#i tried to make them look as cool and regal as they do in the game i hope i did them justice

[liimonadas]

a part of me goes out to all the monsterfuckers who are surely missing the old design. a bigger part of me is gay

[dotster001]

Waking Him up with a Kiss

Summary: Malleus/Silver/Jamil x Gn!Reader. You wake your lover up with a kiss.

Requested by an anon. Fuck you, Tumblr.

CW: Jamil is kinda sus but I wouldn't be doing him justice if he wasn't.

Also! Always get consent from your partner before kissing them in their sleep! That's a cool kid thing to do!

He'd been hinting at this for a while now. All his life, Lilia had regaled him with fairy tales where the sleeping prince or princess was woken with true love's kiss. Malleus had always been a hopeless romantic, and, damn, did he want that!

He'd left the books out when he slept over. He made sure that if he knew you would come looking for him, he'd nap on his back. He sighs dreamily (and loudly) whenever he rereads those fairytales next to you. He waxes on and on about how romantic being awoken with a kiss is. He knows he's dense. But he thinks you're worse.

Lilia giggles and says to be patient, Silver says to just tell you what he wants, and Sebek says to just banish you for the treason of making him sad. He decides that Lilia has never steered him wrong before, so he decides to be patient.

And one day it happens. He's dreaming of you, walking through a meadow, hand in hand. You turn to him, your radiant smile glowing brighter than the sun of his dreams. You press your lips to his, gentle as a cloud, and it feels so real that he doesn't want to wake up.

But he does, and he moans a little as he regrets losing the dream world. But the feeling of your lips doesn't fade. Light as a cloud, gentle as a dove, a feeling that makes him feel so full inside he thinks he'll burst.

His eyes flutter open, and there you are, on your knees in the grass, smiling softly as you push one of his dark bangs away from his eyes. He smiles sleepily, putting together that his dream came true.

“Now that you've given me a taste, I hope you know that I am insatiable,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. You giggled, as though you thought he was joking.

Oh, you sweet little human.

He is not joking.

He has told you this on many occasions. If you are hanging out, and he falls asleep, do whatever you need to to wake him up. He originally tried to be chill about it, but eventually he let on just how much it distressed him when he missed time with you. He didn't want to miss out on any time with you. Yes, it was partially for you. But if he was honest, it was mostly for him. It hurt his chest to think about losing time with someone he loved. Being around the fae taught him every moment mattered.

Usually, you try everything. You shake him, you steal his pillow, you bang a pot, you set three alarms to go off at the same time. But today, you tried something different.

Silver blinked his eyes open, only to be met by your uncertain ones staring back at him, your face hovering a few inches above his.

He gently lifted a hand to his lips, the ghost of your kiss lingering. He may not have been fully awake for it, but he knows it happened.

His mind was immediately transported to a moment in his youth. He was sitting by his father, sniffling sadly because he fell asleep during Lilia's birthday party. 

“Ah, my sweet son,” Lilia said with a warm smile, gently nuzzling his cheek against Silver's. “I know it's not your fault. Even doctors have told you you can't help it. I am not upset at all.”

“But it's your birthday,” Silver sniffled. “I feel like I must be cursed.”

Lilia's eyes widened in understanding.

“That must be it!” He said excitedly. He ran to the nearby bookshelf and pulled off a book, before nodding sagely.

“Yes, that must be it, look,” he flipped to a page in the story, pointing to a picture of a sleeping princess being kissed awake by a knight in shining armor. “I know this curse! When you find true love, perhaps their kiss will save you!”

Silver excitedly nodded at the picture, his eyes wide.

Lilia snapped the book shut, authoritatively. “But until then, I don't want you to be sad when you fall asleep. Your hero will save you one day. And they might be sad that they took a long time to save you. So if you are less hard on yourself, it might help them feel better. Promise?”

Silver nodded happily.

Lilia is a menace, filling his son's heads with fairytales. /Affectionate

In the present, Silver smiled softly.

“Did you kiss me awake?”

“Sorry, I know I should have asked, but I figured when you said wake me up however I can-”

“That's correct. I could have said it plainly, but this is definitely what I pictured when I said that. But in case you need me to verbally say it, yes, please continue to wake me up like this. I think I will wake up every single time.”

You smiled at him, still hovering over him, making him long for your kiss again.

“You know, I wasn't awake for the last one. Would you please kiss me again?”

You giggled, then leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

“I feel like I need more ways to show my love for you,” you said thoughtfully. Jamil sat next to you on your bed in Ramshackle, reading over your report, and checking for mistakes.

“And what makes you say that?” He hummed in amusement.

“Seriously? You do everything for me! And I'm just kinda here!”

“I'm perfectly satisfied with that. In fact, I'd rather do all the hard stuff so that you have the energy to shower me in affection when I'm done,” he snickered to himself. If anything, a small selfish part of him liked the idea of you feeling like you had something to prove. It made you a very physically affectionate lover to “make up for it”. And while he was easily flustered, he very much liked the gentle caresses, warm embraces, and hungry kisses you gave him.

“Tell you what,” he hummed, handing you back the marked up report. It would take you hours to make the corrections. He loved you, but you were at a disadvantage when it came to college courses in the laws of magic. “I'm going to take a nap. When you finish, I'd really feel loved if you kissed me awake.”

He laid down, resting an arm over his eyes. 

“You could just stay the night if you're that tired,” you said in that tone of voice that only came when you were pouting.

“Can't. Kalim has a test tomorrow, and I need to make sure he wakes up for it.”

You grumbled something, but he was already out cold.

He felt…warm. He softly sighed, as he felt your kiss deepen. Still not opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your neck, and continued sleepily kissing you. Yeah. This is the life he wanted. To be rewarded for his hard work with your affection.

He finally opened his eyes with a scowl when you pulled away.

“I didn't say to stop. This is about expressing your love, right?” He snickered.

You pouted. “I miss when every single thing would fluster you.”

He scowled and stood up, stretching away the sleepiness as he prepared for his trek back to his dorm.

“I don't.”

You smiled sweetly, then reached out for his hair.

“Luckily,  I can still make you all blushy when I play with your hair.”

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @pikeru565

“Good night love,” he scowled as he stormed out of the room.

....

[austinsastrology8991]

> MC ASPECTS < How you renowned around town “You make your own reality. And once you’ve done it, apparently, everyone’s of the opinion it was all so fucking obvious.” - Logan - Fucking - ROy

!!parental advisory explicit!!

MC Aspecting Sun - “rome, I think you're a super talented superstar and I love you” - Shiv Roy : Its hard not to notice you, you got a poise of regality, and you work the public sphere with ease; you put yourself out there and you get a lot of attention from onlookers - and it makes you one of a kind. you are someone with dignity and maybe too much self respect for some, to give you the credit that you do deserve > because no one does it quite like you - high key a dominant force in any room you enter - wolf of wall street vibes and lets be honest you are not above having a party at the office... and paying hookers to make it more cool...... you do the most and its a vibe vibe MC Aspecting Moon - "They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra just for you" - Therapist in succession You know how to put people at ease, and your basically a professional therapist at this point. You can lighten up anyones mood or piss everyone off depending on how you feel. And this understanding of psychology really benefits you; because people want to treat you right, so you can give them some insight as to why they have a mental breakdown every 5 minutes (this generations daily cycle) your like a dog that lives in a hair-salon and everyone wanna get a cuddle from it/he/she/thing/you

MC Aspecting Mercury - “Information, Greg, it’s like a bottle of fine wine. You store it, you hoard it, you save it for a special occasion and then you smash someone’s face with it.” - Tom Wambsgams When you stfu people are wondering what your thinking. because somehow. someway. you've taken control of the conversation, and whatever you say is taken with heavier consideration then the average person. However that does not mean you get your way, it just means we listen to you the most - easily the most valuable insight comes from you guys, and your perceived as. a hustler. no wonder your careful with ur words because you dont really care about getting the right answer in the known, if that ultimately inteferes with your master plan you'll just stay quiet - because you know how to navigate the world with words, and your aware that ultimately the final word - the best word - is the deciding factor of what we do MC Aspecting Venus - "Here’s the thing about being rich, okay? It’s fucking great. It’s like being a superhero, only better. You get to do what you want — the authorities can’t really touch you. You get to wear a costume, but it’s designed by Armani and it doesn’t make you look like a prick." - Tom Wambsgams Beauty pageants. Everyone is interested in you, because your beautiful and your graceful, and you'd make a fine edition to the list of exes that everyone has. So besides the fact that your fuckable, you know how to charm people so easily and thats why you get so much attention, and its positive unless your insecure about how attractive you are.... which is a real thing... and id say just get that plastic surgery or stfu and find some real solutions. i mean has anyone ever tried to tell a beautiful person, that they beautiful.... its exhausting... and then they just look for someone else (more beautiful) to get that validation. its a death trap!!! dont fall for that bs... but damn yo fine ass better get used to being a fine ass or someone gonna commit a crime on yo ass MC Aspecting Mars - "I got a track record from founding one of the most exciting new media brands in the world. And what do you got? Track marks from shooting junk? Thanks for coming down. It was great to meet you." - Lawyrence Yee Unfuckwitable - you embody the underdog - and i mean an under dog thorugh and through; youll bark at anything that pisses yall offf, and thats why people watch they step around yall, no one wanna get bitten by da big dog with a small dog complex. but your fierce and people try their best to match your aggressive energy just to save face for themselves - meanwhile your just more pissed off that you always gotta show yo teeth to anyone you talk to lol. Your competitive and act like crackhead that knows karate. everyone is low key intimidated by ya, and you know it

MC Aspecting Jupiter - "Most things don't exist. the ford motor company hardly exists. It's just a time saving expression for a collection of financial interests." - Logan RoyEveryone likes you, and sometimes you don't even understand why, and thats just another reason to like you. You show a geniune uninterest in any boring mundane activities > and this lack of care for bullshit makes it so that when you do show an interest for something > you've somehow convinced everyone in the room that your enthusiasm defines whats enjoyable. and this discernment makes others believe that your the new budha for socio-economic observations . I respect it. and you did it without even realizing, like thats a feat initself, and you guys are 100 feet tall in everyone elses eyes because you got a name fo yo self MC aspecting Saturn - "the actual fact is we're persuading more and more shareholders everyday that we offer them just a slightly better chance for them to make a little bit more money on the dollar…and that's all that this is…." - Stewy Hosseini The boss is here and now everyone gotta actually do something productive. you guys have respect, and people know that if they don't come at you correctly, then you'll correct it for them, and no one wanna be daddied by the king kong daddy. Your life is defined by hardships and this is the most noticeable trait about yall, and it has molded you into a gus fring. A stone cold killer. You don't have to say much but the weight of your presence in itself, is so much pressure, that everyone wanna ask for more time, but no one wanna be scolded by yall so we just stfu and deal with it MC Aspecting Uranus - "Nothing is a line. Everything, everywhere is always moving. Forever. Get used to it." - Logan Roy Who is they? who are we? why can they get away with acting like a complete fucking retard? Well they don't 'get away with it' they just fucking do it. I mean the balls on ya'll is undeniable, but the audacity and the concept of why. well no one knows and I don't think you do either. But you literally change the game wherever you go, because you do ridiculous shit just to make fun of reality, and it really does expose how much of a cult we all live in; since we all about our own rituals of bullshit. I applaud the audacity but everyone gets nervous around your unpredictable nervous explosions - your like a charged creeper; youve been shocked by something and now you just have to explode and ruin everyones buildings

