bunny. I know."

“Now come back to me, Angel. Harry misses you. Wanna have me Angel bac—...” Her babbling takes over his coaxing and she hiccups, head a mess of vivid thoughts and doubts, “I got jealous, don’t like it when you look at your friends the same way y'do to me,” He wasn’t. He could never see someone in the same light and same affection and adoration he sees his lovie, since, she was gone under the foam of dizziness too much and neglected of his attention it seemed like that to her and Harry’s beating himself for making her feel like it.

“I...I know, shouldn’t. ‘M sorry, but I love you so much daddy . . .” More tears springs and falls from her eyes. Her crying confession leaves Harry appalled and shocked, butterflies swarming in his tummy and his hands stays limp on her side before he ponders that’d make her over-think he doesn’t wants to touch her so he instantly rubs his hands up and down her arms, mouth guppies many time to stutter out something.

They hadn’t exchanged ‘I love yous' yet. He knew they’d. He wanted it be when they’d be all cuddled and he’s pecking her all where and making love to her, not when she barely knows about her presence and is too floaty to have her feet on ground.

“I love you too. I love you too, so much baby, fuck.” He presses his forehead to hers, nosing her softly and gently and then smashes his lips against hers in a deep humming kiss instead of answering when she blinks up at him startled asking, “You do,” So innocently that Harry had to kiss his love and feel the taste of sex on her mouth and suckle on her tongue to drive her mind away from deprecating herself.

“Wanna have my Angel, back. Please? Pretty please?”

“No more mad?”

“Could never be, you my baby.”

“Can I keep you inside me for sometime? I’ll be good.” She murmurs sleepily, Harry wraps his arms around her and snuggles her into his chest, “My cock’s all yours pretty girl.” He soothes her back. Waiting patiently for her breathing pattern to go back to normal.

“Thank you.” Her voice sobering up, cracking the cocoon of fog where his Y/N rests and the moment she’d be out, he’s gonna kiss her love for him out of her lips.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #dom harry #cute harry #daddy harry is that yoy #daddy!h #harry styles fanfic #naughty harry #fluff #hsh #harry styles one shot #harry stylez fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles dirty one shotsssss

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thatshithurted8 · 3 years

Note

jeff wittek imagine where the reader and jeff go on vacation together like to vegas or miami???

Holiday

Summary: Throughout your mini holiday in Miami with your boyfriend Jeff, he realizes just how special you and your relationship are.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, mention of alcoholism and Jeff’s accident

A/N This is also inspired by KSI’s song Holiday!

I wanna wake up every mornin', feelin' better 'Cause I know you're sleeping by my side And every moment we're together I remember just to keep it all for you and I

Jeff’s brown eyes slowly open, being awoken by a crying baby that was a few rows behind you two. He lets out a yawn before looking over at you who were fast asleep on his shoulder.

Something that not a lot of people knew was that Jeff hated flying despite being a certified skydiver. Ever since he was younger he was never a fan of flying, only now he was a bit more comfortable with it due to his experience skydiving. Nevertheless his initial nerves after waking up quickly wash away just from being in your presence.

Wanting to capture this seemingly perfect moment, Jeff slowly grabs his phone out of his pocket without disturbing you and takes a quick picture. As he analyzes the picture his heart swells at how at peace and comfortable you looked sleeping on him and in one of his sweaters. The two of you were extremely tired from catching a red eye flight to Miami so no wonder why you both fell asleep.

Saving the picture Jeff puts his phone away and slowly opens the blind of your window seat. The rising sun shines into your row, the rays illuminating your face making your features and long lashes more prominent. The purpose of the trip to Miami was to watch the Logan Paul vs Floyd Mayweather fight. In fact you were ecstatic when Jeff told you he got you guys tickets to the event since you grew up watching boxing with your family and you were a huge fan of Mayweather. With that being said you had no idea how close the tickets Jeff got were to the ring.

Jeff’s breath hitches as he admires you. He was so in love with you and was so excited to see your reaction to being ringside. As Jeff softly moves some stray hairs out of your face he realizes everything he does is for the benefit for not only you, but your relationship as well. It was you two against the world.

I see that body in the sunlight Feelin' the heat and it feels right I wanna do this for the rest of my life

“I know you guys are dating and all, but you seriously need to stop staring before you sink the boat with your drool.” Mike Maijlak says walking over to Jeff’s side and handing him a La Croix.

Jeff booked your mini holiday to last a few days before and after the fight which gave you guys the opportunity to explore Miami and let lose. With that being said neither of you were going to turn down Mike’s invite to join him on a yacht to party. So there you were talking and dancing with some girls you knew from LA while sipping on a La Croix.

Jeff lets out a laugh while opening one of his favourite drinks. “I can’t help it man, just look at her.” He says taking a sip of the bubbly liquid while continuing to admire you from afar.

The Miami sun that shined onto your skin paired with your infectious laugh, seemingly gave you a golden glow that made you standout. Not only that, but the bikini that you were wearing flattered your body type so well.

After feeling as if someone was staring at you for the past few minutes you finally turn and look around the boat to find the owner of the eyes that were on you. Quickly your eyes find Jeff’s brown ones and you realize it was just Jeff staring at you the whole time, causing heat to wash over your body at his gaze.

You shoot him a smirk and wink in return before turning back around to continue your conversation. A smirk of his own falls upon Jeff’s face as you do so, along with a light shade of pink on his cheeks.

“You’re so whipped.” Mike laughs shaking his head, finally speaking up after watching the whole interaction.

“Well I wanna be whipped for her for the rest of my life then.” Jeff says without realizing how big of a statement that was while his eyes remained on your beautiful figure.

Oh, I know, I know, you know the vibe I wanna stay with you every night You and me underneath the lights I'm always good when you're by my side I know, you know you're on my mind You really make me come alive I wanna be here for the rest of my life

“Jeff look at my hands I’m literally shaking I can’t believe we’re this close!” You exclaim while glancing between your boyfriend and the boxing ring in front of you.

