#you are this lovely hazel in my head lol

[ijustdontlikepeople]

🌺vibe check moodboards🌺 @allsassnoclass

#hazel #you are this lovely hazel in my head lol #you are full of warm textiles like plaids knits and crochets #but also bits of gold and golden hour sunlight #the leather chair and the porcelain China filled with coffee really spoke to me too #hope u enjoy #oh also the older parchment #allsassnoclass #food tw #moodboard #vibe check moodboards #mb #annies edits #edit requests #🌺 #aesthetic

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #molly mumbles

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

x

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

x

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

x

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

x

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

x

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

#dark! hotd #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #got x reader #yandere got #yandere criston cole #yandere asoiaf #criston cole #criston cole x reader #obsessive criston cole #dark criston cole #ser criston #targaryen reader

[thelov3lybookworm]

Hiii!!!

I know that you have a lot of other fics to write but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head

So imagine the reader and Azriel have a daughter and she’s 3 and she has a crush on a boy in her daycare’s class, and when she got home with the reader, Azriel heard her talking about him to the reader, so the next day Azriel decides to pick her up from daycare and when he sees the boy, he’s just glaring at him

I don’t really know if this makes sense but overprotective Az is so🤭…

THANK YOUUU💗💗💗

Overprotective Bat

Summary: No one is allowed to talk to Azriel's Princess.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Anon, i love you soo much for sending this in. I loved writing it, i literally giggled when you sent this in lol

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

"And then what happened?"

Azriel's shadows became alert, rushing to crowd against the windows to watch as their favourite two people walked upto the door. Azriel smiled, putting away the report he was revising before he had to send it to Rhysand, getting ready to be bombarded with all the details from his daughter's- Hazel's- day at the daycare.

"Kaden asked me to play with him." The smile that appeared on Azriel's face when he heard his little princess's voice faded when he realised what she had said, and he stiffened, his hand hovering above his desk. He turned his head just slightly, wondering who this he was.

"And did you play with him?" The jangling of the keys sounded as Y/n opened the door, and their voices were louder when they next spoke.

"Yes mommy! We played hide and seek first, and the he pushed me while I sat on the swing."

Y/n hummed as Azriel began descending the stairs faster than his wings could have carried him.

"So you like him?"

Y/n's tone was teasing, and Azriel could hear Hazel giggling, but he did not like this conversation one bit, and he felt the need to stop it from progressing.

So he walked out, a huge smile on his face that was at odds with the way he was feeling.

"Daddy!" Hazel's eyes lit up, and her smile widened as she ran towards him, her arms splayed wide. Some of the tension in the spymaster's shoulders lessened, and he picked her up, clutching her wiggling body to his chest. He tried to kiss her cheek, which only ended up in her giggling loudly while trying to push him away because she thought he was trying to tickle her.

Y/n met Azriel's eyes and smiled wide, walking over to peck his cheek.

"I'm going to go and get changed, don't do something to get in trouble."

He huffed indignantly, meeting his daughter's eyes. "As if I do anything to get in trouble."

She giggled, clinging to him. he swayed a little, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he set her down. "Come, let's get you changed too."

Hazel nodded, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his finger. Her small fingers wrapping around his big, scarred hands always had an overwhelming amount of pride and joy coursing through him.

"So, what happened in your daycare today?"

And so began the onslaught of details from his little princess's day.

•○🌑○•

Azriel did not like going to pick his daughter up from her daycare, but only because he did not want to scare the other people who had come to pick their kids up.

But now his motive was exactly that as he stood right next to the gates, his wings tucked tightly to his back so no one could touch them.

And he would say he was succeeding in his mission. It was like there was an invisible wall surrounding him, and everyone tried to stay away from him. He just hoped the boy's parent was also in the crowd, so when they found out exactly who Hazel's father was, they would tell him to stay away from her.

Proud of himself and very nearly patting himself on the back, he waited for his little girl.

The door to the daycare opened, and all the children spilled out, running, giggling and screaming, across the playground towards their parents.

Azriel spied a head of hair the same as his, two small braids adoring her little head, and grinned slightly.

Though his grin vanished when he found her holding the hand of a boy, smiling and walking up to the gates.

The moment her eyes landed on him, she gasped, tugging on the boys hand while pointing, and Azriel could read her lips as she yelled, that's my daddy!

She let go of the boy's hand and ran- waddled, really- up to her father, who could not contain his smile.

He leaned down, his arms reaching out to grab her the moment she was close enough. She squealed as he hauled her up against himself, peppering kisses on every inch of her chubby little face.

"Did my princess miss daddy today?"

"Yes daddy!" Then, as if she just remembered, she turned her head and beckoned to the boy she had been holding hands with. The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at Azroel's huge form, his massive wings, his shadows. Azriel flared his wings a little just for the sake of it.

If possible, the boy's eyes went wider, and his steps faltered, meeting Azriel's eyes.

And Azriel knew that he was being an asshole, but he glared at the boy with no restraint.

The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, sprinting back towards the daycare, his hands held to his eyes to staunch the tears.

Azriel instantly felt guilty, and when his daughter turned to him with furrowed brows, he wanted to run to the boy and apologise. But before he could do anything, a voice spoke up.

"I am glad you feel guilty."

Azriel froze, glancing back at his mate sheepishly.

She shook her head, taking Hazel from Azriel, kissing her cheeks before setting her down. "I knew you had ulterior motives when you asked me if you could pick Hazel up today. You need to stop being such an overprotective bat."

Azriel kissed Y/n's forehead in hopes that she would let him off easy, but she glared at him when he pulled away.

"Mommy? Is Kaden angry with me?"

"No darling, he maybe just got scared. You can talk to him tomorrow and let him know there is nothing to be scared of."

Azriel couldn't stop the scoff that escaped him, and Y/n turned to stare him down.

"Sorry." He mumbled lowly before grabbing Hazel's hand. "Do you want to have some ice cream before we go home?"

Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but Hazel and her father were already running away.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

[shadowdaddies]

Please do the sequel to In Every Lifetime😍😍

welll I know I promised fluff but there's a lil angst first. But here's our happy ending for Azriel x Illyrian Reader💜 (this part is much shorter lol)

In Every Lifetime Pt. II

Azriel x Reader

Part One

Warnings: mentions of torture and death

A sharp pain along your shoulder blades drew you from sleep, eyes fluttering open to a dark room. You startled slightly as you heard the heartbeat beneath your ear, realizing you were not laying on a pillow but someone’s chest.

Looking up, you gasped at the sight of Azriel’s dark curls falling in his sleeping face. Memories came flooding back of your last days, the torture as you lost your wings, the sweet relief when death brought you Azriel. He was with you, in the next life as you had dreamed. But looking around, it was clear that you were in your bedroom in Prythian. Azriel’s hands had the same beautiful scars, your bedroom had the same quilt, the same books on the nightstand. 

In a frantic search of your surroundings, you sat up quickly, the pain in your shoulders turning blinding as you released a scream. Azriel shot awake, hazel eyes wide as he searched you for signs of harm. 

The itching burn along the insides of your wings was unbearable, your eyes watering as you attempted to spread the appendages at your back. Feeling the bones shift beneath your skin, you noticed the weightless feeling at your back. Your center of gravity was off.

One look at Azriel confirmed your worst fears. The image of your wings, shredded on display in front of you flashed in your mind. A scarred hand raised slowly, barely touching your cheek as he nodded, a wordless acknowledgment of what was lost.

A broken sob escaped you, arms reaching desperately towards your back. Jagged, raised scars the only remnants of that piece of your identity taunted you, your throat dry as the fractured whisper eked out of your lips. “My wings, I don’t have my wings.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his thumb brushing your cheek as tears fell down his face. “I know. I felt it,” he whispered.

“What do you mean, you felt it?” you questioned, confusion distracting you slightly from the pain and grief coursing through you. His eyes softened, Azriel sitting up against the headboard as he pulled you to his chest. You followed without question, that fae instinct craving the touch of your mate.

“The bond snapped for me, as you were... taken.” He paused for a long moment, a shudder passing through him as you felt his sorrow through the bond. Eyes widening, you looked to him as you realized. You could feel him, and he you. 

Azriel swallowed thickly. “The first thing I saw when the mating bond snapped was your wing being broken, and you being taken from me. I felt you, reaching out to me. I felt your pain, your fear, everything.”

Your tears were falling on his chest as you laid against him, arms tightening around Azriel as the horrors surfaced in your memories. “I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t know that you felt it. I thought you still didn’t know, about the bond,” you whispered against him.

Azriel stiffened slightly underneath you, his hands wrapping around your waist. “When did you know... that I was your mate?” he asked, tension lacing his tone.

You burrowed your head further into his torso, unable to meet his gaze. “It snapped for me in Hybern. When you rescued Elain.” As if a cold bucket of water was dumped on your head, realization hit. You were laying in bed with a male who was in love with someone else. Furiously, you pushed away, ignoring the dizzying pain as you moved to the cold sheets on the other side of the bed.

You and Azriel searched each other for a moment, confusion on his face and anger on yours. “I watched you give her Truth Teller. I watched you lust after her, the lingering touches, the inside jokes. Don’t tell me that you just left her because you feel guilty? We might be mates, Azriel, but I suffered for months so that you could be happy with whomever you choose. I don’t want your pity.”

Something akin to anger shone in Azriel’s eyes, molten gold swimming in his irises. “I was not with Elain. My heart belonged to you long before I even met her, and it will belong to you forever after.” His voice grew softer, kinder yet somehow more earnest. “I did not think that I could ever be worthy of a love like yours, of a female like you. For years I pined for you, while you saw me as nothing more than a friend. And when you shut me out after the war, I tried to move on. But I will never move on from you.”

Your heart swelled as the tattered bond which had tugged on your heart for months wrapped around it, what once broke you now making you whole. “You love me?”