MC Aspecting Neptune - "Climate said I was going down. Climate said I should just step aside. I guess I'm a climate denier" - Logan Roy You're imagination personified. You somehow write your favourite stories into reality > and you do this so uncosnciosuly thst you've somehow convinced everyone its real. You don't care much for whats actually real, you'd rather manifest what you want to be real > no matter whats being thrown at you (and theres a lot) you have a uncanny ability to be a energy conduit > and transform that energy into what pleases you the most. And because of this you appear to be a mystic. and theres a tendency to be very calm, and if life throws too much shit at you > and you've ran outta favours, its adios to the world. and the long road of finding your purpose again awaits! MC Aspecting Pluto - "Would you like to hear my favourite passage from Shakespear? Take the fucking money." - Logan Roy You are daunting aren't you. people don't talk to you very much, at least not any normal self abiding citizen. you look like TMNT - you look neglected > look like you ate some radioactive poison > became this mutant thing > and was raised by a rat that could beat your ass... how'd that go? you look great! I would shake your hand but Im honestly afraid your gonna bite me. Look your life is intense and borderline traumatic, I get it. but this makes you so mesmerising > you can have the whole room in a trance with your dark aura, and people just hand you power like its nothing. You don't even care tho, and thats what makes you even more powerful lol > if anyone can handle the dark. its you > and a powerful 'rep' requires someone who doesn't fuck around. and you do not

highly highly recommend succession > all the quotes used are from dat show - and its a fkn masta piece

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

London calling

Summary; Price is invited to a military event, you're his plus one. A night of socialising and teasing leads to a hot night back at the hotel.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Explicit

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 12.5k

Warnings; alcohol consumption (drink in moderation), SMUT (18+ mdni), oral (m-receving), dirty talk, p-in-v, d/s themes, unprotected sex, captain!kink

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: Where's the nearest wall I can bang my head against? I need this man so bad and that's why you get 12k upon my return💀😭

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

If not for the Christmas lights dangling almost in line with your window, the quickly diminishing daylight soon would've shone with its absence within the room. Dusk was approaching, if not already present, but not with its rosy summer glory, but a gloomy and yellowy-grey sky of early winter. 

Things were still a scale of grey and dark rather than white. Even though some stray white flakes had fallen when you arrived yesterday, they'd melted even before hitting the pavement. And, if it had been cold enough, pedestrians still would've trambled it into mush, and cars would've melted it with their heat.

You put on the small pendant earrings you'd brought as you glanced out the window and down at the people mulling about on the streets. 

Most had shopping bags in their hands, everyone seemingly in a hurry. You didn't need to see their faces whip left and right to find the next store they could steer towards. The ant-like stir of people was enough to know Christmas shopping was in full swing.

A heavy breath escaped you, your eyes flittering back to the mirror. 

You ran your hands down the fabric wrapped around your body. The material felt cool beneath your sweaty palms as you tried to brush out any wrinkles from the dress. Impossible, seeing how you'd gotten it from the tailor this morning and barely touched it inside its casing.

You took another deep breath, one hand raising until your palm rested over the centre of your chest, fingers draped over your bared clavicles. There's a prickling sensation beneath your hand, resembling the crowd's irregular movement outside. If you concentrated enough, you could almost feel how it vibrated, causing your heart to do an uncomfortable double beat that quickly pushed the air from your lungs before you instinctively inhaled.

"Not goin' to faint on me, are you, love?" Your eyes flicker sideways, landing on John as he emerges from the hotel room's bathroom.

"Might just now", you say breathlessly for an entirely different reason than the edginess causing the prickly sensation in your body. 

The man now making his way towards you is the same one you travelled to London with. And yet, there's no jacket ladened with a furry lapel warming him from the chilly temperatures, no beanie atop his head to shield him from the consistent gusts of wind. Now, he's dressed smart. 

Whatever event he's invited to is military in nature. So, while John mentioned that it was a black-tie event for civilians, it was ceremonial for him, meaning you would see him in his formal military uniform. But nothing had prepared you for how regal he now looked in his dark blue suit, polished black leather crossbelt with shoes to match, and the row of medals proudly displayed on his chest. The only missing thing was the matching hat pressed close to his body beneath his arm.

"Flatterin' an old man?" Your gaze locks with his again from having roved over his body, noticing the creases in the corner of his eyes as he stops beside you.

"You deserve every ounce of flattery when looking like that". You turn to John just as he settles one of his hands on the small of your back. In return, you raise your fingers, barely brushing them against the underside of his chin as you lean up and kiss him.

"Mhm, don't look too shabby yourself", he mumbles against you as you pull away from the brief exchange.

"Thank you". You turn towards the mirror again, eyeing yourself. "I didn't know if it was too much". 

"Could never be". 

You'd meant it to be a quick look, but your attention stayed on your reflection, eyes flittering over your form. 

There were a few beats of silence until John stepped up behind you, the hand previously on your back sliding to accommodate the new position. You follow his larger frame in the mirror, simultaneously feeling and seeing how his hands settle on your hip.

"Nervous?" Those blue eyes meet yours in the reflective surface, knowing. You release yet another sigh, head ducking momentarily as you lean into the sturdy bulk of John at your back.

"Yeah", you breathe, the admittance not the first of its kind. 

When the news had been brought up that John needed to attend some military event in London, you hadn't blinked twice. However, when he mentioned the invitation inquired about a plus one upon acceptance, and he'd asked you, you'd looked at him wide-eyed.

"There's no need to worry, love". John dips his head, kissing the juncture of your neck. "You know nothing is expected from you".

Your shoulders slump, hands seeking his as he wraps his arm around your waist. The weight was a pleasant pressure around your mid-drift while his skin was warm beneath your hand.

"I know, but-". You bite your lip, shrugging timidly, eyes meeting John's in the mirror. "It's a military event".

"Nervous 'bout meetin' some colleagues of mine?"

"Not just any type of colleagues", you mumble, making John let out a gentle chuckle.

"You get along great with the lads".

"That's when we're at the pub, not a formal occasion with a lot more of the same kind of people around". You huff in protest. Though Ghost wouldn't attend the event, Johnny and Kyle thankfully would. So, while John won't be the only familiar face in the crowd, that's still only three out of everyone invited.

"I just don't feel like I fit the picture". You shrug once, gaze dropping to watch you play with John's fingers. Your fingertips trail over his knuckles, then up and down his digits. Only when John interwines your hands does your motion stop and attention return to him.

"You'll fit because you'll be there with me". John's gaze was intense as he spoke, voice a steady, deep reassurance. "The lads nor I fancy these occasions, but we need to attend nonetheless. Your presence will undoubtedly make it more pleasant for me, at least".

You smile, craning your neck so you no longer watch him through the mirror but look up at him. John dips his chin in return.

"You're good at motivational speeches".

There's a chuckle before he nudges his nose against yours, moving closer. "Gotten good at 'em through the years". Your chuckle is sealed into your mouth as he slots his lips with yours. 

Your muscles relax as you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours and soothe you just like a warm blanket. Even when you part, you linger within each other's presence.

John was the first to pull away entirely, his eyes falling from yours as he did. You watch him take a step back, keeping one hand on your hip as he lets his gaze rove over your body. 

"God, you're gorgeous", he mutters, taking a full once over before those blues lock with yours again. 

You bite your lip, a smile breaking through nonetheless. "Would hope so. You helped me pick, after all".

"Anythin' to make my missus feel pretty". Your smile widens even more.

John had known you were nervous about the event, reluctant to even agree to be his plus one at first. So, he'd done everything to make you comfortable. 

When you'd had half a breakdown while digging through your closet, only to find nothing appropriate to wear, John sat with you as you looked at dresses online. After seeing nothing that felt right there either, he'd booked a weekend trip to London to visit the tailor he usually entrusted when his formal attire needed a sow-up. 

It had been your first trip together, strolling through the city, having dinners, playing tourist despite not really sightseeing. Though one of the days, between walking and dining, you'd visited the tailor's atelier. 

For once, John only sat down on one of the plush armrests; no need to be attended to. Instead, it was your time in the spotlight, the storage manager ushering you to the racks of dresses, instructing you to pick whatever caught your eye to try on. 

None of the dresses were especially embellished. Still, they weren't simple but elegant. 

You'd switched between examining the dresses, showing John to get his opinion when you found any you liked, to testing them. Although he didn't complain once about you taking your time, chatting to the owner with an old familiarity, even you were tired when you found a dress that was just right. 

However, the sluggishness only brought on by trying on clothes disappeared the second the owner had taken your measurements and you stood by the pay desk. A deposit was needed for the dress, and the rest would be paid on the day you picked it up. But the pre-payment had been enough to nearly make you baulk and glance at John to see if he was okay with spending so much. However, the man at your side hadn't even blinked at the number.

After you'd bid the tailor goodbye and exited the store, you did ask about it. Though not unfamiliar with John's gentlemanly fashion of paying for things, how confidently he answered left you at a loss for an answer, only able to shake your head with a smile when he offered his arm to you. 'I want to, love. It's the least I could do when draggin' you to this spectacle. Now lead me wherever you can find some jewellery matchin' the dress".

"Would you help your girl feel even prettier?" You hold up the necklace bought to fit the dress. God, he'd spoiled you rotten for this event.

"My pleasure". John threw his hat on the bed, overtaking the jewellery from you. With a slight move of his head, he signalled you to turn around. 

Despite facing the mirror again, your eyes were cast down as you tipped your head slightly forward. The glittering metal links suddenly pass your vision as he raises it over your head, the necklace falling over your collarbones as he lowers it. Feeling his fingers brush against your skin, not long after, a barely audible click indicates the piece of jewellery is secured around your neck.

When you raise your head, your eyes immediately fall to the necklace, your fingers trailing over it. A smile slowly shifts your lips upwards as you follow the pretty drop down your sternum. The gentle bow of your lips remains as you turn, craning your neck as you pout your lips, insisting that John meets you in a kiss. And he's never one to turn you down. 