“Only the best for you doll.” He says sending you a wink while laughing. For the past hour and a half as you two watched the undercards you continued to gush about your seats making Jeff happy to see you happy.

Without wasting another second you roughly grab Jeff by his green shirt and pull him in for a passionate kiss. Just before the brunette could immerse himself into it fully you pull away. Some of your lipstick was smudged and Jeff knew without a doubt he had some on his lips, but he didn’t care. In that moment it truly seemed as if you two were the only ones there under the rings bright lights and in an arena full of screaming fans while you two stared into each others eyes lovingly.

Your attention on your boyfriend is torn away when the already loud arena becomes even louder as Mayweather starts to walk out. Quickly you start to cheer for your favourite boxer while jumping up and down and clapping excitedly. Jeff glances between you and the boxing legend before his gaze finally lands on you.

You look over at your boyfriend with a smile that was from ear to ear. “It’s Floyd fucking Mayweather!” You exclaim pointing over to the undefeated boxer entering the ring.

A smile washes over Jeff’s face as he laughs at your excitement. You truly resembled a child in a toy store. Seeing your excitement only made Jeff more excited, causing him to join in on cheering for Mayweather despite being friends with Logan.

There was no one else Jeff would rather be with to witness the fight and this thought only made him realize he wants to be by your side for the rest of his life.

Looking for sun rays, needin' them good days Fly me away-away, you're my holiday Cool like the ocean, lost in emotion Fly me away-away, you're my holiday Whenever you're here it's a good time Strawberry shirts in the sunshine Ice-cold drinks 'til the moonlight You're my holiday Whenever you're here it's a good time Strawberry shirts in the sunshine Ice-cold drinks 'til the moonlight You're my holiday

The next few days after the fight was a whirlwind, but in a good way. Despite having a good time underneath the Miami sun and it’s nightlife Jeff wouldn’t be having as good of a time if you weren’t there. You truly made the trip for him, making the sunny days that were good for his mental health even better and the dreary days full of life from your infectious positivity and smile.

You let out a loud laugh as you and Jeff wrap your arms around each others, mimicking a toast before brining your drink to your lips while your boyfriend did the same. At the same time you two sip at your virgin drinks while maintaining eye contact with each other in the close position. You gulp down the rest of your cold drink despite it being alcohol free before untangling your arm with Jeff’s and ordering another at the outside bar.

Over the past four years of knowing Jeff the two of you created a special connection that no one in your friend group had with each other. And that was being sober. Jeff turned to alcohol after his break up with his ex girlfriend while you on the other hand turned to it to deal with the death of your mom. To say you were there for each other was an understatement. When the temptation to drink was too much Jeff would call you up and the two of you would go on late night hikes and talk about everything and anything, and vice versa for you. There was always a mutual pining for one another, but neither of you acted on it due to how broken you both were at the time. However, as the years went by your feelings only intensified along with Jeff’s. Though it wasn’t until a few months after Jeff’s accident when he took a leap of faith and finally confessed his feelings to you after realizing how short life truly was.

Jeff places his glass on the bar as well, placing his hand on the small of your back while looking around the crowded club that was partly inside and partly outside. Once you get a refill of your drink you turn around sipping on the paper straw, your back leaning against the bar causing Jeff to redirect his attention back to you.

“You look beautiful.” He says looking down at you in his arms.

Heat washes over your face and Jeff’s smile widens at how flustered you still got after all this time together. He loved showering you in words of affirmation and he meant every thing he said to you. Although, you always look beautiful the way the moonlight reflected off of your skin made you look angelic. It was a great contrast to you earlier in the day at the beach wearing a strawberry printed bikini that made Jeff feel a certain way.

“Thank you baby you don’t look too bad yourself.” You say placing a soft peck on Jeff’s lips before pulling him towards the dance floor.

I wanna stay up 'til the mornin' with you talkin' Just to listen to the things you say And every time we're in the middle of the city I imagine us so far away

The two of you sat down in a booth with Mike Majilak and Logan Paul at a random Denny’s that was in between your hotel and the club you four were previously partying at. By now the jet lag and the numerous activities you and Jeff participated in was starting to catch up to you. However, that wasn’t apparent to anyone other than Jeff as you talked the boys ears off while eating.

“We’ll see you guys later! And once again Y/N text me when you’re free to film an episode of ImPaulsive.” Logan says as him and Mike get out of the booth, placing money on the table and getting ready to leave the restaurant.

“Of course!” You exclaim before picking up your lemonade and drinking what was left. Jeff bids his goodbyes to the two influencers and once they leave you quickly rest your head on his broad shoulder, letting out a loud sigh.

“You okay doll?” Jeff asks placing his hand on your thigh.

“Yea just tired.” You say kissing his neck and placing your hand on his cheek. Similar to Jeff you were able to pick up on the energy of situations and that affected how you acted. So once Mike and Logan left you felt as if you could finally wind down from their partying aura.

A comforting silence falls upon you two and your eyes slowly flutter close as the rising sun shines in through the Denny’s windows. As cliche as it sounded Jeff felt as if it was only you two in the quiet breakfast place. The brunette rests his head against yours and his eyes follows your lead by shutting close.

The two of you remain in this position for a few minutes, cherishing not only the first quiet moment of the trip, but also the little moments you two shared.

Ooh, ooh Ooh, you're my holiday

Scratching at his eyes and stretching Jeff slowly and quietly gets out of bed, the sun filtering in through the hotels curtains and onto your sleeping body. You looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to disturb that. Once you guys returned to your hotel room from a night out partying and a very early breakfast at Denny’s the two of you instantly fell asleep.

Jeff glances at the analogue clock on the bedside table which read 2:34pm before he slips on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. Making sure to not wake you Jeff grabs his phone, wallet and room key then quietly leaves your shared room. However, before he leaves he makes sure to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and whisper to you how much he loves you.

Throughout the trip he was constantly reminded of how much he loved you. You helped him through some of the darkest times in his life and after all this time of knowing and being together Jeff finally knew what he had to do.