Azriel moved to your side of the bed, taking your hands in his, gaze locked on you. “I love you. In this lifetime, and every one after.”

A broad smile stretched across your face, Azriel reciprocating in kind. “Let’s start with this one,” you whispered, softly pushing your mate against the bed as you leaned over him, lips brushing as you felt that electrifying warmth you’d heard about.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel angst #acotar azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #azriel #acotar series

[dykeomania]

PLS write smut for Hazel from bottoms..I need her so bad I fear..maybe like subtop!hazel..is her having a strap too far..I need her..

this is not. a full fledged fic. but this is the first time in a sec that ive let myself be inspired by an ask. this is weirdly switcher and just pure gay-sexier than it is subby!hazel. lmk if you want things to get subbier, bc i can probably do that. but for rn i have.. this image.. and i want you to walk with me on this but also hold my hand because i'm #supershy,

(minors [including 17 year olds 🙏🏽] dni fr, under the cut: not that proofread. strap lol (r!r), foul language, breeding... language... (my bad) (hazel has a strap tho), subtop!hazel except i could've made this shit so much worse so i guess switch!hazel but like, switch!reader, idk everyone's just a whore. there's an "i love you" (or.. multiple, i guess). there's a mirror. there's a vibrator. purely stream of consciousness, i don't even think the position they're fucking in makes physical sense fr. i was bored and i was thinking, so i wrote a lot. this whole thing is not realistic btw. i have very little confidence that hazel's blowing anyone's back out, but. it's my first day out in a min so i'm rusty. all respect to the community. next time when i pull up, i'll offer something a little more tame and saccharine as opposed to [exaggerated p*rnstar moans!!!]. reblogs and whatnot appreciated.)

so, i have this .. picture.

of you putting a bullet vibe in the pocket of hazel's strap before she fucks you from behind for the first time.

she eventually finds the confidence to blow your back out, and tbh, you think it's gonna end with you seeing stars because you can already hear the fucking lottery machines going off in your head. she's fucking you so well, and hazel's problem is that you're letting her know.

at first she thinks she's going crazy. but those fucking mewls into the pillow over how deep she is, how she's making you feel so good, how you've missed her so much, are sending shocks through her clit that the vibe keeps amplifying, everytime her pelvis hits your ass.

if she thrusts hard enough, which god knows she does, it almost makes her buckle over.

you're left clenching the sheets, and gasping against the linen while she fucks you, taking you in a way that's so uncharacteristically perverse that you don't even have the brain capacity to ask yourself why you didn't ask her to take you like this, sooner. her thrusts are quick and shallow, her words breathy and a little sharp. with every jolt of your body forwards as she experimentally blows your back out, it's like you feel yourself becoming more and more removed from this fucking planet. you can't help but cry -- sob, even -- as she makes you into a mess of limbs, leaving you tugging at your tits in one split second, and gripping at the sheets the next.

something happens, though.

where her hips rut into yours in deep, hard thrusts, spaced out by what feels like eternities, you can hear her. she's moaning now, breath quickening and chest rippling everytime her crotch hits yours at a particular angle. she's mewling, and unless you're hallucinating from how fucked up you are, you can hear her --

"fuck... f--uuh--ck, fuck, fuckfuck..."

-- silently beginning to whimper.

the girl goes from bullying your cunt to burying her strap deep enough in it to make the apex of its curve nudge against your g-spot, in a way that leaves your mouth hanging wide open with nothing spilling out of it maybe other than drool, but...

it's the slick warmth of hazel's back pressed nearly flush against yours and the heat of her breath against your shoulder that makes your eyes flutter open, facing your reflection in the floor-length mirror stationed across from hazel's bed.

hazel's in it so deep, you can't even see the strap anymore. and by no exaggeration, it's like an earthquake pulses through her body everytime she nudges her hips into your ass, making your vision blurry. she's rutting into you. greedily grinding her strap into your cunt in the effort of chasing her own high.

it wasn't a secret that hazel was sensitive. more often than not, the poor girl writhed against your mouth whenever she let you put it on her ("let you" is a loose sentence -- she begs for it, sometimes). you don't even know why you're surprised that your girlfriend is getting this close over having a bullet vibe pressed against her clit, hardly protected by fabric. "b--babe--"

what sounds like a plea, amongst the feeling of hazel's thighs trembling against the back of yours, inspires something sinister inside you.

you wind your hips against her, pressing back against the strap and the toy. the sight of your ass rolling against hazel's pelvis, combined with how good it feels is gonna actually, like, make hazel fucking--

"don't cum."

she loses her breath, entirely, and her rhythm, apparently. she slows, as if that was her body's instinct to obey your orders, despite the string of breaths that tumbles out of her mouth. "n-- wha-- fuck, no, nonono--"

you wind your hips deeper into hers, extracting a moan from your own throat -- fuck, maybe your gut, since that's how deep you could feel her. you press your ass into her until you feel the buzz of the vibe against folds, the frequency of it changing and humming as you press it further into her clit. "y--es," you grit. "don't fucking cum yet, hazel."

the dull, rolling vibrations through the fabric of the strap draw hazel's eyes into the back of her head, and then closed. she's grunting now -- or all of the above -- and she tries her best to unchap her lips, fruitlessly dragging over them. the little breaths she takes through them only brings them back to being puffy, pink, and a gateway of noise that gives evidence to struggle.

"gonna let me count you down?" you puff out your sentence in one breath, and hazel can fucking hear the grin in your still-fucked-out tone and it makes her whine louder.

"yeah? gonna fuckin' let me count you down so you can cum in me, haze?"

cum.. in you. three words that you'd never even fucking uttered to her before this, and that she never fucking thought she would ever hear and.. it looks like she can't complain, because her eyes roll into the back of her head and hazel swears that she -- at least, briefly -- meets jesus christ, "oh my god--," hazel slurs, hips rolling impossibly deeper into yours, it's a miracle she hasn't swabbed your cervix yet -- "ohmygod, oh my god--"

"three..."

ohfuck. ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck,ohfuck. it's the soft chorus that she whispers to herself as she starts to fuck herself into you, again, opting for thrusts as a means of trying to regain control with no consideration for your demise. the vision of her blurs in the mirror, and you feel your fists grasping at her sheets again.

"fuck--" you croak. "t--two.."

she pulls you further into her, and at this point, hazel's okay with being written off as a lost cause, 'cause fuck, it's not like she has a choice. the strap brief is soaked and it's entirely your fault, and god, she throws her head back. a mess of words, a mess of sensations, hazel just blurts, "oh my g--od--i love you--"

you burst out laughing at the random proclamation, admist everything.

she forces her head down to watch you, jaw hung open. and at this point, she's just speaking. rambling and slurring and gasping, tears-in-eyes-in-awe-and-all, as she watches you throw your ass back against her.

"iloveyou so much, you're so f--ucking hot, whatthefuck?--"

there's something weirdly sweet about it. something that makes your cunt clench around the strap in a way that hollows you out shortly thereafter, and lets hazel hit that fucking spot just right. before you know it, you're wherever hazel is, cunt fully creaming around the silicon.

"i love you--" you dumbly spit out a giggle, a gasp causing a steam of spit to cascade off your bottom lip and onto hazel's navy sheets. "babe," you warn. "ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggod, you're gonna make me cu---"

"fuckingsayone," hazel, unbelievably pleads while she unbelievably spears her strap into your cunt. "oh my fucking god, say one, please, please, pleaseplease--"

she starts begging. unprompted. "it's s-so good, it's so, so good, feels so fucking good, wanna c--um in you--" and she probably repeats it. probably repeats that she wants to cum in you until she's blue in the face and,

"o-one--"

until you let her.

the noise that's ripped from hazel's throat is .. embarrassing. virginal, almost. fully reverberates off the walls, and she trembles. her clit convulses against the vibe, twitching with every short stream of her release and she folds. poor girl was holding your hips for something -- for reassurance, to get a grip, dear life, perhaps? as her hips languidly fuck and press into the surface of your ass., rocking your near limp-frame after you've pretty much creamed all over her strap.

hazel hangs over you for god knows how long, dark hair shaggy and some strands stuck to her forehead in wavy wisps. cheeks flushed, and lower lip bitten to hell. the bullet vibe fucking dies, thank god almighty, because god knows she was not in any shape to reach down and turn it off.

she stays like that for a while, until she you feel her again. this time, only gentler, and much more like herself. soft hands caressing the skin of your back, her breath warm and shaky as she peppers a splay of kisses across your skin.

as you come from the surface of your own high, you feel yourself hum. still full of her, and dizzy with it. despite it, you manage -- slurring, slightly.

"haze?"

there's a hum, somewhere.

"did that really feel that good?"

hazel distantly nods, brown locks brushing against your back.

"uh.." hazel frowns, letting out a weak laugh. "y-yeah, honestly."

the mental note gets filed away somewhere deep in the haze of your brain and you grin, when you press your ass one against her just for shits and giggles and hear her gasp, from the sensitivity of it alone.

"that's my girl."

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #lesbian #wlw #lgbt #bottoms 2023 #merry fuckin christmas #i am logging out see you in like 12-15-35 hours

[zepskies]

A Crime of Passion

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

AN: I couldn't help myself lol. I wrote this last night. Here's a quick little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set directly after A Good Man Is Hard to Find!

Based on this request from @jessicalynnann.

Word Count: 550

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, fluff, and a murder (of sorts).

Catch up on the TMH-verse: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You just…you couldn’t stop laughing.

“All right, you done?” Beau asked.

You never thought you’d see this man blush so thoroughly. It made you laugh harder, though you tried to stifle it with your hands covering your face.

He had you laid out beside him, still skin against naked skin as the cool air began to dry your dewy bodies.

You were lying against him in an odd position, considering your bed now had a deep crack in the bedframe that ran all the way down the middle. It meant your legs were bent at an angle, almost like you were laying in a recliner seat.

You just couldn’t believe it.