"Thank you", you offer after the sweet peck of gratitude, to which he hums in return. 

You feel how his blue gaze follows you when moving towards the desk that became your makeup table for the night. Even more so when you reach for the lipstick you'd saved to apply until now. 

Crouching slightly so your face aligns with the much smaller mirror on the wooden desktop, you carefully outline your lips before colouring the rest until an even shade coats them.

"What do you think?" You say, straightening up again. As you press your lips together, you put on the lid and place the lipstick in your purse, all in the motion of turning to face the man almost transfixed with you. "Thought the red matched those". You motion with your finger to the ribbons, half-red and half-other colours, attached to his medals.

"It does". You parry the hand reaching for you with a shift to the side, knowing that tone of voice from John would only mess up your makeup. 

He arches a brow at your move, but you only arch both of yours in return as you put your clutch beneath your arm.

"We'll be late", you claim. Even so, you can't deny you enjoy John's attention and the look in his eyes. He makes you feel pretty, desired. It completely overhauls your stomach's previous knots.

Deciding to tease him just the slightest, you pop your index finger much more dramatically than needed into your mouth, pursing your lips around the digit before pulling it out slowly, all whilst keeping eye contact with the man watching you. You smile at John after your finger leaves your mouth, now not afraid of red smearing your teeth thanks to the ring of colour around the middle of your finger.

"Goodness, women", he groans, hand trailing over his lower face. You can only giggle as you pluck a tissue from the box on the desk, rubbing off the lipstick as you slip around John. "Could think you want to be late". 

You throw the paper into the bin beside the dresser as you pass it to the short hall leading to the door, flashing a much more satisfied smile over his reaction than previously graced your lips. 

"Good things come to those who are patient. You just have to wait until after the event for me to paint something else a pretty red".

You catch another deep, grumbly sound coming from him, your previous display more than enough to conjure precisely the picture you insinuated.

As you turn forward, you chuckle again, plucking your heels from the shoe stand built into the dresser. What you hadn't anticipated was for your shoes to be plucked from your grip seconds later and to find John standing close behind you with his retrieved hat under his arm.

You send him a questioning look that he ignores as he kneels. Unable to do anything else, you shift to rest your back against the dresser and follow along when he taps his kneecap. 

You raise your foot so the front pad rests against John's knee before he gingerly grabs the back of your ankle, and the pump is slipped on. He gives you time to find the balance on your now-heeled foot as he drops it before repeating the process. However, before letting you go this time, he raises your foot just slightly as he dips his head, kissing the lowest part of your shin, all the while looking up at you. 

"Gonna hold you to your words, love", he declares, dropping your foot to the ground.

You swallow, going from looking down to up as he rises from the floor. "Don't mind if you do".

"Good", he kisses your cheek, heeding your desire for him not to accidentally, or very consciously, destroy your makeup. "Let us be on the way", he says, grabbing your coats from the racks. 

***

The venue was beautiful: an old building with pillared walls, a second floor acting as a running balcony overlooking the ground floor and high vaulted glass roofs that stare into the dark sky above. You'd only looked down from the stunning decoration and lighting when you ascended the stairs to the main floor, lifting your dress to not catch on the fabric.

You don't know how long ago that had been, but since then, you and John haven't been given much time alone. 

Each and every minute, the man who either offered his arm for you to hold or kept a hand on the small of your back introduced you to someone he knew in one way or another. Although politely greeting them with either a nod or a handshake, there were too many names and too fleeting conversations for you to remember any of them.

Only now did you get the chance to breathe. But rather than feel at ease for the momentary respite, you'd hastily moved from the midst of the crowd to the edge of the room where the table of aperitifs and drinks was, a plate filled with bite-sized food in your hands.

You would've shared them with John if he hadn't been whisked away a few moments prior. Albeit he'd been reluctant to leave your side, even when it was some affiliate from the U.S. who asked for a few minutes of his time, you'd reassured him it was fine. 

You'd told yourself you could survive at least a few minutes without John and that the buffet could keep you company enough. And though you weren't as uncomfortable as you previously thought you would be, the thought of socialising with someone you'd either met already or not at all felt... awkward.

You wouldn't call it shyness. Far from it, you were curious about some of those you'd met who sported black smokings, cocktail dresses or gowns. But, out of those civilians you'd met so far, most of them were not like you. 

Your sole connection to this event, to the military, was John. The other considered civilians had seemingly much closer ties, most acting as private corporate sponsors for military-tied causes through funds or services. While finding it interesting, you didn't know how much of the stuff was confidential, and you would much rather not make a scene just for some small talk. Neither did many have a plus one you could initiate a conversation with. So, the buffet became your company.

Your gaze travels over the mass of people as you plop the last canapé into your mouth. And as if the universe decided to be kind, you spot a familiar face lingering at the other edge of the room. 

With all the new people John had introduced you to and recently also had to part from you to speak with, exhaustion was starting to creep up on you, along with the feeling of being lost in a crowd of still most unfamiliar people. Hence, you quickly discard your plate to instead grab two flutes of champagne before moving straight across the floor.

With people moving almost sluggishly, if at all, around the room, it was no wonder a pair of brown eyes combined with a friendly smile welcoming you met your long before you joined the very man whose attention you'd gotten.

"Kyle". The man nods in response to his name as you get close enough to greet him. The silent hello looks incredibly more formal while dressed similarly to John. "How are you?" You slow until stopping before him.

"Good as can be", his voice was light, making your brows raise upon the humour in his tone. He was the first of John's closest circle you'd seen tonight; Johnny had yet to arrive. Even so, by the looks of it, the Brit looked like he rather wouldn't be here at all.

Kyle carried himself straight-backed, faint smile in the corner of his mouth, one hand behind his back while the other rested along his side. And yet, despite the at-eased posture and expression upon his features, something told you it was entirely for show.

You chuckle, handing him the flute you'd brought. "Yeah, not really my setting either", you admit in a low voice. 

Kyle cocks his head, smile widening as he shifts on his feet, accepting the drink you'd stretched forth. "What suggest I don't fancy this?".

"Don't know, but something about the all too delighted expression gave me a hint", you reply, sarcasm lacing your tone, on par with the amount that previously laden his sentence. That's the first time you see Kyle's shoulders drop somewhat as he chuckles, his posture less flawless as he looks more relaxed than previously.

You smile at his reaction, stepping forward to stand beside rather than in front of him. His brown gaze followed you as you did.

"Why ain't this your kind of setting then?". Your eyes fall on Kyle just as he shifts to look over the crowd.

"Too many of the older generation has gotten stuck and too comfortable behind their desks to remember what it's like out on the field. The rest are mostly snobs who think money and chest candy is our motivation". You bite your lip to stop the laughter rising from your throat at his quick remark. "Why isn't this your setting then? You fit in with the dress".

"Calling me a snob?" You raise a playful brow, a smile tugging the corner of your mouth.

"That you're here, talking to me, says enough", Kyle retorts, eyes falling on you. 

You chuckle, but it turns into a sigh when your gaze breaks from his, fleeting over the crowd. "It just makes me nervous, I guess".

"Why?"

"Well, for the same reason as when I first met you guys". You glance at him. "Just feels like I don't fit in with all of you military people, especially now, at this event".

"Didn't do too bad of an impression on us back then. Especially not Price". You duck your head, a bashful smile bowing your lips that's still present when you look at the man at your side again.

"Perhaps not, but as you said, many here are high-ranking military personnel or snobs that are more difficult to get along with than you lot".

"Cheers to that", he chuckles, raising his glass of champagne. You mimicked his movement and raised your flute in a small tip, you both taking a sip from your drinks as they fell from their elevated position.

Your eyes glide over the crowd, and as if it's second nature, you search for John again. While having tried to spot him previously, you hadn't been successful. Although this time around, you find him.

"He's good at that". You observe John as he talks to the same man who'd whisked him away previously, though now they're also joined by a woman.

Your comment pulls Kyle's attention in the same direction as yours.

He releases a huff not soon after, the reaction making your brows arch and your head turn towards him. His brown eyes flicker down to lock with yours, a humorous glint in them. 

"The old man is good at handling the higher-ups and other connections. That's why he does most of the talk for us". His eyes flicker sideways, probably towards the group you talked about, before they return to you. "Doesn't mean he despises it any less than the rest of us in most cases".

You turn to look at John, eyes narrowing as you closely watch him interact with the man and women. While he seems formal when talking to the man and more cordial with the women, he still doesn't seem relaxed. His posture is stiff, one arm bent behind his back as if wanting to pose fittingly to the occasion, his other hand clutching a champagne flute. Untouched.

Pissy excuse of fizzy water, he'd said once you asked if he wanted to share an old bottle you found in your apartment from god knows when, but acceptable enough that it wouldn't taste like the piss John labelled it as.  

"That's why he brought you". Kyle's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "He's going to use you as a scapegoat the moment it's deemed enough for him to be here". You bit your lip to quiet your snicker, shaking your head.

"He isn't", you argue, only partly believing it yourself.

"Oh, he will". Your head turned towards the new but familiar voice, finding Johnny, dressed similarly to both John and Kyle, approaching from the crowd. "Don't put it past him". 

You immediately split into a grin. "Johnny, how are you?" You step forward, engulfing the man in a hug, getting anchored to the Scot's side as his arm remains over your shoulders.

"Think Gaz gave ya a brief 'nough for us", the Scotsman formally greets the young Brit with a raise of his brows and an upward nod of his head as he directs his attention towards him. Kyle only reciprocated the motion, not answering his question. "Ya gonna drink that, lass?" 

You shake your head fondly, Johnny taking the flute of champagne from your hand as you give it to him. 

"Drunkard", you mumble, rolling your eyes as he gulps down your drink, only to provide you with a cheeky wink when he's emptied the glass.

"Where's Price?" You're about to answer that he's socialising. But you don't get the opportunity before a voice cuts in.

"Savin' my missus from a drunk Scotsman, it seems". Your head snaps towards John's voice, a smile unfolding as you see him nearing your group while collective chuckles emerge from the men around you. "Easy on the drinks tonight, Sergeant". John's eyes switch from yours as he directs his attention to Johnny, the quirk of his lips now reaching his eyes.

"All stereotypes ain't true, Captain. Besides-". The Scot lets go of you, his arm falling as he steps to the side, giving John room to step into the semi-circle. As if you never left his side, his arm naturally falls around your waist, anchoring you to his broad frame again. "-can't get drunk on this, know it yaself", Johnny chuckles.