Remembering a shop that was a few buildings away from your hotel, Jeff quickly walks over to it wanting to be back before you woke up. The Staten Island native hands become clammy as he approaches the store, his tough guy persona seemingly crashing down with every step he took.

The bell above the shops door dings as Jeff walks in causing a sales representative to walk over to him with a welcoming smile.

“Good afternoon how can I help you?” She asks. Jeff takes a look around the quaint shop and all of the glass casings before redirecting his attention back to the worker.

“Hi uh yea, I was wondering if you guys have any engagement rings?”

#jeff wittek #jeffrey wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek fluff #jeff wittek angst #jeff wittek smut #jeffs barbershop #jeff fm #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek x you #mike majlak #logan paul #fic recs #vlog squad

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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whoree321 · 3 years

Note

Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?

Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…

Anyway, thank ya <3

hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.

and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!

a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)

it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.

warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)

word count: no idea but it’s pretty long

***

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.

It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.

No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.

When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall

He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.

“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.

“You mean like friends with benefits?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.

“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”

“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”

You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.

“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”

Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”

He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…

Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”

Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.

“Splendid”

From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.

In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?

This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.

And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.

There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.

But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.

Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.

“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”

You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.

As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.

You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.

Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.

Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.

It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.

The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.

You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.

As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.

***

Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).

He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.

But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.

A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.

Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.

But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.

When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and

And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.

It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.

That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.

But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.

It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.

But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.

***

The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.

“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”

At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.

“I do not know what you are referring-“

“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.

“They requested a transfer?”

“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.

Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.

You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.

“Maker, Tech you scared me!”

“Please don’t leave”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.

You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“

Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.

“You fell in love with me?”

He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?

You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.

“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”

Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.

“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”

You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.

“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.

“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.

“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.

“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“

You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”

You grinned.

“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”

Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.

“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.

You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.

“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x y/n #tech x you #the bad batch x reader

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aurorablue22 · 3 years

Text

Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited.

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3

“Good morning my dear!” you said as you walked into the kitchen, where Harry was cracking an egg over the frying pan.

“Mornin’ (Y/N).” he smiled, and you walked over to him.

“Y’know Harry, you don’t have to make breakfast for us. Even after all this time I feel bad-”

“(Y/N), I’m fine, I promise. Besides, I already made you tea.” he nodded towards the counter, and you gave a pouty smile as you picked up the mug. “Sweet boy.” you cooed, and ruffled his hair.

You and your godson were enjoying whatever Harry had whipped up, and talking about the strange dream he had last night, when an owl tapped on the window. You took a swig from your tea mug and lifted the latch, letting the dusty creature inside. It gave a polite hoot, and you bowed your head in return.

You unfastened the letter from the owl’s foot while Harry filled a bowl with water and a plate with bacon scraps.

“Oh, it’s from Rem!” you hastily tore the envelope, and slipped the parchment through the folds. Sprawled across the yellowed paper was half-messy, half-loopy writing, which you’d grown quite familiar with.

“What’s he up to?” Harry asks nonchalantly.

Your eyes quickly moved from left to right, scanning over the message. Your brain hung onto specific words; Order, Phoenix, Army, The Dark Lord... and Padfoot.

You took a breath in as you read your husband’s name, and Harry peeked over your shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, my dear..” you shook your hand, handing him the message. “It’s just..”

Harry immediately understood. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? You do want to see him... right?”

You whipped around, your updo falling loose. “Of course I want to see him! I just... I just don’t know.. “ you sighed, and sat back at the kitchen table. Your brain floated back to what Remus had written; how the Order was reassembling, and he was extending the invite to you, just like he had in the 70s.

Not only that, but he had scribbled something along the lines of “Padfoot will be joining us as well. I do hope you’re willing to see him.”

Of course you did! But it was complicated to explain to others. You were nervous. The most communication you’d had with Sirius over the past two years was letters. Most of his were on scraps of newspaper, so you always made sure to pack extra parchment into your envelopes.

Within the past few weeks, his message arrived a lot cleaner and appeared less rushed, which you appreciated. Each time an owl arrived, your heart soared. But in those letters, you couldn’t reveal anything about your lives, in case they fell into the wrong hands. That being said, the most you two could say to each other was “I love you”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just after 7 o’clock, when Remus and a girl with purple hair had come to pick up you and Harry. She introduced herself as ‘Tonks”. Of course, you hadn’t realized at the time she was your cousin in law.

You both waved them off, Remus assuring them you’d catch up soon. You gave your Godson a kiss on the cheek.

“Be good,” you pointed your finger at him “Listen to Tonks”.

“I will, I will!” he teased.

When they’d both left, you and Remus sat on the tiny loveseat in comfortable silence.

“I wanted to check up on you,” he stated, and you looked up to reach his gaze. Oh, Remus. Your best friend. “I realize when I sent my letter it must’ve been a bit of a shock to you.” he placed his hand over yours.

“Oh yes, well, I think I might’ve frightened Harry more than anything. I’m not sure if he’s used to how dramatic I am yet.” you two laughed, Remus teasing you that it took him a long time to get used to it too.

Your laughter died down, and Remus spoke again. “He’s very excited to see you, (Y/N). In fact, he’s been fixing up his hair all day.”

You couldn’t even laugh. That was such a Sirius thing to do.

Your eyes glossed over at the thought, which Remus noticed immediately. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to see him Rem.” you cut him off, and you saw relief wash over his features. “I’m just a little nervous.”

It took a few minutes, but after a warm hug and Remus’s signature pep talks, you were ready to go. Never letting go of his hand, the two of you apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Always a gentleman, Remus opened the front door for you, and you were greeted by the distant chatter at the end of the hall. Although you couldn’t see any faces, you recognized the voice of your Godson and his friends, along with that of Mad-Eye and Mrs. Weasley, to be followed by-

him.

It was that glorious laugh you’d waited 14 years to hear, the sound bounced around your head and you began to feel faint. Remus patted your shoulder, and you turned your head to look at him.