This man had really broken your bed.

In fact, he murdered it. Killed it dead. Though you supposed it was a crime of passion, in this case. (You held in a snort at the thought.)

There were even a couple of screws that had rolled across the tile floor.

“Again, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll pay for a new frame,” Beau said contritely.

The truth was, he was embarrassed beyond belief.

Another giggle escaped you, though you tried to soothe him by caressing his cheek.

“Baby, it’s okay. This thing was old. I’m surprised it survived the move all the way from Chicago, honestly,” you said. The twinkle of mischief in your eyes made his face warm further.

“But how damn lucky am I,” you added, your lips curving. “My man quite literally shatters expectations when he makes love to me.”

And despite the unexpected cracking sound that had left you wide-eyed, it had been a spectacular finish. Even now, you were still tingling between your legs from how hard you’d come on his cock. (Twice.)

You slipped your bare leg between both of his and pressed a sweet kiss to his chest.

Beau fought it, but he had to smile at your words, and your affection. He sunk a hand into your tangled hair, first brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“You sure you’re okay then?” he asked.

“I’m more than okay,” you said. He felt the shape of your smile against his skin. You pulled back to meet his eyes. “Better the bed than my back, anyway. Jesus.”

Beau let out a sigh. Another giggle bubbled over and escaped you. You rubbed his arm.

“Think of it this way,” you said. “Now we can go pick out a new bed together.”

Beau tilted his head at that, and he nodded. A smile grew across his face.

“Now there’s an idea,” he said. It was probably too soon for him to broach the topic of moving in with you, but this could be a good first step.

“Right?” you replied in excitement. But there was something else dancing in your eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure the frame’s reinforced with titanium or something, because goddamn.”

Beau couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder while his own shook. You held him to you and didn’t bother to try and hide your own amusement anymore.

One thing you knew for sure?

There was no way in hell you’d ever let him live this down.

And one thing he would never tell you…

Beau Arlen was damn proud of himself.

AN: 😂 Well then. That was fun, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Take Me Home Masterlist

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Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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#A Crime of Passion #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen smut #Beau Arlen series #TMH-verse #Take Me Home #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fanfic #big sky #jensen ackles #big sky season 3 #jensen ackles characters #A Good Man Is Hard to Find sequel #zepskies writes

[danikamariewrites]

Meant to Be

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: I’m so excited to start this little series! I hope you all enjoy this and thank you for being patient with me. I know I’ve been all over the place lately lol. Also I might change the pov I use in the next fics but we’ll see.

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

As I’m just about to shut the front desk computer down, the glass door to the gallery swings open. Holding back rolling my eyes, I lift my head ready to tell whoever it is that we're closing. I stop, my lips partially open as my eyes meet the most gorgeous, soft hazel ones. On a beautifully sculpted face with a sharp jawline and soft raven hair. The words died in my throat. Changing to, “How can I help you?”

Gods I need to stop staring. If Feyre was still here she would be making fun of me for ogling the poor male while using my stupid customer service voice. He gives me a bright smile before speaking. “I’m looking for a new piece for my office. The walls are feeling a little bare.” Mother above he sounds like an angel.

I froze again. I’m technically not supposed to be selling paintings to clients, especially walk-ins and new ones. But my boss left me in charge for the rest of the day. It’s Gavin’s own fault he blew off work for a spa day. And I had to help Gavin list all the paintings, so I can absolutely sell one of these bad boys. I was amazed by how much Gavin didn’t know when these paintings came in. And he has the audacity to call himself an art collector.

“Absolutely. Are you looking for anything specific or I can show you a few of my favorite pieces if you’d like.”

As I stand I look around the room to see if anyone else is in the gallery. Two males with similar tan skin and dark hair stand by the door. The more muscular one slightly smirks at me before staring ahead again. I look back at the male in front of me, taking in his suit, the expensive watch, and the thick silver signet ring on his index finger gleaming in the light. Staring at the ring closely I can make out a family crest engraved on the flat surface. Morwood.

The male standing in front of me is notorious mob boss Azriel Morwood. Recovering quickly I smile up at Azriel, burying any kind of fear that was working its way up my spine. He isn’t here to hurt me. He’s here to buy art. Harmless.

Relaxing, I walk around the desk, gesturing to the left of the gallery. “This way then.” Azriel holds out his arm for me to take, that bright smile never once leaving his lips. Although it might not be the most professional thing to do, I loop my arm through his.

As we go from painting to painting Azriel seems to relax as well. We fall into easy conversation. At times it feels like we were childhood friends catching up. His flirtatious comments made me blush and fumble over my words. At the risk of being unprofessional again, I flirt back. There’s no denying the male is beautiful. I’m sure he’s kind under all of those dangerous layers. I can’t help the pull I feel toward him, to know more about Azriel. I should feel ashamed of this attraction. Azriel has done awful things but that feeling isn’t taking over.

“And that’s it for this collection. Is there anything else that’s caught your eye?” I ask, regretfully pulling away from Azriel as I snap back into my customer service voice. A stark contrast to the normal flirty tone I was just using. He seemed to take his time thinking. Azriel’s hazel eyes seem to twinkle as he looks at me. “That Blanch piece, I loved the two you showed me.” “Of course.” I lead him to the middle of the section where the two paintings hang side by side.

He looks at the two trying to decide between the two. “Which is your favorite?” I look at him, taken aback by Azriel Morwood asking for my opinion. “Well…I can’t choose between the two. Truthfully, I believe Blanch created these pieces to complement each other. They’re from two different collections but you can tell by the edge of the scenery they are meant to be together.” Azriel let out a thoughtful hum as he crossed his arms.

I try not to stare at him too blatantly but I just can’t help myself. His thinking face is cute. I can tell he’s concentrating. “I’ll take both.” My eyes widened. I'm so shocked I took half a step back. “I’m sorry?” I realize that it came out harsher than expected. “Sorry, I just - really? You want to buy both?” A half smile tugs at the corner of his lips as Azriel turns to face me. “If they are meant to be together it would be a crime to separate them.” There was something insinuating in that seductive tone of his. The hopeful look in his eyes gave it away. Something told me Azriel rarely let something like that slip. I give him a genuine half smile of my own. “Of course.”

Fifteen minutes and one giant check later Azriel had bought his paintings with the promise to come pick them up after they were framed tomorrow. Finally closing the gallery I went home and dreamed of him that night.

——

Walking down the sunny streets of Velaris I’m lost in thought about Azriel. How I want to run my fingers to see if those raven locks are truly as soft as they look. Those hazel eyes and how I never want them to lose sight of me.

My phone incessantly buzzing in my bag pulls me from my thoughts. I groan as I search for it in the clutter of stuff I threw in this morning. Fifteen texts from Feyre and more incoming light up the lock screen.

Girl get here soon

Gavin is piissseeddd

What did u do lmao

He won’t tell me, plz tell me so I know before him. I wanna taunt him with this secret info

Oh boy. He must not be pleased about the new client. I quickly type out a text telling her I’d be there soon. Shoving my phone back in my bag, my pounding heart seems as loud as my footsteps. I’m practically jogging by the time I enter the gallery.

Feyre looks up at me from the desk. A wild and confused look is on her face like she was just handed the winning lottery ticket. “He’s been on the phone with Benny all morning. I could hear him screaming, what did you do?” A nervous laugh sounds on the last word.

As I open my mouth to answer the door to Gavin’s office flings open, hitting the wall inside with a violent thud. “You!” He seethes. “Why didn’t you call me about the client last night?!” He screeches as he stomps over to the desk like a child. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sorry, come back later? It was Azriel Morwood.” Feyre lets out a dramatic gasp leaning back in the spinny chair. Her eyes bounce between us, waiting to see what wild statement her ears will be blessed with next.

“I know damn well who the client was, and you’re not supposed to make sales! Remember? Or has your sense of self importance around here made it hard for you to remember that you're a fucking intern! And you have no right —” a throat clearing makes Gavin stop his berating. His face went pale as his eyes landed on Azriel and the two males flanking him.

Azriel raises a brow giving Gavin a quizzical look. Gavin puts on a fake smile striding to greet our guests. “Hello Mr. Morwood! How can I help you today? Is there a problem with your purchase that I can fix?” He shoots me a glare that I don’t notice. All I notice is Azriel. It feels like the whole world has melted away and it’s just us.

“No.” His tone cruel and cold. “I would like to talk to y/n. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word by pinning Gavin with a look that would send anyone running. The shock on Gavin’s face is fucking priceless as he backs away murmuring an apology.

I slowly approach Azriel trying to suppress my grin. He watches me with a gentle gaze. That charming smile pulling on his lips again. “Hi,” Mother above that deep, gravelly voice gives me chills. “Hi.” I whisper back. “Your paintings should be ready soon. I saw the framer when I came in.” Azriel slowly shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, I’m here for the paintings. But I wanted to ask you something.” I blink up at him curiously tilting my head. What could he possibly want from me?

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel au #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader

[dulcewrites]

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.

New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.

Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

#a reader fic? yeah I know lol #this is short but I got this idea #aemond getting the pretty woman treatment lmaoooo #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fic #hotd angst #black!reader

[msmk11]

The Hufflepuff Code

James Potter x gn!Hufflepuff!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Use and discussion of weed, mentions of alcohol, light kissing, reader under the influence of weed, mentions of food and eating

Summary: You have a secret.... Or, at least, your Hogwarts house, Hufflepuff, does, and you can't tell your Gryffindor boyfriend James. Only problem is, your boyfriend is very charming and has an inclination for mischief. What could go wrong?

A/n: Hiiiii, I hope you enjoy! This work is vaguely based off the Harry Potter discourse on TikTok a few months ago, about what parties would be like in each Hogwarts house! Please don't take offense if you're a Gryffindor lol, I love them. Also, until I find a fancast for James Potter that I like (I imagine him as desi), I will be using ATJ.