John hums in agreement, swirling the golden liquid in his flute with the hand hanging by his side. You tap his flank, and he looks down at you. As you motion for the glass with a nod, he gives it to you without any protest, probably delighted to get rid of the drink.

You happily sip it, your throat not feeling as tight anymore when John's with you and you're surrounded by familiar faces.

"How's the evening been then, Captain?" John shifts to look at Kyle.

"Not too shabby, lot of talkin' as always", he says. "Where the two of you been then?" His eyes shift from his fellow Brit to Johnny, who's standing with the hand not clutching the empty glass in his pocket.

"You know how London traffic is". Kyle offers with a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm not complaining about it this time around though".

"Only means you need to stay longer", John huffs, arm tightening around you. You can't help but shoot the younger Brit a look, an amused smile barely hidden beneath the rim of your glass. He cocks his head slightly, an unspoken 'what did I say' lingering between the two of you. "You two conspirin'?" Your eyes flitter back to John as he bumps his hip into yours.

"No", Kyle says as your eyes lock with the man at your side. John's eyes shine, a brow quirked in intrigue. It schooled the expression of rigidity he had previously, showing how at ease he became around his men despite the setting.

"What he said". You smile sweetly at John, fluttering your lashes, causing a ruckus of laughter around you. 

"Be careful, Captain. That one is a sly thing". Johnny claps him on the shoulder.

"I know".

"Don't paint me in a bad light", you joke, nudging John's side with your elbow. The man in question chuckles when watching the pout you send him.

"The lot rub off on me", he indirectly chides Johnny and Kyle, both of whom make faux hurtful sounds upon the comment. "I better steal you away from them and introduce you to better company".

"Who could possibly be better company than us? The silent grump ain't here anyway". The Scotsman questions, glancing around the space with a humoured look until it returns.

"Laswell is better than the two of you together", John returns with a chuckle, his arm tightening around your waist to signal that you soon would be moving to meet whoever this Laswell was.

Upon what's apparently a familiar name, Johnny's brows jump upwards. "She made it here? Didn't think she would". 

John only answers with an affirming hum. "Behave now", he offers in goodbye while you give them a wave before he tugs you with him.

As John directs the two of you through the crowd, you soon realise where he's taking you. The woman he's leading you towards is the same one he'd been talking to previously.

You give him a curious glance when you note she isn't dressed in any military uniform, only a long-sleeved jumpsuit. Even so, when you turn to face her again, the woman has noticed your nearing presence and turned toward you, eyes regarding you in a manner too in-depth to be a civilian.

Her eyes flicker sideways as you stop before her, most probably to the man at your side. It's brief but enough for her face to soften and a hint of a smile to quirk her mouth.

"Kate Lawsell", her American accent is apparent as her eyes fall to meet yours again upon the greeting. You're not late to shake the hand she stretched forth, introducing yourself in return. "So you're John's sweetheart?"

You shrug with a smile as you feel John's thumb start brushing circular patterns through the silky material of your dress. "Guess I am". She hums, the corner of her lip twitching a bit further upwards.

"Almost thought he made you up with the lack of evidence about his special someone".

You chuckle while practically feeling how John rolls his eyes. "S'no need to carry a photo with me everywhere".

"Expected it from a traditional one like you", she shrugs one of her shoulders. Their exchange makes you smile, head cocking slightly.

"So, where do you know each other from?" 

"I work for C.I.A., deal a fair share with the 141 and that British Captain of yours". Your eyes widen, lips parting in a silent oh as your eyes shift to John, then back to Kate.

"That ain't half-bad". Your comment brings out a chuckle from the dark blonde woman.

"Say that when trying to keep any kind of leash on him". Kate nods towards John, a conspiring look in her eyes, one he gruffs at.

"That so?" You face the man at your side with an amused expression, catching the look he sends the woman opposite him. "Am I hearing that you're a nuisance at work?"

John's eyes flicker to you, his features softening as his head dips in a shake and small huff of laughter. "You women always like to team up".

Despite his comment, you talked with Kate for a few more minutes, getting to know more about her, until separate parties dragged her and John off. This time around, however, you got tugged along to the new conversation, with no choice but to remain glued to the brunette's side as he didn't let up on his hold.

Although relieved to stay with him again, your feet start to feel sore, and your body tired. Consequently, you slowly let John take more room in the conversation as you fell silent, still with a smile present to appear interested in the conversation. 

You take a deep breath, careful not to let your exhale sound like a sigh. Even so, John caught it, giving you a brief look to check in on you. You spare him a glance, attempting a soothing smile to fend off any potential concern.

His eyes flitter over your face before he turns forward again, offering a chuckle at something the soldier said. You'd completely missed what it was but mimicked John with a much softer sound huffed through your nose. 

You try to concentrate after that, as it's the only polite thing to do. But god, you find your mind wandering to every little ache suddenly emerging. 

Shifting the weight on your feet subtly, you try to move your hips to ease the twinge in your spine. Unsuccessful, you straighten your back, rolling your shoulders to try a different approach. Through your peripheral, you notice your squirming caught John's attention again, his gaze flickering sideways momentarily. Soon after, his thumb starts rubbing the small of your back with slightly more pressure just to be a subconscious movement.

John had been attentive to you the whole night, but if you could catch his attention this easily, you had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't only your concentration that started to stray or energy to wither.

Even if you probably would do both of you a favour by asking if it was time to leave, you didn't want to interrupt their conversation, so you simply let your head fall sideways onto John's shoulder, content with feeling how his kneading thumb eased the discomfort in your lower back. 

Thankfully, whoever this Miller was, he didn't keep a long-winded conversation with John as Generals had. Instead, the soldier of equal rank soon bid you both goodbye, explaining his departure as not wanting to take up too much of your time. That made your smile more genuine than it had been while listening to the two men for the last few minutes.

As you sigh lightly, a gentle press against your back suddenly steers you forward. You don't protest when John moves you through the crowd, especially not when noticing he's leading you to the outskirts of it.

"How you feelin', love?" John ducks his head to ask the question as your pace slows.

"I'm good, just a bit exhausted after standing for so long", you return with a shrug as you stop at the edge of the crowd, between the columns lining the wall. You tilt your head to look at John as he stands opposite you. Blue eyes meet yours as his hand moves to the dip of your waist before they skate over the crowd.

You watch John as he does, feeling his finger through your dress as they rap against you, almost as if thinking about something. 

Gaze falling, you follow his profile: the slope of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw accentuated by the angle of his head, his beard shining with the oil he'd worked into it after his earlier shower. God, he's too bloody handsome tonight. 

From nowhere, you get the urge to lean up and kiss the skin of his throat right above his collar. Though quelling the desire to plant a red mark matching the outline of your lips on his throat here, amongst all these people, that's all it takes for your mind to spiral.

Gonna hold you to your words, love. 

His sentence from the hotel room echoes in your mind, and suddenly, you can't wait any longer to be the scapegoat Kyle had dubbed you. Sick and tired of this event already.

When you take a step closer to John, his attention is quickly pulled back towards you. With his now undivided attention on you, you lightly grab the tie tucked beneath his jacket, tugging slightly on it to straighten the material to its previous perfection a few hours earlier. 

Satisfied with the minor fix you'd done to his attire, you pat his chest, eyes travelling upwards to lock with his not soon after.

John scrutinises your hands that remain close to where you'd fiddled with his tie rather than drop to your sides. When his blue gaze locks with yours, his head cocks. "What are you up to?"

"M'nothing, just wondering when it's acceptable to leave this event".

John's eyes narrow slightly before his brows rise. "Any special reason to why?"

"Just want to go back to the hotel". You made it evident that trailing your hands down his chest wasn't a coincidence but a conscious decision as you lowered them to pull your purse from beneath your upper arm. "Don't know what you're insinuating". 

"You don't?" You only reply with a coy nuh-uh sound as you open your purse, pulling out the golden encasing housing your lipstick. 

You'd touched up your makeup once throughout the evening, right after John left you to talk with whoever the American man had been, along with Kate, for the first time. As you do it now, blue eyes fall from yours, following your move of painting your lips in a new coat of red. 

"You know very well what you're doin', love". His words are spoken slowly, but their edges are rough, frayed.

"Just playing my part as pretty arm candy". After putting away your lipstick again, you motion to your lips. "Want to help me so I don't get any lipstick on my teeth?" You form your lips into an o, knowing precisely what you're doing.

"Love...", he warns, fingers pressing into your waist.

"John?" You retaliate with a cock of your brow, only to shrug when he makes no move to help you.

Raising a finger, you place only the tip between your lips before pulling it out with a pop. 

A repressed groan escapes John, head tilting backwards, eyes shut tightly. "You're doin' this to me on purpose", he grinds out.

"Of course I am", you giggle in return, using your other hand to rather unceremoniously rub away the red colour with your fingers. "So what's the choice? We staying a bit longer or-". You're not even allowed to finish the sentence before John's head tips forward again, and he does it for you.

"We're goin', now". His arm swiftly wraps around your waist to turn the both of you towards the exit.

"Can't play polite anymore?" You let yourself be carried along.

"Been plenty polite when all I've wanted the whole evenin' is to return to the hotel". John's hand scorches the place it pushes against the small of your back, guiding you straight to the very stairs you'd entered through hours ago. "Then you're pretty arse go about actin' up, provin' how much more I would've gotten done there than here", he grumbles, making you swat the side of his chest with a low, chastising John concerning the setting you're on. The man in question only sends you a look, daring you to argue against him, but after forcing his hand to take you back to the hotel, you can't.

There was a warm, eager air between you and John as you retrieved your coats and exited the venue. You shared glances, fleeting but heated locks of your eyes that had your body igniting. Touches setting you aflame even if his was much the same as throughout the evening but firmer, while yours were brief, teasing over his torso. 

When John managed to hail a cab, he let you enter first, following seconds later and sitting down in the backseat with a low, frustrated sound. 

He tugs his hat from his head, the other hand smoothening his hair. You both know there's a twenty-minute ride ahead of you when even half the time would've been too long and yet you watch him with amusement as his head thuds backwards.

He must feel your eyes on him as his head rolls to face you. You didn't need to say anything; your smile was enough to make him release a low, impatient grunt, eyes closing. 

You chuckle, hand settling on John's thigh as you do. Apparently, he thinks there's an ulterior motive behind your action as his eyes snap open, sending you a warning look that, if anything, made you wish you had done something to deserve it. His large hand grabs yours to emphasise the message to not try anything, dropping it in your lap instead. Even so, he doesn't pull away afterwards, instead letting your fingers intertwine.

When finally rolling up to the hotel, John couldn't stop tapping his thumb against your hand as he paid for the cab, practically dragging you along when he exited the car. 