He nodded towards the end of the corridor, smiling. You took a deep breath, staring down the long hallway ahead of you. You brushed the stray hair out of your face and clenched your fists. As you began walking, you could hear Remus following close behind.

Your footsteps were booming across the corridor, your pace picking up with every step. Your breathing heightened and your heart was in your throat. You pushed open the door in front of you, and it slammed against the wall. The sound alerted the entire room, and you scanned over everyone’s faces. You finally landed on those eyes, his eyes, still as grey and dreamy as you’d left them.

“(Y/N)!” he shouted, getting up from his seat, looking anything but composed.

“Sirius” you breathed, tears already forming. The two of you ran towards each other, and finally, after 14 long years, you found yourself in his embrace once more.

It was tight and strong, he held you protectively yet with extreme caution. You sobbed into his chest, knowing that there weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how you felt at the moment.

Much to your surprise, and those in the room, Sirius began to cry as well. Not as much as you, but tears fell from his eyes as though he was only a boy. You held onto him, not wanting to let go, your hands digging into his jacket, and your face buried in his chest.

The world fizzled out around you, and you didn’t even notice how people were reacting to the scene. Remus leaned against the doorframe, wiping away a few tears himself; he felt so grateful he could see his best friends together once more.

Although they would deny it later on, Harry and Hermione hid their emotions behind Ron, the both of them on the verge of an entire breakdown. This was followed by Mrs. Weasley, who was sniffing loudly as her husband passed her a handkerchief.

Sirius was the first to pull away, and he cupped your face with his hands. He had a certain look on his face, as though he’d fallen in love all over again. He wiped away your tears with his thumb, and looked into your eyes.

Your knees might’ve given out at that very moment if he wasn’t there to steady you. “Even more beautiful then when I left you.” he spoke, barely over a whisper, his voice sending those familiar tingles down your spine.

You couldn’t even form words, you were so lost in his features. You only smiled, which he returned. “Why don’t we go into the other room, hmm?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, leading you out of the dining room. You could barely hear Ginny burst into loud sobs behind you, and how Mrs. Weasley followed suit.

He walked you down the hall, and you never took your eyes off each other, only breaking the gaze when he opened the door to the living room.

You two sat on the dusty couch in the dimly lit room, and he took your hands in his. You realized then and there how much you’d missed his loving gaze; at this point he was practically drooling at the sigh of you.

He wrapped his arms around you once more, his head resting atop yours. “I’ve missed you so much my love, so very much.”

You only gripped him harder, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and his old cologne. Your eyes pricked yet again; it was the cologne you used to spray on his pillow when he was first imprisoned.

“Sirius..” you said his name as though it were your only prayer. He hummed in response, lifting your face to meet his. You leaned in closer to him, your faces not even an inch apart. You closed the gap, your lips finally meeting his. You took in a breath through your nose, and butterflies began swarming in your stomach.

You parted your lips, which Sirius took as an invite, and his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your hands found their way into his hair, and his around your waist. You felt your cheeks getting wet, and you realized it was from Sirius. A few tears had spilled from his eyes, but he didn’t let up from the kiss.

It was full of passion and love, sprinkled with a bit of lust. He laid you gently on the couch, his body hovering over yours, and you finally broke apart. He gave a few gentle pecks down your neck, and returned to eye level with you.

“Oh darling..” you spoke, trying to contain the emotions that were sure to spill out of you. Both of you were at a loss for words, simply staring at each other, taking in everything you’d missed out on. You smiled lovingly at him, and the corners of his mustache quirked as he did the same. You giggled, fiddling with his locks.

“You grew a beard.” you stated, still admiring the sight before you.

“Do you not like it?” he asked, more so a rhetorical question than anything.

“I find it very sexy.” you reassured him.

He chuckled a bit, never taking his eyes off you. “Oh my dear,” he stroked the side of your face, and he brought you to sit back up. “I haven’t a clue how I managed without you.”

A certain emotion flashed over his eyes, and he fought off a grimace, trying to outrun the hell that lived within him. You placed a hand on his cheek, your wedding band giving a bit of a cold sting to his face.

He gently took your hand and brought it into view; his eyes crystallized once he saw the ring he’d given you so many years ago. “You kept it..” his tone was unsure, as though he was confused as to why you did.

“Of course I did Siri, I love you.” your heart ached for him; he must’ve thought you’d moved on before he’d seen Remus again. You remembered the conversation you had with Remus a few months ago, where he opened up about seeing Sirius again. They’d been writing every couple of months, and Remus had to constantly reassure him that you were still available; that you’d never given up on your husband.

“I’ll always love you.” you furrowed your brow in an attempt to conceal yet another sob.

“And I, you. My sweet girl.” Sirius placed a kiss on your knuckles, then moved back to your lips. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” he mumbled into the kiss, and you felt yourself melt in his embrace, knowing that you and your husband were finally reunited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi my lovelies!! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I loved writing it! Let me know if I should follow up on this “Reunited” fic, because I’m really looking forward to adding more. That would include something romantic and/or something smutty, I’m honestly up for anything bahaha. Please send in your requests, whether it be for this fic or really anyone in Harry Potter. And don’t be afraid of giving feedback, I’d love to know what you think! <3

~Aurora

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opalesense · 3 years

Note

Can I request Diluc going off on a long journey with the traveler and his s/o gives him a fat smooch goodbye in front of everyone and he’s like 👁👄👁 all embarrassed

one goodbye kiss

diluc & gn!reader

1k words • ~6 min. read

summary: you accidentally fluster diluc in the middle of the tavern by giving him a goodbye kiss before he sets off on his travels.

warnings: none!

notes: HAHAHA THIS IDEA IS SO CUTE??! also i’m really sorry i took so long to respond ghdhhsg my mind has been in nsfw land lately... but thank you for requesting, take a kiss from me before you get a kiss from diluc <3

“WE’LL BE BACK IN A FEW WEEKS,” Diluc reiterated to Charles, who was only informed of the winery owner’s last minute leave just mere moments ago. Charles, quite literally in the middle of a shift tonight, wiped down the counter with a sigh. He gave Charles a pat on the back and look of reassurance. “If you ever need anything, just let Elzer know. I’m sure he can find people to cover my shifts while I’m gone.”