Going to Hogwarts requires a lot of studying….something you are trying to do but failing, because a pair of hazel eyes can’t help but bore into your face. You double down into your books to avoid your boyfriend’s gaze, but his intensity only increases. He shifts from mute staring to pokes and silent whispers of your name. 

Finally, you snap your head up and look at him, “what?!” You whisper. 

“Just missed you s’all,” James says sheepishly. 

Your heart can’t help but melt a little, “sweetheart, I’m right here.”

“Yeah but you’re studying and not paying attention to me.” He whines. 

“Well, I did invite you to the library to study, not snog or make small-talk.”

James eyes light up, “oh that sounds like so much more fun. We should do that instead.”

“Sorry Jamie, as much as I’d love to, I can’t. Gotta study.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “fine. But I expect your full, undivided attention later.”

You cringe a little and guiltily avoid his sweet, beautiful face. “I-I’m sorry I can’t hang out later.”

“Baby,” he says rather loudly. 

You shush him a little and grab his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, I made plans earlier this week.”

The brunette pouts at you and shakes his head, his mop of curls falling into his eyes as he does so, “with who?”

“My friends-“

“Friends? What friends?!” Your boyfriends protests. 

You glare at him a little. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, “I just mean, what friends could you possibly be hanging out with instead of me? I mean, I’m the bestest friend.”

You kiss one of his hands intertwined with yours, “I know, sweetheart, you are. But I need a little non-boyfriend-friend-time sometimes, you know?”

“Well-uh I can pretend to not be your boyfriend for a night,” he disagrees, “I can gossip and, do whatever your friends do.”

You chuckle a little, “I know you can, and honestly, I’m sure they will be happy to have you in the future. But that’s not the type of hangout we’re having.”

“Okay, so then what are you doing?”

“Burying bodies, holding seances, the likes,” you tease, trying to avoid a serious answer. 

James just glares at you, not impressed by your jokes. 

“Sweetheart, don’t be mad,” you plead, bringing out your puppy dog eyes, “promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, dismissively waving his hand. “That I’m not concerned about anymore. What I really wanna know is what you’re getting up to tonight,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. 

You’re pretty sure his eyes peer into your soul, trying to unleash all your secrets. It makes you shiver and look down at your paper. 

“Oh you know, typical Hufflepuff things.”

“Hmmm?” He asks, shifting closer to you. “Like what?”

“Uhhh eating food, potting plants, being loyal.” You mumble out. 

He gets closer and lifts your chin to make you look at him. James, the bastard, knows the effect he has on you. Teasing you with your closeness, knowing his cologne drives you crazy, his eyes make you melt, and his lips leave you defenseless. He licks his lip a little and you slightly groan. 

“So you’d rather pot plants than spend time with me?” James asks quietly. 

Words leave you at this moment and you only stutter a little. You try to lean in for a kiss, the tension unbearable, but he pulls back. “Nuh-uh.”

“You don’t get a kiss for lying.”

You whine a little. “I’m not lying, I’m just concealing some of the truth.”

“Why, love? Do you not trust me?”

Your face softens, noticing the slight sadness in his voice. You grab his face and brush his dark curls away from his eyes. 

“No Jamie. It’s not that, it’s just- well it really is sort of a Hufflepuff thing. A code of conduct, you know?”

He furrows his brows, “uhh, not really, no.”

“Well, I’m sure Gryffindor has some traditions, right?”

James shakes his head, “well it’s sorta the same thing for Hufflepuff, just more secret.”

“But I won’t tell anyone” your boyfriend says softly, kissing your hand, “promise.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s not that I can’t tell you, it’s well, I can’t tell-“ you hesitate. 

“Who?”

“Gryffindors,” you say, quietly. 

Confusion clouds his pretty face, “what d’you mean you can’t tell Gryffindors?”

You cringe and pull away, “I’ve said too much already, sweetheart. Sorry, house loyalty.”

He scoffs, “what about loyalty to me?” 

“Don’t do that,” you tsk, “it’s really not that serious. Just silly house traditions, a little bit of rivalry, yeah?”

“Well then if it’s not that serious, just tell me,” he counters. 

You groan. He’s really not gonna give this up. 

“Fine,” you mumble. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

You gather your books and motion for him to follow. He stands up obediently and packs up his things before taking yours from you. As you walk down the halls, you find an empty classroom and push the two of you inside.

“You know if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes and slap his shoulder playfully, “pervert…just wanting to get in my pants.”

“Can’t help it when you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You hum in content and lean into the kiss, holding onto his arms gently. 

“Could keep you here all night,” he sighs against your lips, as his warm hands wrap around your waist. 

You huff in disappointment and pull away a little, “you know you can’t Jamie baby.”

“Worth a shot.” He sits down on a desk and spreads his legs a little, letting you stand between them, “so if I can’t convince you to skip this tradition, then tell me what it is at least. And why can’t Gryffindors know?”

You sigh a little, “okay, don’t get mad, because I didn’t decide this, remember, it’s tradition.”

James pauses and then shakes his head for you to continue. 

“So, basically, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw have this arrangement to have three annual parties. One hosted by Hufflepuff, one by Slytherin, and one by Ravenclaw.”

“And why not Gryffindors?”

You wrinkle your nose in awkwardness, “well…cause the other houses don’t really like Gryffindor all that much.” Before James can protest you add, “it’s not that we don’t like Gryffindors at all, it’s just, we don’t like when you’re all together. On your own or in small groups you’re fine. But in large party settings you guys get loud, and stupid, and well…..annoying. And, the other three houses got sick of it, so they decided to start hosting a few no-Gryffindor-allowed parties every year.”

James simply stares at you in silence. “And this has been going on for how long?”

“Uh, 20 years at least,” you say. 

The boy’s mouth drops, “and no Gryffindor has ever found out?!”

“Not really, no. We keep it super secret.”

James scoffs, “I mean, well that’s sort of ridiculous don’t you think? Hosting secret parties just to keep us out?”

“Look,” you say gently, grabbing his knee, “I didn’t say I agree or disagree. It’s just tradition. And well, I’m not gonna be the one to break it.”

“So what do you even do at these ‘parties’?” he asks with a huff.

“Well Ravenclaw hosts the first, in the Fall, a sort of poker, gambling game night, but with lots of booze. Very classy actually, typical Ravenclaw. And Slytherin hosts next, right before Christmas. It’s a sort of Christmas, bougie, boozie party. Very swanky and jazzy. And Hufflepuff, well, that’s the crowd favorite. Held in second term.”

The brunette raises his eyebrows in curiosity. 

“Basically we get a shit load of weed from our secret plant stash, and everyone gets high and eats food. We like, raid the kitchens before hand.”

“WHAT?!” James almost shouts. 

You put your hand over his mouth to quiet him. “Shhh, people could hear.”

He takes your hand off. “Hufflepuff has a secret drug stash?! And you hide it from us?!”

“I mean, why do you think we’re so happy all the time?” you say, laughing a little. 

“So you-but.”

Your boyfriend’s brain seems to malfunction, “damn, Hufflepuffs are druggies? My partner is a druggie?”

You let out a laugh, “I wouldn’t say druggie…just…plant-positive.” 

“So…there. That’s my secret. But you can’t tell anyone. I have my dignity to uphold.” You warn. 

“Can I at least come?!” 

“No! I’m not even supposed to tell you. Let alone bring you!”

“But-“

“No. Im sorry James, I don’t make the rules.”

“But I wanna get high…and see you high.”

“Well, another time.” 

Your tone was final, but James did not take it as such. Instead, he became more determined to find his way in to this mysterious party. 

*****

After making James promise to not impose, you left him behind in the classroom with a kiss and a lot of regret. On one hand, you had just broken so many Hufflepuff rules… if anyone were to find out, you’d be shunned for sure. On the other hand, you also felt incredibly guilty for leaving James out. Your sweet boy with his soft eyes and kind smile… but also his loud personality and pranks. You knew he’d never mean any harm, but the likes of him at this sort of party would not be welcome. He’s the definition of Gryffindor. And of course you love him for it, but you’re not sure your peers would. 

Back in your dorm, you throw your books down on your desk and then plop onto your bed. 

“Long day?” Your friend Emmeline asks. 

You groan, “terribly.”

“Good thing we have a chill night ahead of us,” she reminds you, plopping down next to you on your bed. 

“Touché Emmy. I’m very ready for an edible and a bag of flaming hot Cheetos.”

“Mhmmm, and those chocolate chip cookies from the kitchens?”

We both sigh in content. 

I can feel her staring at me. “Something’s wrong…”

You turn on your side and look at her, “yeah… I just, well, told James I couldn’t hang with him tonight because I had plans and I feel sorta bad… being all secretive you know? We don’t keep secrets.”

She hums in acknowledgement, “hmmm yeah, I get that. But I mean, it’s not like a bad secret y’know? Just tradition.”

“Which is what I told him but still..”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” She asks, slight mortification on her face. 

“No, course not,” you lie, turning back on your back. “Hufflepuff code n’all. Just hard having a Gryffindor boyfriend.”

“Yeah, babe, I know. But you only gotta lie a few times a year, he’ll never know the difference, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking this, I know.”

“Indeed,” the brunette answers, shoving your shoulders lightly. “Now come on, lighten up, we’ve got a fun night ahead of us.”

You smile and sit up, “yes you’re right.”

“Now, I know the vibe is obviously cozy, but I still wanna look cute y’know? What should I wear?”

You hop up and walk over to her closet. “Oh babe, you gotta do your yellow Hufflepuff sweatshirt. With your brown curls and pale skin, you look like freaking Belle from that muggle movie.”

She gasps, “a whole princess?! Wow, I’m flattered. And what about pants?”

“Leggings maybe? Something that makes your ass look good?”

“Take me to dinner first!” She squeals. 

You laugh a little and wink, “sorry baby can’t help it.”

Her shoulder length curls bounce a little as she shakes her head at you. 