With his hat in a white-knuckled grip and your hand in a gentler hold, the two of you moved through the lobby. You felt how fiercely John battled with himself to not stalk to the elevators but keep a pace that wouldn't draw attention and you could match.

It's always amusing seeing John like this, exhilarating if nothing. And that's why you can't help but poke the bear while waiting for the elevator. 

You slip your hand from his, blue eyes immediately falling to you as your arm closest to him slides beneath his coat and around his waist, squeezing his mid-drift teasingly.

"Someone seems impatient". The end of your sentence is perfectly followed by the chime of the elevator arriving. Letting your hand drop after pressing your fingers into John's side, you stride into the empty space with a sway to your hips. "I wonder why". You look over your shoulder, a smile gracing your lips as you cock a brow.

John is hot on your heels, pressing the button to close the doors rather than waiting for them to do so. 

Just when you turn to lean against the railing the furthest in, he takes the last step towards you, hands settling beside your own, caging you against the wall just as the door slides close. 

"You should know what torture it's been havin' you this good-lookin' and unable to do anythin' the whole evenin'". John's words are rushed as his head dips close to your face.

"Ditto", you return in a hum, gaze flittering down and then up again. "There was a relatively empty second floor I thought about dragging you to".

"Fuckin' hell, don't say that", he groans, hand coming to cup the back of your neck, angling your face towards his. 

Yet, before John can press his mouth against yours, the elevator suddenly halts on a floor too early to be yours.

He quickly drops his hand and moves so he doesn't corner you against the wall, even though he remains awfully close. Your eyes swiftly snap to the opening doors, schooling your features into a polite smile at the woman who steps into the elevator. She offers you a similar one before her eyes flicker to John. When they do, her eyebrows rise before they jump back to you. 

For a few mortifying seconds, you fear she knows precisely what she interrupted until her smile becomes softer.

"If the two of you don't make a stunning pair", she remarks kindly, making John turn his head to look at her, his body still firmly angled towards you. 

"Well, thank you", you answer for you both.

"My husband was also in the military", she directs the comment to you even if her eyes flitter to John when she continues. "But he never took me to those fancy events. The old man despised them like the plague".

"Seems like all of them do". You chuckle in return, patting John's side fondly. 

The man in question remains remarkably silent, only muttering something under his breath. Your eyes switch to him, sending him a questioning look. Blue eyes return your stare as his head tilts to the right, just a notch, but your brows only pinch together, still not understanding what he's trying to silently get at. That is until his face sets and John angles his hips just slightly more into the upper part of your thigh, and you feel it. 

You almost gasped at the considerable bulge in his pants that definitely would be in danger of showing. Yet, you manage not to, only letting your brows shoot up when you finally understand John's silence and the position he was adamant about keeping.

The woman, however, must have interpreted it like some coupley squabble as she chuckles at your interaction, pulling your attention to her.

"Young love, always so charming."

"Young?" John scoffs into your ear, his voice barely enough to be considered a whisper. "Got me feelin' like a bloody teen", he grouses over his predicament.

You duck your head, forehead falling against his shoulder as you muffle the chuckle bubbling in your throat. 

While the man you hide your face against notices your shoulders jumping and sends you a glare, the woman again misinterprets your reaction.

"No need to be embarrassed. We've all been young once".

"Did you meet your husband young?" You shift the conversation when finally facing her, sure no trace of your previous amusement could be detected.

"Oh goodness, yes, even younger than the two of you", she motions to you and John with a wave. "Much more immature, too". You almost laugh out loud at that. And like previously, John notices, husking a low, pointed 'Don't laugh' into your ear.

"This one's a real gentleman." You turn to face John, smiling up at him despite being met by a stern expression. What the women don't see is the way your hand trails down, down over his stomach until the flat of your palm presses into the spot just above his groin. 

John's jaw flexes, unable to snatch your hand and pull it away if not genuinely desiring to draw attention to what you're doing. But that doesn't stop his blue eyes from meeting yours as he lowly hisses, "And don't do that".

Then, the elevator suddenly lets out a ding as it stops.

"It was lovely to meet you youths, but this is my stop", the woman waves after the doors slide open, John craning his neck to watch her leave with a faint, for your eyes awfully forced, smile. "Have a great evening".

"You too!" You reciprocate her wave as she exits, receiving a friendly smile before the doors close.

Seconds, it takes seconds before your vision is once more filled by John.

"You... love-", he chuckles, nose scrunching as his head cocks to the side. "-oh, you are trouble".

"Don't be moody. You were called a youth", you chuckle. John only manages to open his mouth before the elevator chimes again, this time on your floor. 

You know it was your saving grace from how those blue eyes had narrowed at you. Instead, he only exhales sharply as you grasp his hand, forcing him to follow you to the exit.

Although reaching the doors, you stall with one hand holding them open, peeking outside, head swivelling right and left down the corridor. Noticing the coast was clear, you tug John with you.

Even if no one was around, he walked close enough behind you that the slight problem in his pants would be hidden enough if you stumbled into someone.

Thankfully, you didn't meet anyone on the way to your room, sparing you from the embarrassing interaction that could've occurred. However, it enabled John to whip out the key card and more than a bit unceremoniously push you into your room once the light flashed green, the door barely slipping close before he chucked his hat to the side to pull you against him. 

John's thick arm winds around your waist, pulling your body against his as his nose gently knocks against yours. Hot lips descending upon yours soon after, moulding your mouths together.

A groan vibrates against your lips, John's fingers digging into your ribcage and the side of your stomach. His near-desperate need to feel you against him makes your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The response is instantaneous, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he deepens the kiss. It's your time to release a pleased sound, something melting away from your body as hunger takes its place.

"Fuckin' hell", John nearly rips himself away from you as he grunts the words against your parted lips, hands enveloping your face as he lets his forehead rest against you. Heavy exhales puff against your face in an attempt to steady his heaving chest, to rein in himself. He doesn't remain like that for long, shifting backwards as his eyes flutter open. 

John's gaze locks with yours, eyes considerably darker than usual. Sodalite rather than aventurine. A warm shiver runs down your spine, unable to continue meeting those blues due to the flush spreading through your body. And yet, despite the tangible tension, a chuckle travels up your throat when your flickering eyes halt at one spot on his face.

Your amusement and thumb swiping over John's lips to wipe away the lipstick now coating them in a faint red pop the feverish bubble, turning it somewhat softer, less desperate.

When the added colour fades, you finally lock eyes with John again, finding they've creased in the corners.

"Maybe we should get you out of this, so I don't go about tainting that, as well", you hum, fingers falling to toy with his white dress shirt, mindful to keep the thumb you'd wiped his lips with at bay. Only a deep hum escapes John, yet it's enough for you to make do with your suggestion. 

Your fingers find the first golden button on his army jacket, unbuttoning that, then the next and all the ones until it falls open. Hands moving inside, you feel the warmth of his skin shielded beneath his dress shirt. 

Your hands move up his chest, over his shoulders, until you move the dark blue jacket down his arms. John shrugs out of it, and while letting his wool coat drop to the floor, you're mindful of the jacket, grabbing it in one hand as you move him backwards by pressing your body against his, lips teasingly close but not kissing, only brushing as your breaths mingle.

When you're close enough, you drape his jacket over the chair by the desk before attempting to move on to the next piece of clothing. But apparently, you move too slow for John as he steps back, yanking his tie loose to tug over his head, throwing it to the side. The buttons on his shirt make a frustrated grunt leave him before it's tossed aside as well. While your eyes never leave him, you slip out of your coat, letting it fall to the floor with no greater care than he'd done his clothes seconds later. 

Not only does your gaze drop to John's now-bared chest. Your hands move on their own, feeling him up, sliding over his pecs and the slight patch of brown hair covering them before they slide lower, over his stomach, reaching the happy trail beneath his navel. But too soon, your exploration of his burly upper body ends, John moving out of your reach as he steps backwards. 

Not until his shins hit the edge of the bed and he sits down does he stop putting space between you.  

You watch as his shoes are toed off, all while keeping eye contact with you. Not until John raises a finger, motioning for you to come closer, do you follow him.

You're about to straddle his lap when he stops you, making a twirly motion with his hand. Your head tilts even if you listen, turning your back to him. Gripping your hips, John steers you to sit on his thigh. You wobble slightly as you do, hands shooting to stabilise yourself by grabbing his hand and his other thigh as you press your feet to the floor to keep stable upon the muscular seat.

Once he notices you've found your balance, his big paws slide up your body until his fingers brush the back of your neck. There's barely an ounce of fiddling before you feel the clasp of the dress unhook, and the zipper descends. 

Kisses are pressed against the nape of your neck, the top of your spine and a last one on your shoulder blade before John squeezes your hips, urging you to stand with a delicate push upwards and forward. As you do, the heavy fabric of the dress falls to the floor, collecting in a lustrous circle around your feet. 

When turning to face the man whose attention never averted from you, only your necklace, panties, and heels are the remnants of your previous outfit.

"Always so fuckin' pretty beneath those things", John mumbles, hands rising from his sides. But, before his hands can reach for you, you settle one of your own on his equally naked chest, giving a gentle shove. But the brunette doesn't heed your want, not letting himself be budged an inch.

"Scoot up, John". You nod upward the bed, positioning one knee between his legs on the tiny sliver of the mattress available. He cocks his head in intrigue, hand grasping the back of your thigh, running up and down with gentle gropes.

"What you plannin', love?"

You press your lips together, John's eyes flickering downwards before returning in a slow trail upwards to meet your gaze. "Wanna be good after how I've teased you, Captain". Your voice drops, nearly entering a purr as you trail your fingers to his jaw.

You see him shudder, goosebumps flittering down his forearms as his big hand squeezes the back of your thigh.

"Fine then", John moves up the bed, and you crawl after him, effectively shrugging off your heels that thud to the floor as you do.

As he makes himself comfortable, you busy yourself with opening his belt and rucking down his pants and boxers in one. John's flushed and erect cock bobs upwards towards his stomach as he lifts his hips for you. Just as you rid him of his pants, you remember something. 

When you scoot off the bed again, you haphazardly throw his pants over the same stool as his jacket, moving towards your purse. John props himself on one elbow, brows pulling together as he follows you.

"Thought you say you wouldn't tease, eh?" His voice is husky, verging on impatient as you look over your shoulder, watching as he wraps a hand around the base of himself, most likely not the touch he'd liked as a frustrated rather than pleasurable grunt leaves him.

"I'm not, just fulfilling my promise", you say, wiggling the lipstick you'd fished out before returning to him. 

Moving up the bed, you settle on your knees between John's muscular legs. Opening the case, your gaze locks with his as you coat your lips in a more noticeable red. The sight makes his cock twitch in his hand, his head notching backwards slightly, resting on his shoulder, without ever letting those blues leave you. 