“Come now, Diluc,” Kaeya set his mug down after taking a long swig, “Why don’t you entrust your dear old brother to cover your shifts? You know I’m here almost every night anyway. And you shouldn’t doubt my mixing skills, either.”

Diluc could only scoff and shake his head at Kaeya. Readjusting his leather sack that carried most of his belongings necessary for travel, he made his way across the other side of the counter in swift steps. He snatched Kaeya’s bottle of wine away from him, earning a pout from the blue haired brother. “That’s your sixth bottle of the day. You’re here almost every night to drink, not work. Nice try, though.”

“Hey, I was drinking that too, you know,” Rosaria pitched in as well, furrowing her eyebrows as Diluc handed the bottle to Charles, who put it back on the shelf behind the bar.

“How come the so called ‘protectors’ of Mondstadt get drunk almost every night instead of patrolling the city for danger? Tell me, who’s out there watching the streets right now? Surely it’s a Knight’s duty, at the very least, to do their job sober,” Diluc crossed his arms as he threw out casual criticism at the two drunken night owls.

Rosaria fidgeted with the blade in her hand and scowled, “I’m not even a Knight, dumbass!”

“Hey, we have to get going soon and hopefully we’ll be at Liyue by sunrise,” the traveller interrupted the banter and lightened the mood a bit. “Diluc, don’t you want to give a nice goodbye? We’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, after all.”

Diluc sighed and softened his gaze. The traveller was right. He had learned over the years that goodbyes were always the hardest, and he never wanted the his potential last goodbyes to end in bitterness. It would break his heart to think that someone’s last memories of him could be unpleasant, and he couldn’t stand anymore heartbreak.

“Fine,” he uncrossed his arms and reached a hand out to Kaeya’s shoulder, giving him a firm pat. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Kaeya let go of his pout and replaced it with a slight grin, aware of Diluc’s genuine concern laying underneath his lack of words to show for it. Nonetheless, he appreciated his attempts at reconciliation, no matter how small it was.

“And you,” he turned to face Rosaria, who was playing with the blade effortlessly, “don’t let this idiot go overboard.”

She simply responded by rolling her eyes. “I’m not his babysitter, but I’ll do you a favour just this once.”

Diluc then turned to face you. His stern scowl was immediately replaced with a soft grin, his eyes lighting up once he had a good look of your face. You stood up and took a step closer to him, falling into his arms in a desperate, intimate embrace. He sighed as he wrapped his warm hands around you, caressing your back and allowing this moment to plant a seed in his memory that he could carry with him during his travels. He closed his eyes for a moment, tuning out the ambient sounds of the tavern, forgetting about his responsibilities and simply enjoying your presence.

Alas, all good things come to an end and he knew he couldn’t keep the traveller waiting. His eyes fluttered open as he slowly loosened his grip on you, allowing you to lean back a little and meet his eyes with yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, smoothing over his freckled skin with your thumbs and staring longingly into his deep red eyes.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you whispered. He studied your face for a few seconds, distracted by the way you glimmered in the dim light of the tavern.

“I’ll miss you too, my dear–“

Suddenly you pressed your lips against his, taking his breath away in a kiss that had him take a step back in the sheer impulsivity of it. His eyes widened as he kissed you back, panic settling in as he realized you two were not alone at home like usual. In fact, you were kissing him in front of his travel companion, brother, friend, coworker, and all the patrons currently in the tavern. He grabbed your waist instinctively, wanting to pry you off of him, but knowing that his return home was never guaranteed, he allowed you to continue kissing him and held your waist lovingly instead.

But soon enough, you pulled your face away and giggled at the sight – his face was priceless! The poor man, usually perceived as grumpy and stern according to most citizens of Mondstadt, stood there helplessly with a crimson blush rivalling his own hair color. With eyes widened, lips quivering, and forehead slightly dampened with nervous sweat, you cooed at his innocent expression, and apologized profusely for the sudden action with sweet whispers as you pulled him in for another hug again.

“I just... couldn’t hold back, you know?” you admitted, “Sorry, dear...”

“It’s... it’s okay, my love,” he stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Kaeya and Rosaria, who were already trying to hold back their laughs. But they just couldn’t do it, no matter how hard they tried to maintain normalcy, the two troublemakers giggled profusely.

“You two better shut it before I make you shut it,” Diluc held out his hand, still holding you closely, and summoned a bright flame to spook them. And sure enough, that was enough to keep their lips sealed for the rest of the night. Though, that didn’t stop them from exchanging teasing glances with each other, and that surely didn’t stop the rest of the people in the room to talk amongst the people of Mondstadt the next morning about how cute of a lad Diluc was at the tavern, all because of one goodbye kiss.

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #mine #boom #requested

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luckyasfuck · 3 years

Text

could’ve been with me instead of what’s her fucking name

pairing // dilf!katsuki x fem!reader, dilf!katsuki x his wife

warnings/themes // NSFW, dilf!katsuki, soft dom!katsuki, he’s still very mean tho :(, sub!reader, babysitter!reader, READER IS SMALLER THAN KATSUKI IN THIS FIC (by height), infidelity, size kink, praise, fingering (f!recieving), nipple play, bulging, slight mentions of infantilization, hints of hard dom!katsuki at the end

word count // 1.6k

requested by // anon

a/n // anon never said katsuki can’t be mean as fuck

sequel

it was dark. and pro-hero dynamight’s tongue was shoved down your throat. how you ended up in this position, you don’t know. the remaining thoughts you had became hazy as katsuki’s hand slithered up your shirt to cup your boob. he was supposed to be on a mission today and you convinced him you’ll take care of his twins for him since his wife had a late-night shift in the hospital.