You go into your own trunk as you strip off your school uniform and instead opt for black pajama pants and one of James’ t-shirts that has some muggle band on it. It still smells faintly of him and your heart aches a little at leaving him behind. You brush it off, though, when your other two roommates come in the room, grocery bags in hand. 

“We’ve got the goods!” Amelia and Trinity cheer. 

“My hot Cheetos?” You ask. 

“Course,” Trinity answers, rolling their brown eyes, “this isn’t our first rodeo.”

You squeal and peck them on the cheek before giving Amelia a hug too. 

“You guys are my favorite, you know that?”

“Better be,” Amelia huffs. “Otherwise we’d have words.”

You all excitedly chatter as you go through the groceries and get ready for the party. 

Trinity ends up in Ravenclaw blue, which looks fantastic against their dark brown skin. 

“Trying to impress anyone?” Emmy asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Hmmm, maybe a certain Pandora Lovegood?” Amelia quips. 

Trinity tries to hide a smile but can’t, “duh! She’s just so cute, especially when she’s high.”

“And Amelia? Trying to impress anyone?” You ask, scanning her dark gray sweater and black leggings.

“Nope!” She says, popping the p, “only here for me, myself, and I.”

You force everyone to gather on your bed and hold up your disposable camera, “smile everyone!”

You take a few photos, cute and silly, and then wander down to the common space. 

The common room remains mostly the same, besides a few added bean bags and blankets for comfort. 

A low, quiet base thumps in the background as people from all three houses lounge around. Amos Diggory, a seventh year, sits at the contraband table. 

“What can I do for you folks tonight?” He asks. 

Emmeline asks for a blunt, Trinity and I take an edible and Amelia shakes her head, motioning to her pen instead. We crash on the carpet, waiting for the weed to kick in. Everyone around us is laughing, chatting, and snacking, at different levels of gone. 

When Pandora walks in, Trinity waves and motions her over. She’s followed by a few of her friends, including Regulus, Rosier, and Crouch.

“Baby Black?!” You cheer.

He rolls his eyes as he sits down next to you. “I thought I told you not to call me that?”

You shrug your shoulders and pat his cheek, “yeah, but I chose to ignore you. I love how cute you get when you pout.”

He can’t help but blush a little and he softens. You have a way with that boy, and he with you. Surprisingly, you are very close friends. 

You turn and nod in acknowledgment to the other two, “Rosier, Junior. How’s it going?”

“Better once I’m high” Barty answers. He turns to his friends, “what do you want?”

They tell him and he stalks over, giving Amos a glare while he’s at it. 

“Always the delight he is,” Amelia teases. Her eyes are a little heavy, telling me the pen is already working. 

“So, Black? What brooding have you been up to recently?” Emmeline jokes.

You swat her arm and can’t help but giggle, maybe a little too hard. “Be nice.”

“Oh you know, just planning your demise” he answers with a smirk. 

“I’m the subject of your brooding?” Emmy fake swoons, “I feel honored.” 

You laugh again and hug Regulus around the neck, “am I ever the subject of your broodings?”

He looks at you with a small smile, “course. I think about killing you once a week.”

You gasp in fake offense and stick out your tongue. Barty, who’s back with the weed, hands Regulus a blunt. He takes it between his fingers and inhales. Then he looks at you and rolls his eyes again. 

*****

James Potter is usually good at keeping promises. However, he’s even better at making mischief. So despite his promise to you to not come to the party, he finds himself a little while later outside the Hufflepuff dorms, albeit hidden under the invisibility cloak. From outside, the hallway is quiet. Any passerby would be oblivious to the party going on within- must be a silencing charm. Unsure how to get into the common room, realizing you hadn’t told him before, he waits outside for someone to, unknowingly, open it for him. He, luckily, doesn’t have to wait long, as two unsuspecting Slytherins stroll past him and up to the barrels sitting outside. In quick succession one pulls out their wand and quickly taps it across the barrels. The brown barrels jump apart, revealing a door. As the two walk in, James closely follows behind, assuring he doesn’t remain locked out. 

Though you briefly explained the parties to James, his imagination far underestimated the reality. When you said all three houses went to these parties, you weren’t kidding. The place was packed, with every 4th year up from all three houses lounging around the badger den. The room was thick with smoke and reeked of marijuana. Students were everywhere, standing, lounging, laughing, eating, and even sleeping. Music played in the background, but no one was dancing, seemingly too high to really notice it. He scanned the room and found you in the thick of it all, seated on the carpet by the fireplace. You were with your dorm mates, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, and Trinity Taylor, and also a few Slytherins. He recognized them all actually, one being Sirius’ little brother, who he knew you were actually good friends with. Also Rosier and Crouch, who he wasn’t as fond of, and Pandora, the one Ravenclaw he sorta knew. 

Still hidden under his cloak, he weaves through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, afraid of getting caught. He throws himself into a corner by the fireplace, listening in on your conversation. 

“But Reggie, you’d look so cute with dyed hair!”

The Black boy scoffs at you, “yeah right. What should I go for, bright pink?!”

Your eyes light up as you giggle, “yes! And I’d start calling you baby…. pink? Instead of baby black, cuz you know-“ you giggle again, “your hair would be pink!”

Your words sort of slur together, not that you realize it, and so Regulus only nods, himself also struggling to comprehend what’s happening. 

“Wait, I think I have some dye, let me go get it!”

“Wait-“ Regulus calls out but you’ve already gotten up. 

James’ heart jumps as you come closer to him, weaving through the crowd on the carpet…

*****

As you stumble towards the stairs of your dorm you freeze. You could’ve sworn you smelt... James’ cologne…..

You shift backwards a little and sniff again. Sure enough, his fancy cologne, one you love but always tease him about, permeates the air. Either you’re really high or….

You suddenly fling your hand outwards to the left. Though there is nothing next to you, you make hard contact with something in the air, and hear a small “oof” from next to you. 

A chill runs down your spine and out of the corner of your mouth you mumble, “James. My. Room. Now.”

You don’t bother to hear an answer, knowing he’ll follow you like a lost puppy. 

When you’re in your room you shut the door firmly behind you and whip around “James- what the hell.”

Your boyfriend appears before you, taking off the invisibility cloak sheepishly. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t fucking hey baby me. What are you doing here?” You slur together. 

“Uh, missed you?” He says hesitantly. 

Your nose flares and you stalk towards him. “You. Fucking. Missed. Me?!” Each word is punctuated with a smack to his chest.

You don’t realize in your unsober state how hard you’re hitting him or how loud you’re talking. He tries to minimize his flinches as he grabs your hands and holds them together. 

“Love I-“

“What? Wanted to risk me getting shunned?! Jamie I asked you not to come! I trusted you!!”

“I know lovie. I’m sorry, I just got jealous… and curious. It’s no excuse I know but…”

You huff and throw your head in your hands. It’s spinning for more than one reason, and the weed keeps you from thinking clearly. 

“We’ll talk later. You, just stay here with your cloak, yeah?”

He sighs and nods.

His sad puppy dog eyes get to you and you soften a little, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. 

You then walk towards the door and open it, only to find the whole of Hufflepuff standing outside your door, staring in shock. 

“You, you broke tradition!” Amos Diggory yells, pointing at James. 

“I- well- shit” you mutter. 

“This is like, breaking the law,” another Hufflepuff argues. 

You feel tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry guys I- uh.”

“Wait,” your boyfriend says. 

Everyone goes quiet. 

“It’s not their fault, honest.”

No one seems to believe him. 

“Look, I got suspicious of what they’re up to, so I followed them, with my invisibility cloak on. Swear!” He even holds up the cloak, demonstrating its invisibility. 

Everyone gasps, “no way, that’s fucking sick.”

“Please don’t punish them because I’m stupid and nosy! Please!” He pleads. 

Diggory turns to the head prefects of the other two houses and quietly confer. After a few minutes of quiet whispers, Diggory turns back. 

“Fine, fine, you’re off the hook,” he says to you. 

“And as to you Potter, well, I guess you’re officially inducted into our little secret now. We can’t have you going around spilling. And I swear, if you tell any one of your little Gryffindor friends, all three houses will rain hell. Understood?”

Even you turn to James and raise your eyebrows. He really does feel a little threatened and nods. “Uh, yeah. Course.”

Diggory claps his hands together, “great! Well then, get Potter some weed.”

As everyone files out, James turns and looks at you nervously. 

“Well?”

“You heard the man, let’s go get you some weed.”

“Okay, just- wait.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you flush into his chest. 

He kisses you deeply, “love you, baby.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the maruaders

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the babbit masterpost

HELLO welcome to the Babbit's Blog masterpost!!! On this post you'll find some fun facts about yours allegedly (me <33), some ref's for my different 'sona's, and a couple links to my fics and whatnot! Are you ready? No?? Excellent neither am i let's do this

Meet the Babbits!: the self-inserts/personas

the first ref is for my general/most commonly used persona, Babbit! They aren't really an anthro/furry as much as they are a humanoid with the head of a rabbit. I like to think of this one as the 'me' that's in my head- the purest form of my thoughts and feelings, but not the solid real-life me. The second ref is my self-insert persona, Rabbit, the one i picture using most often when i'm reading a fic or imagining a self-insert scenario lol. This one is like the me that people see and meet and speak to in real actual life, if that makes sense. It's the way I come across to people and all of the things I wish I could iron out of my crumpled up real-self <3 The third is a much more specific 'sona, Hazel, who started off as a FNaF:SB animatronic self-insert. She does have a backstory and lore now, which i think makes her more of an OC than a self-insert, but a lot of her is still me and a lot of what she experiences in her backstory is from my life/instills the same feelings that were taken away from things that happened to me, so I think she kinda counts enough to put a ref for her here sdkjfsdhfj (Why the different names?: makes things a little easier, and they hold meaning to me symbolically, I guess!)