You shoo away his hand when you're done and throw your lipstick aside, your fingers wrapping around him instead. A pleased hum vibrates from John's chest as he relaxes backwards, head settling against the pillows. 

Although promising not to tease, you press a few firm kisses to the lowest parts of his stomach, along his adonis belt and the area just above the cock you're pumping lazily with twisting motions, colouring his skin with red lip-marks. 

When satisfied with your work, you finally slot your lips around him, the sudden heat of your mouth making John's cock jerk, one of his hands instinctually shooting to the back of your head with a drawn-out groan filling the air.

Despite usually building up to a swift pace gradually, pulling out the process to build his pleasure, you don't hesitate to overwhelm John with how you drop an inch or two down his cock immediately, tightly sealing your lips around his shaft, doing everything to leave those marks you'd promised around his cock.

"Fuck". John's hips jerk upwards, not expecting the suddenness of your actions, though he manages to stop the full thrust by slamming his head backwards, hand tightening considerably at the back of your head. 

A smugness fills your chest as you pull back slightly, suckling the tip leaking precum, tongue swiping back and forth over his frenulum while your hand creates slow, circular rotations at his base. 

Through the lowest corner of your eyes, you notice the red rings around his cock, yet you steadily look upwards, following how John's head rises again, eyes half-lidded as your gazes lock. But those blues don't meet yours for long before they fall, the twitch of him inside your mouth and the near growl telling you he also spots the stains left behind by your lipstick.

"Those pretty lips makin' such lovely marks 'round my cock". The sound of his voice is so rough and delicious that your cunt clenches around nothing. "Such a good girl, ain'tcha, love?" You release him with a pop, but rather than answer, you collect your spit on your tongue, stretching it out as your hand moves upwards. Letting the glob of spit hit his cockhead, you coat his saft in the slickness with a pumping motion.

"Fuckin' hell", John rasps, sounding almost pained as his eyelids flutter close, head falling backwards. Your smile is brief before you slot your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down half of his length, the rest squeezed and jerked by your hand.

"Suckin' me off s'good. Come on, deeper you go". He's not even looking at you as he speaks, his throaty words subdued into the air, almost as if he chokes on them halfway through. If anything, it makes you moan around him as you let the hand on the back of your head press you all the way down until he hits the back of your throat. "Jus' like that", he groans between clenched teeth. 

As your tongue plays with the underside of his length and head bobs up and down, you feel him twitch violently inside your mouth, beefy thighs pressing against the side of yours, timbre-low sounds stemming from deep in his chest.

As John finally opens his eyes and looks down at you once more, always so transfixed with the way you desire to please him, he catches the faint glimmer of your jewellery behind the hand and mouth busy with his cock. The stones in the pendant glitter despite the room's dimness, the light from outside finding its way to make them gleam. What's remarkable is that your eyes harbour the shame glint.

Although heady with lust, your eyes are bright, excited, as your gaze meets his. The fact that you love this just as much as he does is enough to make him groan and tip his head backwards, wallowing in the pleasure creeping up his spine. 

Only when a slurping noise fills the air as you suck purposefully and tongue plays the underside of his cockhead, does John's release hurtle dangerously close, and he pulls you off with a firm grip on your hair.

"I wasn't done". 

"You're gonna be the death of me". That comment melts your stare into a smile.

"Don't die on me, handsome". 

"C'mere". John's hand falls from your hair to grip your jaw, pulling you upwards. Your arms shoot to catch you, stabilising on either side of his body as he bends forward, crashing his lips against yours halfway. 

It's dirty, your tongue slipping against John's as he pushes into your mouth, no doubt tasting himself on you. But it doesn't bother him, never has, not when it's on your lips that he tastes himself.

"You wet, love?" He groans against your lips before slanting his mouth against yours anew, your whined 'yes' going straight into his mouth. You unconsciously press your legs together, wiggling your hips, the motion along your forward-bent position exposing your drenched panties to the considerably cooler air. It urges another sound into the mesh of lips, a whine of discomfort this time. 

"Bet you fuckin' are, love suckin' my cock".

A shudder runs down your whole back. "John-"

"Love bein' fucked even more, eh? Get on your back". The demand barely leaves his lips before you shift over his form, laying down just to the left of his previous position in the king-sized bed. 

John moves between your legs, resting on his haunches as he pulls both your legs upwards, squeezing them together as he lets them rest against his chest. With a yank, he pulls your panties off your hips, the wetness on the crotch area dragging against the inside of your thighs as he tugs off the piece of fabric.

You don't know where they end up, wide eyes following John as he lets your legs down, pinning your thighs to the side, wasting no time before his hand slips over your cunt.

"Fuckin' soppin'", he drawls, confirming the answer you'd given him. "Can't wait to feel me stretch you out, can you?" His thumb runs down to your fluttering entrance, teasingly pushing against it. Before he goes any deeper, though, he collects some of your slick and trails his thumb to your clit.

He plays with your bundle of nerves just the way he knows you like. The pressure, speed, and everything he'd learnt about your body is now utilised to get you even more desperate, even wetter. And it works like a bloody charm too, your gasps soon turning to low moans and whines.

"C'mon, love, gotta be quiet", John shushes you, settling a hand over your throat, your necklace digging into his palm. He doesn't squeeze, simply rests it there to accentuate his point, and yet, he doesn't let up on playing with your clit, not even as your squirm, his thumb only chasing you through the movement. "Can't let everyone hear you, now can we?"

Even if you realise John deliberately must have kept his voice down as you blew him -because, of course, you're not at home- even if you try your damnedest, you can't contain your sounds of pleasure.

"Can't", you whine. John makes a deep sound, something between soothing and a snarl that makes your heart jump. Your eyes widen when his gaze darkens and he leans closer, all while his fingers apply more pressure on your clit, the pace quickening. As his face hovers over yours, your mouth falls open, letting out just one of those breathy moans he told you to hold.

"Can't, eh?" John releases your throat and leans back, but not enough to sit straight. Instead, he bends your legs forward and hooks his arm around your waist, manually flipping you over with a swift jerk. "That should do the trick".

It's a strength you know he possesses, but it makes you gasp in surprise anyway, the sound now muffled as your head is slotted in the crease between pillows. 

Two big paws suddenly grab your asscheeks, groping the fat as you feel the man behind you lean over you just after widening your legs with his knees. 

"Stunnin' fuckin' view from back here. This pretty arse-", John spanks your ass with one hand, making you keen, instinctually arching your back towards John. "- and your lovely cunt, just weepin' for me", the same hand that soothed the sting of his slap slide to your wetness.

You beg, a please moaned from your lips as he stretched you, barely any trouble going from one to two fingers with a few pumps. When he doesn't respond, you try again, louder, but only get a chuckle in return.

"Can't hear you, love". Amusement fills John's voice, making you frustratedly whine into the mattress before pushing a pillow to the side, raising your head only to crane it over your shoulder. Sitting behind you is an awfully smug-looking Brit.

"Please", you breathe the whisper, now mindful of your tone, which only widens his smile as he leans over your sprawled-out form.

The sudden prodding against your entrance comes without any warning, and you whip your head around to press into the mattress, muffling your moan so violently that John chuckles. But the sound swiftly deepens, evolving into a tight-lipped groan as he slowly pushes deeper.

Your back arches when his pelvis hits your backside, your motion prompting the slow grind of his hips against you. He doesn't even pull out, only rolls his hips shallowly against your rear.

All John can do is work his hips back and forth, listening to your faint moans slipping from the mattress your face rests against and the slick sounds of your pretty pussy being fucked. 

When he leans his weight forward, hands gripping your hips, John shoves himself even further inside you, driving your face further into the bed. You practically sob, clit pulsing and throbbing and god—

"Fuck, you feel s'good 'round me". The lewd way he said it, a groan breaking the sentence into two with the unhurried sound of skin slapping occasionally, had you choking on an affirming moan. "Makin' such a mess. Pretty cunt's so wet, stretched".

John stuffs his fat cock into you with slow, even thrusts from behind, watching how you grip him tight when he pulls out and sucks him in once he pushes forwards. 

It's slow until it's not. 

When John loses patience, or the pleasure simply gets too much for him not to chase more, he changes the pace, making the curve of your ass jiggle against his hips with each shove of his cock into your cunt. You push your face into the bedding as far as not choking yourself goes, moaning throatily as you clench around him. 

He fills you so deliciously like this. Each firm press of his hips against your ass crams his entire girthy length into you as his balls push against your clit. The rocking motion fills the air with wet slaps that make your head spin and fingers curl into the covers. 

You moan unabashedly as he fucks you. Deep and fast enough that he needs to angle your hips, but when you just keep sliding back prone against the bed from the force of his shoves, John simply leans over you with a growl, fucking you down into the bed. 

Whining, you thrash your head at the way he pounds into your sweet spot buried so deep. With your mouth falling open, it's no surprise if saliva soaks the fabric beneath your face.

Your orgasm doesn't even build slowly. It's a tumbling mess that, once it starts, just picks up momentum until you hurl face-forwards into it. It's so violent it catches John off-guard. The sudden way you shudder with a broken moan, the muscle of your back tensing, walls clamping down on him, everything without him even having to play with your clit, tells him you were just as worked up and exhausted as him, not able to do anything but let the pressure release.

"Fuck", he curses, thick and dark, feeling you get even slicker and tremble beneath his fingers. 

Even through your drunken haze, you catch the drawn-out vowel of the word, which tells you John's close. 

What surprises you, however, is that rather than rut irregularly into you until he buries himself deep and comes, his hand shoots to rest beside your head to catch his weight when he falls forward, slipping out of you in the process. Leaving your fluttering aftershocks to clench around nothing.

You feel as John jerks himself, his knuckles brushing over your skin rapidly. His breath cascades over the back of your head, head probably hanging low between his shoulders as he gazes down your body. Albeit not knowing what he has in mind -his fixation on spilling deep inside you as he pushes himself as close as possible to you no secret- you arch your spine, wiggling your ass upwards.

It prompts a deep, growling moan from him before his breath does a little hitch, then he groans, pleased and drawn out as you feel his release shoot over your ass and then straight over your pussy.

The bed quivers beside your head, all strength momentarily escaping John's burly frame that slackens against your back. Although he slumps to his forearm to keep most of his weight off, his other hand resting on the bed near the dip of your waist, he still presses you considerably deeper into the mattress.

John's heaving exhales disturb your hair, but your eyes remain closed, your whole body feeling light and satisfied as you relax, fingers uncurling from the covers. 