it’s been about 2 years since you became the pro-heroes sidekick. sometimes he’d stare at you with half-lidded vermillion eyes filled with lust, and you’d do the same. but none of you bothered to bring it up: the way you two eyed each other. katsuki fucked his hand one too many times every time he saw you wearing a skirt, and he’s pretty sure you’ve bent down one too many times as well to give him a peak of your lace panties.

so it wasn’t shocking when instantly takes off his gauntlets when his wife walked out the door and got in her car. the couch you sat on was soft, the television’s volume was low, but you could still hear it. a pair of hands are suddenly placed on either side of you and you flinched slightly, head turning around by reflex. katsuki’s sculpted body and muscles towered over you, his face centimeters away from your with a proud smirk etched onto his handsome features.

next thing you knew, he was between your legs, his body keeping them apart. he fans his hot breath over your face before diving in to give your tongue another taste of his mouth. he grinds his hard-on against your panties, the skirt you wore practically ripped off with your consent. the rough material of his hero costume rubs against your clit and you whimper, gripping his messy ash blonde hair. two of his meaty fingers grip your panties, pulling them aside and flicking them through your wet folds as you sucked on his tongue sloppily.

in a second, you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you up, trying his best not to break the heated kiss. guilt swarmed in your stomach, or was it really guilt? maybe butterflies? there’s no time to figure it out, katsuki opens the master bedroom door and lays you down on the bed, pulling away to take your shirt and panties off. your bra is lifted up and unclipped, your nipples being toyed with by the pro-heroes mouth. his gaze on you is intense as he sucked on your right tit while playing the other one in between his fingers.

an unoccupied hand goes to rub your clit, his pointer and ring finger spreading your pussy lips apart to push his middle finger in. throwing your head back, your hole flutter around his digit. his kisses go from your boob to your jaw, leaving a hot trail behind them. lips encaging yours again, katsuki moves his fingers at a fast pace making you throb. slowly, he adds another finger, scissoring them inside you as he tries to stretch your hole out so it can fit him.

“you’re so tiny, taking my fingers so well. let’s hope you can take my cock just as good, hm?” katsuki hummed almost affectionately against your lips, picking up the pace of his fingers. “s-sir,” you choked out. “gonna cu-”

“call me katsuki.” his thumb rubs quick and sloppy circles on your clit and you come undone beneath him, cumming all over his fingers. a sigh leaves his lips and he pulls his digits out, licking them clean. “mhm, tastier than my wife.” a dark chuckle erupts from his throat as he went to kiss you, “you probably wouldn’t know, but i can assure you you’re much tastier.” the praise makes you whimper, your clit throbbing hard as he took off his hero costume before you.

the sight of his toned muscles makes you drool, but the large tent in his boxers makes you gulp. with a swift movement, his underwear is off and his cock springs free, slapping his stomach. “that... that’s not gonna fit.” the size and girth intimidated you. nonetheless, your legs stayed spread out for him, practically begging him to shove his cock inside you without warning. “we’ll never know if we don’t try.” katsuki comments, getting back on top of you and using his pink tip leaking with pre-cum to tease your clit and poke your entrance. “do you want it, honey?”

calloused fingers run lovingly down your cheek as he stared at you, waiting patiently for your answer. with a small nod from you, he pushes his tip inside. you grip his shoulders and he cradles you in his arms, slowly pushing his cock further. the stretched burned and you throw your head back, letting out a small whimper of pain. the cock inside you stop moving for a moment, katsuki trailing kisses up and down your neck. “just a little more, baby.” he said, rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm your tense body down. breathing quickening, he pushes the last inch inside you, gazing at you to find any hints of discomfort.

your head was lolled back, mouth open and saliva drooling down the side in pleasure. instinctively, you grind your hips against him, silently asking him to move. and so he does, slowly rocking his hips with yours, cock reaching the deepest depths of your pussy. a hand is placed at the bottom of your stomach and you look over, seeing katsuki admiring the bulge that was forming around that spot. “this pretty pussy, just look at her. swallowing my cock down like a good girl even though she can barely fit it, hm?”

“faster.” you panted out, and this sparks something in katsuki, hips grinding against you gradually going faster until he was pounding into you. the grip you have on his shoulders tighten as you clench around his sporadically, savoring in his grunts and occasional moans. a particularly loud moan erupts from your throat when he changes angles, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. “shh now, honey. the twins might wake up and complain, they wouldn’t want to see their daddy cheating on mommy with the pretty and young babysitter, now would they?” katsuki spat out, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss, swallowing in every whine and moan that escapes your lips.

his heavy balls slap against your ass, his unshaved stubble grinding against your clit oh-so-nicely. a hand is placed on your boob to feel it jiggle up and down harshly due to his hard and fast thrusts, the skin slapping and muffled moans prominently bouncing off the walls. in a second, you cum without warning. it just felt so good. it wasn’t right but it felt so. fucking. good.

katsuki’s thrusts grow a little faster but more sloppier as he was near to cumming. he hides his face in your neck, moans uncontrollable. with one last hard thrust up your cunt, he paints your walls white with his cum. the room goes silent, soft panting filling it instead. the ash blonde buries his face in between your boobs, giving either of them a kiss before taking his cock out and lying beside you.

“i’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” katsuki promises, placing you on the guest room bed after he showered with you and got you a change of clothes from the bag you brought with you. he tucks you in as if you were his child, giving you a kiss on the forehead before sending you to sleep.

[ timeskip ]

you couldn’t walk. it was the first thing you tried when you woke up, and you miserably failed. laughter boomed in the kitchen, but you didn’t bother. mrs. bakugou has gone back from her shift and is probably making breakfast. once you learned how to walk correctly again, you texted katsuki a good morning and the news about you not being able to walk. “come down for breakfast, hurry.” was all he replied.

with slightly wobbly legs, you walks downstairs and into the kitchen. the sight of mrs. bakugou perched up on the counter, nightdress hoisted up slightly with katsuki’s hand in between her thighs as they laughed together fumed you. “stop, she’s gonna see.” mrs. bakugou giggled, trying to push her husband away. “i don’t care.” he smirked.

oh so now he doesn’t care? okay then.