Content!: Here's a short list of my various fics that will get updated as I create more! (it was, in reality, not fine.): FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader fanfic, gender neutral, for general audiences, fluff-fest, idiots to lovers "You're the new tech/repairman at the Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex, unfortunately. Your first task? To make the Daycare Attendant into two separate animatronics. It's an amazing opportunity, really, and there is nothing you love more than getting a chance to really work with such tech! The only bad part is that you don't know how to tell anyone that you just might be in over your head. (You are extremely in over your head.)" After Everything Was Fixed (but you were still broken): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x (Animatronic) Reader, gender neutral, read with caution, angst, harm to sentient robots, traumatized main character, hurt/comfort slow burn, romance slow burn "The virus was gone. Everyone was fixed. You had been put back together. It's a time for a new beginning, to do things right this time, to wash away the past and paint a better future. Their memories of the infection had- mercifully- been taken away from them. Yours had not. He doesn't understand why you try to avoid him. Even if you could tell him, you're not sure you would. You want to be his friend, but it's difficult; every time you see him, you remember the hundreds of times he killed you." A fic where you are a repairman-themed STAFFbot, taking place post-virus. In the past, Moon, infected by the virus, took delight in attacking and dismantling the reader during the night. Now, in the present, you find yourself burdened by the memories of the past while everyone around you has no recollection of the events. It gets more complicated as Sun and Moon, both now cleared of the virus, grow curious of you. This fic will follow a series of arcs, presently on arc one. For anyone curious, feel free to send an ask about the arcs in 'After Everything Was Fixed'! The Sun, the Moon, and the Blazing Comet (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Reader, gender neutral, teen and up audiences, travel/journey, betrayal, hurt/comfort slowburn, reconciling, themes of breaking the mold, found family (TBA) Hold My Broken Hands (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader, gender neutral, mature audiences, dark romance, dark comedy, severe bodily harm, mutilation, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, lovesick (TBA)

My AU's!: i'm going to make a Babbit-AUs-Masterpost and then put the link here i swear, i just have so many im sorry jdfhsjdfhs (like more than twenty)

Fandoms!: I enjoy, have been in, made or make content for: Pokemon Undertale FNaF Creepypasta (YEAH I KNOW LET ME LIVE OKAY) My Little Pony (I KNOW OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE) Steven Universe Star Trek Warrior Cats i'm sure theres more but i just forgot everything i have ever liked wheeeeeze

Whomst the hell?: HI I'm Rabbit! Or Bones! Or Babbit! Or Avarice/Ava, if you want to go for a more legitimate-sounding name. I'm 24 years old, prefer to use they/them pronouns, and so, so incredibly ace. I've been drawing as long as I've had the ability to hold a pen, writing since I was in grade school, and being a plague to the ones around me since the beginning of time! If you've seen my art, its probably from the absolute mountain of fluffy-wuffy love-dovey (y/n) x Sundrop/Moondrop/Eclipse doodles I've been sharing for several years now sdfjhsdj. If you've heard of my fics, it was probably the one I made just for fun that's now turned into an actual fanfiction that I enjoy writing, the silly-lovey-fluff incarnate (it was, in reality, not fine.) !

Likes n Dislikes!: I'm a sucker for sap, fluff, and lots and lots of love-dovey bullshit! I also like stories about finding oneself and monsters being befriended or loved. I like space, aliens, robots, the odd and strange, injecting humanity into things not human, monsters, creatures, animals, the fae, concepts of spirits and karma and the afterlife, and more! I dislike 'fanservice', most anime tbh LOL it's not personal I just don't enjoy it im srry, FLY BABIES i know they have an actual name but i hate that word too pls just dont i will scream, sexually aggressive/forceful content/characters, being made to feel small, dumb, or trapped,

Other!: I have a pretty high gross-out tolerance! I also have a pretty high 'wow that's messed up huh' tolerance, in that sometimes I will just say stuff that's super grim or dark or messed up and not realize it lmao. I am full of random facts and anecdotes, especially weird or gross ones! sometimes i get on tangents that can go for actual hours so pls forgive that lol

WARNINGS: THIS BLOG MAY FEATURE CONTENT BASED ON/RELATED TO THEMES OF GUILT, CHILDHOOD LOSS, GRIEF, SELF HATRED, DISCONNECTION FROM REALITY/SELF, TRAUMA, AND SEVERE DEPRESSION/ANXIETY. YES I AM GETTING HELP. YES I AM OKAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING.

bonus persona: crybaby

#meet the artist #meet the blogger #about me #self insert oc #oc persona #about the author #about the blogger #meet the babbit #oh shit its babbit #babbit lore #the babbit masterpost #oc reference #self insert reference #oc ref sheet #art ref #oc babbit #babbits ocs: babbit #babbits ocs: rabbit #babbits ocs: hazel #hazel the happy hare #fnaf oc #babbits ocs: crybaby #bones of a rabbit #links #babbit masterpost

[sleepyhutcherson]

those eyes, that mouth

peeta bakes you cinnamon rolls but can’t fight the urge to feed you…

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: food play… not sure if it counts? established relationship, fluff, reader is feeling down at the beginning but yk nothing really mentioned, not necessarily nsfw but he feeds you and has you suck the frosting from his fingers… lol.

a/n: have this short thing i wrote whilee i struggle getting to my requests aaannd part two of know it’s for the better <33 alsoo first time writing for peeta!! i feel like this blog is mostly mike and derek but istg i have a lot of requests for more jhutch characters so i’ll be bringing in more josh futterman and billy content !!!

You weren’t feeling too well, Peeta had noticed the frown on your face the moment you woke up. He pulled you closer to him, your eyes meeting his as the early sun cleared Peeta’s usual brown eyes to a tender hazel tone. “What’s wrong, honey?” He asks, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand.

Honestly? You weren’t sure what was wrong, you woke up with a heavy feeling in your chest, a familiar sadness weighing down on you. You nuzzle your face into the crook of Peeta’s exposed neck, you hear him giggle softly at your actions. “I don’t know,” your words are muffled against his warm, precious skin. “I just feel a little down.” You admit with a bit of shame.

Peeta continues to rub your bare back comfortingly, his chin resting above your head. “Do you want to stay in bed a little longer?” He asks, his tone soft.

You nod a little, peppering a few small kisses on his neck—your way of thanking him for understanding. He stays with you, humming some made up tune to fill the silence in your shared bedroom, rubbing your back Right as you were drifting back to sleep you felt him pull away, a small whine escaping your lips making him chuckle softly.

“Please don’t go,” you mumble, half asleep. You don’t have enough strength or energy to pull him back down so he’s up before you know it. He pulls on a pair of pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, all while staring down at the lovely sight of you trying to stay awake, your eyes half lidded. You were so adorable.

He leans down, planting a loving kiss on your forehead all while smiling. “I’ll be back,” he whispers, assuring you even if you already passed out.

—

You wake up hours later to a rainy scenery outside, droplets of water hitting your bedroom window threateningly. You can’t help but feel a strange comfort in the gloomy weather; oddly enough, you were feeling just a little better—well, better than you were feeling in the morning. You took notice of the extra blankets that you were tangled up in, you smiled knowing Peeta had draped them over you sometime while you were asleep.

“Feeling better?” Your head perks up at his voice, you could practically hear the smile in his words. You sit up and you’re greeted with a lovely sight: a smiley Peeta wearing a dark brown knitted jumper, a smudge of—what you assume is—flour on his forehead and a warm scent of cinnamon following him in. Your eyes follow down to a porcelain plate in his hands with a freshly made cinnamon roll, your stomach growls at the sight.

You nod. “Much better,” you reply, ogling the pastry.

“Eyes up here,” he teases, but there’s something so demanding about his tone—even if it’s lathered with his usual gentle tone—it’s difficult not to find it hot. You meet his eyes and he smiles with satisfaction, making his way towards you, sitting beside you on the bed. He sets the plate down at the night stand, his hands free to caress your face, holding you so delicately. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He rubs your cheek with his thumb, his eyes taking the sight of you. You were so beautiful to him, so precious. You could see it in his eyes alone just how much he loved you. A shade of pink tints your cheeks feeling flustered by having Peeta’s eyes on you for this long. He was taking his time, as he always did when it came to admiring your beauty. “Those eyes…” he whispers, his eyes boring into yours, “such pretty eyes.”

You feel suddenly shy at his compliment, ducking your head slightly, trying to hide the deeper shade of pink you probably are now. He lifts your head up to look at him, his pointer under your chin as he gently forces you to meet his eyes. “Hungry?” He asks, his eyes trailing down to your lips with such hunger. You nod, too overstimulated to use your words now.

He reached for the cinnamon roll, he knew how much you loved the warm bun, especially when it was made by him. He holds it there for you, there’s no fork, he glances up at you and you see this sudden lust in his eyes…a small smirk on his lips. He sets the plate down between you two, his hands reaching down to rip a piece of the warm bread for you. It’s warm and sticky against his fingers, he brings it up to your lips, holding it just a few inches away from you. “Open,” he instructs, trying to keep a stern tone. You do as told, slightly opening your mouth, and he nearly melts at the sight. “Oh, that mouth…” he says breathlessly. He feeds you the tasty roll, watching you slowly eat it and it’s such a gorgeous sight seeing you eat.

Once you’ve swallowed the small piece he brings up the whole cinnamon roll up to you, you giggle softly. “Big bite,” he whispers with an eagerness to his tone you can’t miss. You slowly inch closer to him, looking up at him as you gradually take a bite of the cinnamon roll all while keeping your pretty eyes interlocked with his. He lets out a pathetic moan at the mere sight.

You giggle softly, chewing on the chunk you bit off. Peeta reaches up to wipe the bit of frosting off from the corner of your lips. Then an idea occurs to him.