When the man behind you finally moves, you don't have the energy to rise and look at what he does when he grabs your cheeks in his big hands, massaging the plush flesh with parting motions. But, you can only imagine he stares at the white ropes of cum coating your rear, gaze dropping to follow the way it dribbles down over your cunt.

Even if John doesn't do it for long, a pleased hum fills the air before he stops. 

His hands are suddenly replaced with something that swipes over your asscheek and down between your legs. Despite twitching at the contact as it moves along your sensitive core, you release an appreciative sound as he wipes you clean of your releases. John replies by bending forward, kissing your shoulder-blade before shifting off you with a last squeeze to your hip.

Despite feeling the mattress dip beside you, his form slumping to the side with a low grunt, you already miss his warmth.

You breathe heavily, your exhale bordering on a whine warming the covers your face is burrowed in. When your sound gets nothing in return, your breath out softly again, hand searching for John. Just as your hand lands upon his chest, you catch a chuckle before fingers wrap around your wrist. You're tugged sideways, pulled partly onto the chest you'd fumbled your way to feeling. 

Although now looking down at John, you don't see much of him, your hair is mussed enough that most of your vision is covered. A giggle escapes you while a huff of amusement passes through John's nose as he brushes your face clear of its momentary shield.

"There she is", John hums when your gazes lock with nothing in between. There's a tug in the corner of his lip, eyes lidded as he watches you. 

The tilt of his head and craning of his neck is slow. The kiss he initiates is equally deliberate and sweet. Although the exchange is brief, as he parts, John lingers close to your face with his forehead resting against yours, hand brushing over your cheek feathery light.

He murmurs something low enough you can't catch but hum in return nonetheless. A few seconds later, he rises from the bed. As he does, you move to your back, wiggling beneath the sheets to not experience the cold, knowing the sheet must be warmed thanks to your bodies. A content sigh leaves you when you realise you've been right.

As your gaze settles upon John's bare form, rifling around his bag for whatever he's searching for, you can't help how your eyes trail over him. That's how your eyes locate the faint red marks littering his body, some more smudged than others.

Your giggle catches John's attention as he shifts towards you, a pair of boxer briefs now in his hands. But rather than meet his gaze, your eyes flitter over his form, numerous outlines of red lips littered along his lower stomach and groin. Your laughter intensifies, and John follows your line of attention, only to tilt his head upwards again with a smile when he finds what caught your attention.

"You look real pretty with my lipstick all over you", you comment once your laugh fades, head tilting against the pillow behind your head, eyes locking with John's.

"Quiet the artist", he chuckles as he pulls on his underwear.

"It isn't waterproof, so you'll be able to wash it off with water".

"Think about makin' one of 'em into a tattoo". John points to one of the still near-perfect copies of your lips just inside his hipbone and above his waistband. "Make 'em permanent". His wink makes your mouth fall open.

"Please don't!" Your revolt makes him chuckle.

"What do I get if I don't?"

"Me only asking for a pair of pants and not a shirt along with them. And cuddles?" You stretch out your arms towards John with your offer. He huffs a laugh, moving to your bag to dig through it for your underwear.

"Never sayin' no to half-naked cuddles with you, love", you shake your head fondly just before the clothing article you requested is thrown your way.

As John rounds the bed, you lean forward to snatch your panties from the covers. You barely have enough time to slip them on before John, with practised ease, settles into the bed on his side and pulls you close, naked chests pressed against each other.

You sigh in contentment as John's warmth seeps into your body, arms winding around his neck to get closer and being able to graze your nails through the hair on the back of his head, which makes him pull you even closer in return.

The moment drags on as you card fingers through his hair. Every now and then, you feel the gel he'd cursed over as he styled it before the event, still intact at certain places despite the overall moussed state of his locks. 

Somewhere along the way, a hefty, pleased sigh leaves the man holding you as his head burrows into your neck, nuzzling against the necklace still around your throat. Your eyes flutter close upon the rhythmic breaths puffing against your skin, melting more into John's burly body.

"You're awfully cuddly tonight", you hum but make no move to disturb the peaceful air by moving.

"Could say the same about you".

You chuckle at the response breathed against your skin. "Can never get too much of you". A set of warm lips press a kiss to your throat, making you hum contentedly before continuing to speak. "Especially not after tonight when everyone's been fighting for your attention".

There's a few seconds of silence and then a sigh.

"More people goin' to fight for it soon". Your brows pull together at the sudden shift of air when John emerges from your neck, blue eyes locking with yours. "Before introducin' you to Laswell, I got informed we're set out on a mission."

You sighed, nodding at his explanation. It was only about time. "When?

"A week, but it won't be a long one". You perk up at that, John noticing, a small smile tugging in the corner of his lips. "Estimated to be back home before Christmas".

"Yeah?" He hummed an affirmative. Your smile twitched just slightly wider, unable not to press a kiss to his lips. You felt his chuckle just before you parted from him.

"Someone's happy about that". John's brows arched, head tilting to the side.

"Just... didn't have much planned for Christmas this year, so I thought about maybe asking-", you got interrupted by his lips pressing against yours this time. The passion with which John kissed you made your chest flutter.

"Wanted you with me this weekend just in case you had somethin' in the calendar or I wasn't home", he breathed against your lip when putting some distance between the two of you again.

You bite your lower lip, brows raising. "John, are you saying you wanted to ask me about spending Christmas together too?"

"Didn't know if it was an awfully traditional period for you", he said, giving you a half-hearted shrug.

"How sweet of you". You cooed, pecking John's lips, earning yourself a content huff from the man cocooning you with his arms and body. "But I would've wanted to spend some time with you no matter what". As you said this, that handsome smile of John's unfolds as he pulls you on top of him. He released a deep chuckle at your slight squeal, only for both of your sounds to fade as he stared up at you and you down at him.

God, you couldn't wait until Christmas.

[dark-and-kawaii]

A Father's Demise

Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Two separate stories. Their daughters come back home, only to be met with a sight that seemed to be plucked from their darkest nightmares...

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Happy Endings?!?! Potentially!! Also, Apologies for being quiet the past couple days. I’ve been really sick! This was also something to make me feel better… Enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Character Death | Hurt/Comfort | Fluff At The End | Dadphael | Haarlep As Dad

Prt 1?

Raphael

Raphael's daughter returned to the House of Hope expecting the usual cacophony of the damned and the indebted. Instead, she was greeted by an uncanny silence that hung heavy in the air. A sense of unease prickled at the back of her neck as she called out, "Mother?" Silence was her only answer. "Haarlep?" she tried again, hoping for the usual sardonic reply, yet there was nothing. And finally, with a tremor in her voice, "F-Father?”

Her steps were cautious, timid as she made her way through the dining area, where only the soft crackling of the fireplace dared to disturb the quiet. It was a lonely sound, one that did little to comfort her growing concern.

It wasn't until she ascended the stairs to the grand hall that the silence shattered into a scene of horror. Blood mingled with lifeless bodies, staining the pristine marble with a grotesque tableau. She shrank back, fear gnawing at her insides, “It's okay... it's okay…” She tried to weave excuses, fabricating scenarios where her father's wrath was the culprit, a desperate attempt to shield her mind from the truth.

With each step towards the boudoir, the splashing sound beneath her feet grew louder. She glanced down to see water mixing with the crimson stains on the floor. The door veil that usually keeps strangers out of the room is now gone, revealing the source of the deluge; the healing bath overflowing, its contents spilling out in a ceaseless torrent…

Approaching the bed, her every fear was realized. The blood-soaked sheets were a grim canvas, and atop them lay her father, his once regal appearance now marred by disarray and violence. “F-father?..." Her voice was barely audible, a quiver of hope against the starkness of reality. Her trembling legs carried her closer as she begged him to respond. “P-please, father- say something…”

Her tears flowed freely as she reached his side. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no sign of the life that once filled him… “Father?" she whispered, her nudges growing frantic. “G-get up..." Desperation took hold as she climbed onto the bed, her small hands pushing against him, “p-please…” She tugged at his arm, “You ha-have to get up, mom will- mom will be home soon..."

She couldn't finish; the truth was too much to bear. Curling up next to Raphael, she laid her head against his chest, pulling his arm around her as if to shield herself with his presence, his blood now her own, as her sobs filled the room.

Footsteps approached, and a shard of hope pierced her grief. "Mom!?" But the sound that followed was not the comforting voice she longed for, but a dark, mocking laugh. Haarlep emerged, their expression one of false sympathy, "Fraid not, little one," Haarlep's voice was cool, detached.

Clutching her father, she looked up at Haarlep with eyes that begged for a miracle. "Ha-Haarlep! Help! Please! I don't know what to do- I- I-" Her voice faltered, her world shattering as Haarlep's smirk only twisted further, a silent testament to their betrayal.

And as Haarlep stepped closer, she saw how her fathers crown, the Crown of Karsus rested upon their head. The incubus grinned, her father's blood painting their lips, a sight so vile she felt the warmth drain from her body. Haarlep's tongue flicked out, lasciviously cleaning the blood away. Their command was cold, merciless. "Run from here, and never return."

Frozen by shock and grief, Raphael's daughter felt the very fabric of her world unraveling. The sanctuary of her home, the invincibility of her father, the loyalty she thought unbreakable, all were illusions now shattered. The House of Hope had fallen…

…

“NO!!”

Her eyes flew open, her breath coming in shallow gasps her nightgown clinging to her skin, drenched in the sweat of terror. The nightmare had been so vivid, so visceral, that for a moment she remained still, half expecting to see the blood-soaked sheets and her father's lifeless eyes. But as the fog of fear dissipated, she realized she was in her own room, safe within the walls that had always been her sanctuary.

With a shaky exhale, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet finding the cold floor beneath them. The coolness of the stone was a small comfort, a reminder that this was reality, not the blood-soaked chambers of her nightmares.

Steeling herself, she rose and made her way out of her room. She needed to find her father, to see with her own eyes that he was safe, that the nightmare was just that, a figment of her imagination.

When she reached the boudoir she hesitated. Her hand shaking half expecting to reveal the horrors from her nightmare. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The room was peaceful, bathed in the gentle glow of the candles and avenues. And there, in the large bed lay her father. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep, his face relaxed, free from the anguish that had twisted it in her nightmare.

She whispered, her voice barely audible, "Father?"

His eyes blinked open, and for a moment, they were clouded with sleep, searching for the source of the disturbance. When his gaze settled on his heir, clarity returned, and his expression softened..

"What troubles you, child?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a bit of annoyance.

"I had a nightmare… Y-you… " she wipes a tear away as she confesses, the words of a child seeking solace in the presence of her father. "It felt so real."

Raphael lifted the sheets to his bed, "Just this once," inviting her into the sanctuary of his and your embrace. His tail curling around her in a protective gesture, as if to ward off any remnants of the night's horrors before one of his wings enveloped both his daughter and you.