“excuse me? uh, sorry.” a nervous and awkward chuckle escapes your lips, waving to the married couple. mrs. bakugou is quick to push the blonde away from her, shoving his hand that was in between her legs away. “i’m so sorry, honey.” the older woman apologized to you, “um, would you like to stay for breakfast? oh wait, i’ll just get your pay.” she offered before quickly rushing upstairs to the bedroom. same bedroom her husband railed you in, and she doesn’t even know.

ignoring katsuki’s hard gaze on you, you sat down on the same couch you sat on last night, fixing your things. “eh? not giving me any attention now?” he approached you, showing up beside you unexpectedly. “what we did was a mistake mr. bakugou, i’m ju-”

“i told you to call me katsuki. you’re jealous, aren’t you?” the blonde smirked, lips growing closer to yours with every word until it fanned his hot breath on yours. you turn your head, “that’s absurd.” you let out a disappointed sigh that turns into a loud gasp when a harsh grip on your jaw forces you to look at him.

“if you want me to fucking destroy your little pussy in front of her, then you better start fucking begging before she comes back.”

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hex-obsession · 3 years

Text

Silver Lining- Three

word count- 2,389

content warning- language, sexual acts (potentially rough)

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Nothing like getting pulled out of a deep sleep to go repair bulky, strident machinery and run, literally, for your life. You were, physically and mentally, in a fog. Worn out from the emotional runaround mere hours ago, you weren’t your usual bubbly self. To make matters worse, Leon was here and saw the discomfort on your face. Who wouldn’t? You were always bad at masking your feelings.

“Everything okay y/n?” Chills trickled through your ears and down the back of your neck at the soothing hum of his voice. It was too early for this, but at least you were fully awake now.

“Y-yeah, just tired.” Your hand defensively moves to your other arm, sending him the opposite message of ‘I’m fine’. Leon tenderly places his hand over yours, ducking slightly to be eye level with you. Instead of speaking, you just stare back at him blankly. Mind racing yet empty, you're completely lost for words. You forgot how to even speak, let alone move your tongue. Finally, your sense of self-preservation kicks in and you blurt out “I’m fine, really. Just in a haze, I guess. Really tired.” You force a smile, praying he buys it, or at least takes it as a hint not to pry. He’s still staring at you, studying your face and body language. This man was far too perceptive to fall for a lie that poorly executed. Not wanting to interrogate you and possibly upset you further, he let it go. His face relaxed, the puzzled, disapproving expression now replaced by one of empathy and concern.

“If there’s something on your mind, please tell me when you’re ready.” He extends his other arm and gently pulls you toward him, which you do not resist. You sheepishly wrap your arms around him, worried he might feel the pounding in your chest and return to questioning you. You couldn’t help but melt in his arms, which did help calm your nerves some. Consoling each other (let’s be real, it was always him consoling you) was no new feat. His uniform was rough on your cheek, a mix of harsh fabric and dried blood, but you didn’t mind. With your head turned, resting on his chest, you saw Jeff and Laurie coming closer. As much as you wanted to stay in this exact spot forever, you were grateful to direct Leon’s attention to anything other than you long enough to compose yourself. Hands eager to touch him longer, you lovingly rub his back and give his sides a little squeeze before releasing him.

“Sorry, hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” Laurie chimes innocently.

Cheeks ablaze, you jump to defend yourself. “No you’re fine! I’m just feeling a tad under the weather and Leon is a great friend.” You smile, eyes darting back to him only long enough to see he’s staring at you. Fuck, fuck, your face was on fire. Back on Laurie, she ever so slightly squints, so quickly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t excruciatingly observant. Her lips curl at the edges. She knows. You look back to Leon, who is still staring at you. Shit, fuck. You look to your left trying to avoid everyone's gaze. Her dainty hands latch onto you, pulling you into a hug. You stumble slightly, intoxicated by nervousness.

“Oh, sorry love.” She tilts her head back just enough for her mouth to line up with your ear. “Do it.” Her voice is heavy and breathy. It almost startles you, and a nervous chuckle escapes you.

“Th-thanks Laurie. Yeah, I just had a weird dream and I’m feeling really, uh, off.”

Heart racing, you thought it might be trying to escape, the force with which it was beating. You push your hair away from your face, hoping it would make breathing less labored when, you only made it easier to see how flustered you were. A final glance at Leon confirms he is indeed still staring. You’d never been thankful for the entity taking you before, but there’s a first time for everything. The fog surrounds you and the trial ensues, scattering you across the map. Completely disregarding everything other than your feelings, you shake your head and stretch your arms above you. They come down, folding around your head and you stare at the lockers in front of you, eyes out of focus; not actually taking in what you were looking at. A few deep breaths later, you pull yourself together enough to move your feet, one in front of the other. Midwich Elementary School; possibly your favorite of all the entity’s destinations. You recognized your surroundings. This was the locker room. Leaving the second floor was your first goal. As you entered the hallway, a bright light flickered in your face. At the end of the hall, Jeff pointed to the room to his right. You jogged over to him, said brief hellos, and knelt down to work on the repairs together. Shortly thereafter, with little remaining progress, a faint heartbeat echoed in your ears. You peered around the broken wall; no sign of the killer. The generator dings to life and you decide to split up to cover more ground. Jeff drops through a hole in the bathroom across the hall, leading you to divert from your original plan and head toward the other upstairs classrooms. As you near the stairwell, your heartrate increases. Not from the unbearable sexual tension you had for Leon, but the killer was close. You see nothing down the hall to your left, which meant the killer was below you. You sprint ahead, trying to make as little noise as possible. To your dismay, you were detected. Feet heavy on the ground, your footsteps echoed around you. You tripped on something but were far too agile to lose your balance, and never fell. Before rounding the corner, you look behind you to see what terror you were up against this time. A human figure with a red stain; the Legion. Extremely misleading the first time you ran into them. Extremely. You dart left, breaking line of sight. The chemistry lab is your best bet. Dropping through the floor will most likely get him off your trail. To prevent leaving scratch marks, you slow to a brisk walk. Just as you thought you would evade the killer, something grabs you and you lurch backward. Before you could scream, a hand covers your mouth. Leon spins you around to face him and pulls you close. The two of you are pressed tightly together between lockers and a wall. Heart racing, for multiple reasons, you stare at the small space where the floor is visible. Confused, the red light was bouncing around, taunting you. All that was on your mind was the heat radiating from all the areas your bodies were touching. The sudden realization that Leon had his arms around you, protecting you, made you jerk your head back to look at him. His eyes, normally brooding, were instead intently locked onto you with, was that, adoration? You didn’t want to get the wrong idea, or make assumptions rooted in your own feelings. A gen on the other side of the school is completed, and you see the Legion vault a window into the courtyard, leaving the two of you alone in the hall. Although the killer was nowhere near you, your heart was racing, painfully. You were agonizingly aware of the recurring flush that filled your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, so you focused on his neck instead. So smooth and inviting. Every fiber of your being wanted to kiss it and bite it and moan his name into it. Your legs felt as if they would give way beneath you at any moment. You straightened your back to put more pressure on the wall behind you, allowing you to bend your legs slightly to prevent them from buckling under you. He had put himself slightly to your left as to