With his pointer finger and his middle he dips the two into the middle of the cinnamon roll, the white glaze coating his long fingers. He makes sure to get enough on them—enough to keep your mouth on his fingers for long. You watch him with hunger, wanting his fingers in your mouth now so desperately.

His fingers come up to your lips, moving his digits covered in the sweet icing around your lips, swiping them slowly. Your lips are now covered and Peeta can’t help but think of how similar the white glaze looks like…

“Open, sweetheart.” He commands eagerly, so mesmerised by the sight of you. You do as told, parting your lips, giving him access to your mouth.

His fingers enter your mouth, the icing tasting so good on your tongue or maybe it was Peeta’s fingers. Your eyes are locked with his as your lips wrap around his fingers, a grin on his face. “Suck,” he says more sternly now and you obide sucking all the sweet icing from his perfectly long fingers, lewd sounds filling the room now and fuck does Peeta almost get off from the sight alone. “So good,” he moans breathlessly as you continue to work your mouth on his fingers, attempting to clean them off from the stickiness.

You pull away with a pop! sound that makes Peeta weak. He pulls you in immediately craving your lips—a taste of you. His hands are pressed up at the sides of you face, crashing his lips into yours with a force he’s never really used before but God was he so fucking hungry for you right now. He tastes the glaze on your lips, the desire and lust all over your mouth.

“Mm’you taste so good, sweetheart.”

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark comfort #thg peeta #peeta mellark smut #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark angst #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt smut #mike schimdt x you #josh hutcherson fluff

[mamaestapa]

I haven’t seen anyone do anything like this but what about a dad Joe blurb but they have teenagers?

Rough Night|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: Joe is in charge of being home with your four teenage children while you’re out with friends…

•warnings: some fluff, teenagers, angsty teenagers lol, mentions of periods, and dad joe which isn’t a warning bc we ❤️ dad joe

“DAD!” Hazel bellowed from the top of the stairs. Joe sighed and put his protein shake down on the counter. “Yeah?!” He shouted back.

The seventeen year old huffed out a sigh before her heavy footsteps were heard running down the stairs. His daughter walked into the kitchen wearing an annoyed expression as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Mom said I could go out with Charlie tonight.”

Joe’s eyes widened as he laughed in disbelief, “Absolutely not.” Hazel rolled her eyes and plopped down on a barstool. She was not happy with her dads answer.

“Why not?” she pouted, “Mom said it was fine.” Joe shook his head at his daughters words. “Well your mom isn’t here right now, which means that I’m in charge. No boys.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed, “this is so unfair. Josie is out with her boyfriend.”

“Josie is also nineteen and doesn’t technically live at home anymore. You do, young lady.”

Hazel crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out another sigh. She loved her dad, but she didn’t love his rules when it was just him at home with her and her siblings. They could have friends over, but no boyfriends. And they absolutely could not leave the house—unless it was planned in advance. You didn’t necessarily have these same rules as Joe did with your kids, but you knew he was doing it to be a protective father. Joe values his privacy, especially when it comes to his family. He only has these rules in place because he wants to protect his kids.

“Dad,” Hazel gave Joe a pleading look, “can I have Charlie over here?” Joe shook his head as he opened the fridge to get a bottle of water. “No.”

“Fine.” Hazel sighed in defeat. As Hazel slouched down in the barstool, a loud screech came from upstairs. Joe slammed the fridge shut and looked at Hazel with furrowed brows. Hazel just shrugged and turned her attention back to her phone. Joe rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath as he left the kitchen and jogged up the stairs. He heard an annoyed groan come from his fourteen year old daughter Ivy’s room. Her door was cracked open, and she had her hand on the top of her dark blonde wavy hair as she paced around her room.

“Shit. This is the worst day of my life.” Ivy groaned out. Joe frowned slightly, wondering what possibly could have happened to his daughter to make her this worked up over the day. Joe brought his fist up to the door, knocking softly.

“Hey sweetie, you OK in there? I heard you scream.” Joe said softly, his voice laced with concern. He heard Ivy sigh from the other side of the door before she replied.

“It’s nothing, just,” she opened the door, making eye contact with Joe, “just go away dad.” Joe frowned as he looked at his daughter. Ivy stayed silent as she huffed out a sigh. Her chin suddenly started to quiver as she made eye contact with her dad.

“What’s wrong, Ivy?”

The teens chin wobbled even more before she dried her eyes and groan in frustration, letting everything out to her dad.

“I got my period today, and I bled through so now my favorite pair of jeans is ruined. I had to throw them away, and on top of that, my physics grade just went down to a D today.”

“Oh.” Joe’s face dropped as he gulped. Even if he wasn’t freaked out by it, you were always the one that helped the girls in this department.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. Joe knew he had to be supportive for his daughter. He has three daughters and a wife, so he’s a pro when it comes to periods. “I can help you with physics sweetie, don’t sweat it.”

Ivy nodded, sniffling softly, “Thanks dad.” Joe smiled softly, “Of course. Can I get you anything? Heating pad, ice cream, anything?”

Ivy shook her head, she was thankful for her dads offer, but she declined. “No, I just want to be alone right now. But thanks dad, I appreciate it.”

Joe nodded, walking forward to engulf his daughter in a hug. Ivy instantly wrapped her arms around her dad, squeezing him gently. A hug from him always made things better. She thanked him again and Joe left the room, the letting his youngest daughter be by herself for the time being. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he went back downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw his son Jace sitting at the counter and chowing down on leftover pizza. Joe smiled as he saw his son. He walked up behind Jace and ruffled his blonde hair.

All of the girls resembled you the most, with Hazel being your “twin”. But Jace, Jace was a carbon copy of Joe. Jace was your “oops” baby. Your “oops” baby that looked exactly like Joe. He always has, even when he was just two days old. Now, at almost thirteen, Jace still looked just like his father.

“Hey J.” Joe greeted his son. Jace smiled up at his dad, swallowing his mouthful of food. “Hey dad.” He responded, “want a piece?” Joe shook his head and sat down next to his youngest. “You enjoy.” Joe looked around the kitchen, noticing that Hazel was no longer sitting at the barstool she was at earlier. He pointed toward the empty seat. “Where’s your sister?”

“Up in her room calling Charlie and sulking about not being able to go out with him.”

Joe just chuckled in amusement. Of course she was sulking about not getting to see her boyfriend for the fifth day in a row. Joe looked over at his son, reaching out to pat his sons shoulder as he said, “Enjoy your pizza. I’m going to go watch some film, you can join me if you want.”

The boy nodded eagerly, wiping the crumbs from his hands as he stood up from the barstool and followed his dad into his film room. Jace was always up for watching film with his dad, especially since he was quarterback just like Joe. The two sat down on the couch and got comfortable as Joe set up his most recent watch. Joe and Jace were watching film for about a half hour before you got home from your friends birthday party. You walked into the house, greeted by a messy house, but a peaceful silence. You smiled to yourself as you heard Joe’s voice coming from his film room. He was explaining the play in great detail to your son Jace.

You walked into the room, greeting your husband and son with a soft hello. Joe glanced up at you, a wide grin on his face as he greeted you. He moved over so there was room for you on the couch too. You sat down between him and Jace, resting your hand on Joe’s thigh as Jace wrapped an arm around your torso to give you a brief hug.

You chuckled as you noticed how Jace’s blue eyes never once left the screen. You gently squeezed Joe’s thigh and looked up at him. He seemed a little tense, you could tell he must’ve had a rough night with your teenagers. Joe looked down at you, immediately softening under your gaze.

“Rough night?” you asked, voice soft. Joe chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your thigh, “You have no idea.”

You smiled in amusement. As much as you love your teenage girls, they can be quite the handful sometimes.

“I’m just glad you’re home.” Joe said with a smile. You returned the smile and leaned your head on Joe’s shoulder as you watched film with your boys.

You couldn’t wait to hear about how the night went from your girls in the morning.

hey loves!!

dad joe blurb to start the night! i thought this was a great request anon. i usually write dad joe with infants or young children, so writing dad joe with teenagers was definitely different for me!

i hope you all enjoyed this one, there’s more coming later🤍

also, should i start making a taglist for blurb night?? i’ve thought about it, but i’m not sure

as always, feel free to send me blurb ideas!! i may not get to them tonight of course, but i will for future blurb nights!

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow blurbs #dad joe #blurb night!

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 1 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: five years ago, pregnant and alone, you left boston after a fallout with joel but when he shows up in jackson, you have to deal with the aftermath. word count: 1.4k warnings: angst (loads), mentions of pregnancy, non-specified age gap, (please let me know if i missed something!) a/n: this is my first time writing joel so pls go gentle on me lol I am planning on making this a series if u guys like it! let me know :) i know joel is usually pegged as a girl dad which i love but i thought it would be fun to write a mini joel! this isn't edited so i apologize for all mistakes. also i am taking requests now so ask away! masterlist ask box what i write taglist signup

You hadn’t anticipated seeing him. When you left the Boston QZ five years ago after finding out you were pregnant, you never wanted to see Joel Miller’s face again. Not after you broke the news and he told you to get out - that he wanted you gone. Tess had told you to give him a few days to cool down and let the news sink in, so you did. You waited a couple days, which turned into a week and another and once a month passed, you realized you couldn’t wait around for Joel to get his head out of his ass so you packed up and left Boston. You had heard rumors of settlements out West and took the chance of going to one. It was a risky move, especially being pregnant, but raising a child in the QZ was impossible. Bringing a life into this world alone was cruel but if you could make it to one of the settlements, you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And you did. After months of traveling and close calls, you made it to Jackson. You couldn’t believe how close to normal it was there. It felt like before the outbreak which felt impossible but somehow they did it. You made friends and had support when you finally delivered. 

Little Jack came into the world with the helping hands of Maria and your friend Avery. You named him after Jackson, the little community that welcomed you with open arms. He was absolutely perfect and as he grew, he looked more and more like Joel. It hurt you that Joel wasn’t here to see his son grow but he had made his decision the day he told you to leave. 