make sure he could block you from any attacks, if need be. If either of you moved forward so much as an inch, your legs would begin lacing together. Noticing how close your hips were to his sent a rush of heat to your crotch. Sick with suspense, you finally force yourself to look up. Before meeting his eyes, you analyze his lips. You craved them on your own. Your tongue on his; tasting each other.

“Y/n…” You’d never been turned on by your own name before. It was less your name and more the way it eased out of his mouth. Longing, impatient. Watching his lips emit your name made you crazed. You bit your bottom lip, wishing it were him biting it instead. Almost gasping for air, you take a deep breath and look into his eyes. Chills breeze over your body like a crisp fall evening. Muscles so weak you could barely move, you ease your hands around his waist, locking your fingers behind him. Your desire for him was borderline primitive at this point. If given the chance to pull him into one of the classrooms and fuck him right there on one of the desks, you’d take it without contemplation. Hell, you might initiate it in a second. Your pussy was throbbing, begging for him. You shifted your legs again, intertwining them completely. The pressure of his thigh on your clit sent electric chills through your legs to your toes. A short, pleased sigh escaping you drew his attention. His head eased forward slowly, sealing the distance between the two of you. His nose grazed yours and you gently nudged into it. You were panting in his face, which you would come to feel embarrassed about later. He continued forward until you felt his lips brush against yours. It tickled in the most satisfying way possible, like a flower against velvet.

“Yes,” you whispered against his lips, and just like that, every worry or care in the world vanished.

Softly, he pressed his lips to yours. It was electric to say the bare minimum. You took a staggered breath causing him to pull away. Your eyes shot open, darting wildly between his facial features, searching for any indication of regret. Instead, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls you into him. This time your lips met, they were ravenous. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth and bite down. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to cause him to let out a low rumbling moan into your mouth which sent you over the edge. Your non-dominant hand leaves his back and latches onto his gorgeous blonde hair. It was so soft in your fingers, like silk. You tilted your head and ran your tongue across the lip you still had trapped between your teeth. You released it which allowed Leon to open his mouth against yours and slide his tongue inside. Oh God, he tasted better than you’d imagined. Fleshy yet almost sweet, like the faintest hint of cinnamon. Your head was spinning and you felt light-headed from the stimulation (and the fact there was a good amount of blood in the lower half of your body). You were fixated on the fact that his saliva was in your mouth. You’d end up swallowing it, and vice versa. Your grip on his hair tightened and you let out a faint whimper. The combination made him growl with pleasure. His hands roamed your body briefly, coming to a stop at your waist. Seemingly effortlessly, he bent forward slightly, just enough to put his hands directly under your ass and prop you up against the wall, tongues still tangled. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting him to be even closer. You wanted, needed, him inside you. Given the new position, you could feel his engorged cock between your legs. You were almost- almost- concerned by the size of it. From what you could feel, he was well endowed. The hand on his back lowered to his ass cheek, which you graciously squeezed. You pulled him forward into you, just slightly at first, increasing the pressure of his bulge on you. You released and did it again. In any normal situation, you’d have never made a grown, fully clothed man grind on you like a horny pubescent boy, but these feelings for him had been pent up so long that they mutated from a sweet crush to full blown irrefutable lust. He caught on to what you were doing and abruptly removed his tongue from your mouth, leaving you confused and wanting all the more. His left hand came up to your chin and turned your head to the side, allowing him to press his lips to your ear.

Barely above a whisper, just a susurration, “You want me that bad, huh?” he taunted you. You were incapable of feeling embarrassment at the moment, brain flooded with desire. The warmth of his breath in your ear made you salivate. In a different setting, you would have begged to choke on his dick right now.

“Yeah? So what?” was the best retaliation you could think of in the moment. He chuckled; lips still pressed to your ear. The hand on your cheek traced your jaw and slid down to your neck. His slender, graceful fingers wrapped around your throat and gave it an intoxicating squeeze. Just hard enough to make you gasp but not hurt.

“I want to hear you beg for me,” his deep, warm voice filling your ear.

Your eyes shut and you tilt your head back in utter bliss, letting out a satisfied moan. He responded by nibbling your earlobe, which made you curse delightedly under your breath. Wanting to look at his irresistible face, you opened your eyes. Only, instead, you were greeted by eight beady black eyes peering down at you.

Snapping out of your drunken state, you blurt, “Oh fuck, Leon, the birds.”

He looks up to them with resentment and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Can we pick this up again later?” Ocean eyes begging you.

“You bet your fucking ass we’re picking this up later,” you demand before crashing your lips into his once more. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before the whole flock follows us.”

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Silver Lining masterlist

#dbd fluff #dbd smut #dbd fanfic #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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