The life you built in Jackson was good enough. You taught at the small school in the morning and spent the rest of your day with Jack and your friends. Every so often you went on patrol but with Jack, you had to find someone to watch him. Avery offered to keep him for the afternoon while you went out with Maria and some others for a quick patrol. Someone thought they heard gunshots going off and your group was sent to check it out. You thought you would come across some raiders or maybe a couple stragglers but what you weren’t expecting was to find Joel Miller and some random kid. It didn’t surprise you that he was looking for Tommy and you watched for Maria’s reaction when he told her his name. 

In Jackson, Joel’s name wasn’t a popular one to those who heard it. Tommy had recounted the days that he, Joel, Tess and others had spent that still gave him nightmares and you didn’t have many good things that you shared about him. You kept the good things to yourself and only let yourself think about them on nights you were particularly lonely or sad. She hid her reaction better than you would have but you were a little surprised when she invited them back to town. As soon as you got back, you went straight to the stables to drop off your house before going to pick up Jack from Avery’s. You wanted to just go home but he fought you tooth and nail to go to the dining hall to see Hazel, an older woman in Jackson who was the first person to take you in when you first arrived. She treated you like a daughter and in turn, treated Jack as a grandson. 

When you got there, Hazel was delighted to see him and you couldn’t help but smile when Jack squealed and ran straight for her. Watching them, you felt a set of eyes on you and when you looked, they met Joel’s. As usual, his expression was impossible to read. He was sitting with the girl, Ellie you’d briefly heard, along with Tommy and Maria. 

“Some new folks, huh?” Hazel asked, breaking you out of your daze. She knew the story about Joel so you were hesitant to tell her who they were but she would find out eventually.

“Yeah, Tommy’s older brother and the girl is Ellie,” you told her, “apparently they traveled all the way from Boston.” 

You watched as the realiztion slowly dawned on her face, hiding an amused smile when she said, “where’s my shotgun?” 

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure her, “I don’t think they’re staying.” 

She huffed, “I should’ve poisened that food.”

You shook you head, taking Jack when he reached out to you. He was getting sleepy, resting his head on your shoulder and babbling nonsense. You could still feel Joel’s gaze, so you told Hazel you would see her tomorrow and started walking out when you heard your name called.

Tommy. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was, he knew your past with Joel so you took your time walking over to where the four individuals were seated. Maria was giving Tommy a dark look and you knew she didn’t agree with his interfering. 

“Hey,” you said lightly, trying to ignore Joel’s eyes that were now focused on Jack. Ellie was looking between you and Joel and you could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. 

“I was wondering if you had time to take Ellie to the house next to yours and let her have a shower? Maybe find some new clothes?” Tommy asked and held his hand up when Joel started to argue. 

“Sure,” you said, motioning for her to follow you. She gave Joel one look before following you out the door. It was cold and you hugged Jack, who was now asleep, tighter to you. She was silent until you were a couple minutes away from the house, whistling. 

“So, I take it you and Joel know each other?” She questioned, walking faster to keep up with you. You wanted to drop this kid off before she accidentally got answers out of you. She continued pestering you after you just shrugged and you wondered how Joel, of all people, managed to make it from Boston with the girl. She seemed sweet enough but lord, she was chatty. 

“What’s his name?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping boy in your arms as if there was another child around.

“Jack,” you told her and she smiled.

“Like, Jackson?” 

“Nice catch,” you praised and she grinned. 

You showed her to the shower, before searching for some clean clothes. It took a few trades but you managed to get her some fresh clothes and a new jacket. When you returned to the house, you ran into the one person you were hoping to avoid. He froze when you walked in the front door, clothing in hand and Jack still on your hip. Your back was aching from carrying him but he was unusually clingy. His eyes locked on Joel, head tilting slightly before reaching out for the older man, surprising the two of you. Joel stood frozen even as Jack reached for him, whining slightly. 

It was Ellie who broke the awkward silence, walking down the stairs in the fluffy robe you left for her. “You gonna take the kid, or what? He’s not contagious.” 

You were hesitant to let Jack go but after he let out an angry wail, you put him down and watched as he walked over to Joel and reached for him, making a grabby motion with his tiny fists, the universal pick me up signal from a child. The man awkwardly picked him up and you immediately saw the similarities between the two. You always thought he looked like Joel but looking at the two of them together, a paternity test wouldn’t be needed.

“Woah,” Ellie said, taking Jack’s hand when he reached towards her, “he looks just like you.” 

You ignored the insinuating tone in her words, opting to watch the interaction between the two boys. Joel’s sole attention was now on the toddler in his arms. His whole body softened when Jack rested his head on his chest and you suddenly felt a rush of emotions. Shoving the clothes in Ellie’s arms, you took Jack from Joel and fled out the door, ignoing both voices calling out to you. You didn’t stop running until you were in your own house and rushed to put Jack to bed before going to your own room. Not bothering to change, you crawled under the covers and tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape you. 

You had spent the last five years trying to get over the heartbreak Joel Miller caused you and suddenly the man himself showed up and brought back evey single feeling you had for him.

And you hated him for it.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #allies writing #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

[shadowdaddies]

Yes yes it’s me again 🤭 this one is much more simple than my other ones lol. I am really in the mood for just some sweet smut with Azriel. Maybe the reader is super sweet and quiet. And when they do it her touches are so gentle and soft and it drives azriel crazy because he’s so used to the torture and violence. Just some sweet fluffy smut of reader being super gentle with him.

hey bestie, I'm always down to write some love for Az. He deserves all the love imo💜

A Gentle Touch

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: super fluffy smut below the cut, oral m!receiving, p in sex, minors dni, not proofread

Padding out of your closet where you had changed into your nightgown, you walked over to where Azriel stood in front of the fireplace. He stared at his hands with disdain as he roughly massaged them - a telltale sign of a difficult day of work. Azriel was the kindest mate, one of the things you loved most about him was his grace and understanding that he showed towards others. He just never seemed to extend that grace to himself. 

Wrapping your arms around Azriel, you took his hands in your own, the soft graze of your thumbs against his scarred hands giving him instant relief as he sighed, relaxing in your hold. You gently guided him to sit in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, wordlessly helping him remove his leathers. You untied his top, setting the buckles and weapons to the side, and held his face in your hands. You looked at him with nothing but soft adoration as you rubbed gentle circles on his cheeks before pressing a feather-light kiss to each one. 

Azriel brought his hands to your bare thighs - callouses providing pleasant friction against your soft skin - as you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through his soft, onyx locks, gently massaging as his head fell back against the seat of the chair, eyes drifting closed. He looked so beautiful and peaceful like this, you wished that you could stay in this moment with him forever.

You trailed the pads of your fingertips down his neck, tracing the swirls of the tattoos across his chest as you marveled at the male before you. You leaned in to press a gentle kiss over his heart, Azriel shuddering under your touch as he brought his hands up to wrap around you. He pulled your body flush against his, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he took a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. 

You pulled back to look at him once more, silver lining his beautiful hazel eyes. “Thank you for what, my love?” you questioned as you again brought a hand up to tuck loose hair behind his ear. He leaned into your touch, sighing again as he smiled softly. “The world is such a harsh place,” Azriel whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I am so thankful to be blessed by a mate who reminds me how soft it can be as well.”

Your heart softened at Azriel’s words, pulling him in for another hug as you kissed below his ear, holding him close to your warmth as you continued a path downward - kissing down his neck, licking along his collarbone to his chest, where you kissed him again. Looking up to see Azriel’s flushed state as he began breathing heavily, you kept eye contact, kissing your way all the way down to the ties of his leathers. 

Your nimble fingers untied his pants, soft hands running along the band as Azriel shifted his hips to help you pull them down. He was now bare before you, gloriously shining in the balance of the cool moonlight and warm fire, and you stopped for a moment to admire him, sending love down the bond as you ran your hands up his thighs, a faint smile playing at your lips as he sucked in a breath when you came close to his evident arousal.

Placing soft kisses on the insides of his thighs, you worked your way up towards Azriel’s cock, lolling your tongue out as you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes and flicked your tongue over the tip. He hissed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests in an effort of restraint. Using one hand to guide him in your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the tip before sinking down, taking as much of Azriel as you could. 

He groaned leaning his head back as one hand threaded in your hair. Flattening your tongue against his shaft, you slowly drew back up, only to begin bobbing your head quickly as you brought your free hand to gently graze a prominent vein in his wing. Azriel groaned out your name, involuntarily thrusting up into you as you gagged on his length. He looked at you with concern, but you nodded in signal that you were okay, mumbling around his dick that you could take it. 

The vibrations set him off, Azriel pulling your mouth off of him, panting, “I need you, angel,” as he pulled you into his lap. You kissed him, letting Azriel taste himself on your tongue as you guided his cock to your entrance. You sank down on him, both of you releasing lewd moans at the feeling before Azriel held your hips, helping you bounce up and down on him. 

As both of you drew closer to your highs, Azriel’s thrusts became more frantic, you slumping against him for support as he hit so deep inside of you that you struggled to think. When Azriel licked his thumb, bringing it down to rub circles against your clit, you came undone around him, crying out his name as you buried your face in his neck. You left gentle kisses, rolling your hips as you knew Azriel liked, sending him over the edge shortly after you. 

Pulling back, you looked into Azriel’s eyes again and smiled brightly. “I love you,” you said, overwhelmed by the emotions you felt for Azriel as you kissed him again before climbing off his lap. “Follow me,” you whispered, leading him to the bathroom where you removed your nightgown and guided him to the bathtub, where you washed Azriel - your mate finding peace in your gentle touch, as you did in his.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader smut #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel x reader fluff #azriel acotar x reader #acotar x reader smut #acotar x you #acomaf #acosf #acotar imagine #azrielweek2023 #azriel fic #azrielappreciationweek2023 #azriel x f!reader