She snuggled in between both you and her father, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that promised safety.

Haarlep

The stone walls of your home echoed the sounds of urgency as Haarlep's daughter, her heart filled with the thrill of mischief, raced through the corridors. Her arms were laden with loaves of bread, the spoils of her latest foray into manipulation. A grin played upon her lips, eager to share the tale of her conquest with her father, to see that smirk of approval on their face.

"Dad! Dad, you won't believe what I did!" she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls, searching for the familiar presence of Haarlep. But the house was unusually silent. Her steps slowed, a frown creasing her brow. "That's weird…"

She went to the only other spot they’d be. As she approached her parents' chamber, the memory of the last awkward interruption still fresh in her mind. She hesitated, her hand on the large wooden door, whispering a silent prayer to the darkness that she wouldn't find her parents in a compromising embrace… Again.

Gently, she pushed the door open, only to be met with a sight that drained the color from her face.

The loaves of bread tumbled to the floor as the door shut with an ominous thud behind her. Inside, a strange portal shimmered in the air, its edges flickering with otherworldly energy. Next to it lay Haarlep, her parent, once a figure of protection and guile in her eyes, now still and bloodied. Their clothes were tattered, their body marred, an image so shocking that it stilled her for a moment.

…

"Har har, very funny, Dad," she said with a nervous laugh, hoping against hope that this was just another one of their twisted jokes. She approached her parent cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. As the portal began to close, she saw a figure on the other side, a creature with red skin, dark hair, and a beard who gave her a smug wave before disappearing into the ether.

The sickening realization hit her, and her voice trembled. "D-dad…?" She knelt beside them, her hands shaking as she touched Haarlep’s horns, trying to rouse them.

"Th-this isn’t f-funny…" She shook him gently, then began to push on their bloody chest more urgently, denial lacing her voice. "Dad! This isn't a fun game!!"

With each desperate plea, the truth sank in. The silence that answered her was suffocating… The parent she was closest to, her mentor in mischief, the one who wrapped their tail around her in protection, the one who would lift her up and make her feel invincible, was gone... Her heart, a thing not made for breaking, fractured in her chest.

"D-dad…" She wrapped her arms around their neck, her sobs breaking the haunting silence. "Come back, come back!! Please!!" Her cries were muffled against their chest, her tears mingling with their blood.

Her cries, raw and primal, tore through the silence of the chamber. "Mom!!!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief.

"Mom!!!" Her voice cracked with pain and fear. "Mmmoommm!!"

Time seemed to contort, stretching and bending as you, her mother, drawn by the cries of your child, burst into the room. Your approach was a slow-motion cascade of horror and realization. She watched through tear-blurred eyes as you fell to their sides, your own anguish mirroring your daughter's.

…

“MOM!!”

She bolted upright in bed, her breathing ragged, her body drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare- was all too vivid in her mind. She clutched at her chest, a strangled sob catching in her throat. The images of her father, still and lifeless, clung to her like chains.

The familiar room came into focus, illuminated by the soft glow of a candle that lingered in the corner. She was in her parent’s room. Her gaze first landed on Impsy, the imp lying sprawled with a twitching foot, then shifted to you, her mother, who was slumbering serenely beside her, before finally settling on the one she was most eager to find, Haarlep.

Their chest rising and falling. The sight of them, the undeniable proof of life, sent a sob tearing through her, silent but profound in its relief.

An arm wrapped around her, pulling her gently but firmly back down. Haarlep, having awakened to the sound of their daughter's distress, drew her close, their senses finely attuned to the emotional currents of those around him. “Did my little imp have a bad dream?" Haarlep teased, their voice a perfect combination of concern and their usual playful mockery. Despite the teasing tone, their eyes searched hers for the depth of her fright.

Nodding, she recounted the terrible vision of her father, bloodied and still, the taunting figure in the portal, the overwhelming loss. As she spoke, your hand ran soothing circles against her back, a silent reassurance of safety and love.

Haarlep, ever being themself, made light of the darkness in her tale. "Ah, my tyrant, even in your dreams, I'm the star of the show," they quipped, a playful grin tugging at their lips.

Gradually, her trembling ceased, and her eyelids grew heavy. As she drifted back into sleep, nestled securely between her parents, a silent exchange passed between Haarlep and you.

Your eyes were filled with unspoken worry, the description of the devil too precise, too vivid. It bore the unmistakable signature of Mephistopheles… In that moment, Haarlep's facade slipped, revealing a glint of apprehension.

Mephistopheles, Haarlep knew the description all too well, a master from their past that they had hoped would never cross into their present, especially not into their offspring’s dreams.

As sleep reclaimed the chamber, Haarlep's arm tightened around their daughter, as if it would be the last time…

[moremousewrites]

Just For You

Request Link

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (GN)

Summary: At the party, your companions get around to asking what you've been doing the last few months. They're shocked to discover you're spending your time with Astarion. They're even more shocked to learn that you'd had a relationship with Astarion the entire time

Tags: just pure fluff and epilogue spoilers

A/N: thank you for requesting! I tried to make it as close to your request while staying in character so i hope you like it 🖤

The night air cooled your skin at your old camp. You never thought you'd see it again; the grounds you'd spend in quiet comfort during those weeks of peril. And to see your friends again after all this time was an even greater privilege. Though, catching up with your companions was proving to be a bit overwhelming for you. You listened intently as they regaled you with anecdotes of their new lives, adventures, and homes. It was a lot to take in, seeing how much they'd changed in the months you'd been away, but pleasant to know they were all right. 

At some point in the night, Wyll finally turned the attention onto you. You'd managed to dodge the questioning for the night, asking your companions about their lives. But now it was your turn. 

“Enough about me, Tav. What have you been up to these last few months?” He asked, eager to hear from you. You hadn't kept in touch with anyone from the party so it was his first time hearing about your new life. Well you had kept in touch with one person. 

“Well, Astarion and I have-” you started.

Wyll cut you off, confused. “Wait, you and Astarion? Did some spark ignite between you after our adventure?” Wyll teased, shocked at what he was hearing.

You looked over at Astarion who was eyeing you, considerably from the other side of the camp. “No, actually. We were… how shall I put this. Involved. Prior to the Netherbrain” you explained, awkwardly, taking a sip from your goblet to hide your face.

Wyll's jaw dropped. “You were together the whole time?!” He practically screamed. All attention was on you now. 

You tried to shush him, giggling slightly at his reaction. “Oh no, Tav. You've got some explaining to do. How could you not tell us you and Astarion were a thing?” He asked in disbelief. 

“What the fuck?!” Karlach chimed in, running over to you. “Soldier, are you shitting me?” She asked, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. Your drink splashed onto your hand and you grabbed her arm to steady yourself. 

Again, you shook your head. Where was that vampire of yours? “Well… technically it wasn't the whole time” Ah, there he was. You heard his voice approach behind you and felt his hand on your lower back. Karlach released you to watch the spectacle before her. “Most of our time was obviously devoted to killing cultists and the occasional mind flayer but yes in the duration of our adventure we formed a beautiful bond” Astarion explained in an aloof way. 

You could see your companions weren't satisfied with his answer at all but it didn't matter. The quiet nights you shared together, the stolen glances and tearful confessions. Those were only for the two of you. It was your love, and it was finally a peaceful one. You were happy to share your adventure with your friends, but some things were just for you.

As the night was ending and you said your last goodbyes, you made your way to Astarion. He had a soft look in his eyes, one he saved for you and you alone. “Did you have a nice time, my love” he asked, sincerely. 

You nodded. “Yes I did. I missed them” you sighed, taking his hand in yours.

Astarion gave your hand a gentle squeeze to reassure you. “We'll see them again. Until then, let's go home” he said. You walked away from the camp you once called home, hand in hand. 

[astatia-ghast]

The King's Quest

At last! Finally, it has come -- my 2023 Holiday Truce gift for @hailsatanacab!

You're a trooper. I'm sure it drove you crazy to wait all this time. I wanted to give you a preview on Christmas Day to tie you over, but it took too long for me to settle on how I wanted to fill this prompt. I hope you'll forgive me for the wait!

The prompt I chose is this one: "To ascend to the throne, Danny must complete a quest. This is great, because Danny doesn't want the throne! Screw the quest — Danny's hanging out with his friends and going to school like the normal boy he is! …Unfortunately, fate has other ideas. No matter what he does or how badly he tries to do the opposite, Danny just keeps fumbling his way into winning the crown."

It was a great challenge for me because while I have spent plenty of time daydreaming about the ghost king AU, I don't typically read or write fanfiction about it. This prompt helped me exit my comfort zone while still letting me work with the characters and tone I love.

Before I began to work on this, I spent a lot of time lurking on your blog to figure out what kind of fanfiction you like, and I must say, you seem like a pretty cool person. I'm glad I was paired with you!

And of course, a big thanks to @phandomholidaytruce for making this whole thing happen! It was my first time participating, and it was a delightful way to end the year.

Alright, enough thanks! On to the fic!

Read on AO3

---

"I never wanted you to find out this way."

Danny leans frozen over a basin still shimmering with the ripples of a just-disturbed future. His eyes are wide, heart pounding, vision tunneling, knuckles white around the rim.

There's no way he saw what he just saw. There's no way.

Behind him, Clockwork watches in silence. He had left the room for only a moment, and Danny had taken the opportunity to sate a curiosity that he now knows should never have been sated. He had stuck his face in the basin, and he had seen a future — a future of him.

"This is my future?"

"It is one of them."

Danny turns around. His eyes are still wide and his body shaking, but Clockwork's words are like a steadying stone he can latch on to. "So it doesn't have to be this way?"

Clockwork's lips grow thin. He rests his staff by the door he had just entered, slowly and measuredly, as if stalling for time. Even once his hands are free, the silence grows longer still; long enough for him to shift into a toddler and then an elder and then an adult again before any word breaks the stillness of the tower.

At last, he speaks. "The truth is, the clock started ticking the moment you deposed Pariah Dark. It is one future of many, but its passing has already been etched in stone."

As if in emphasis, a clock strikes eleven somewhere deep within the tower.

"You will become King."

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

Even now, the tower seems to sing to him — regally, mockingly. He wonders if those ripples in the basin are cascading through the timeline, setting in place the bars that will one day imprison him.

"No. I can't be a king." A bead of sweat trails down his temple, tickling him as it goes. "I can barely deal with my life as it is. And no ghost is going to listen to me — all they want to do is attack me. I want to go to school and play video games and at least try to get into NASA. I don't want to be a king."

Clockwork's lips draw even thinner still. In the silence that follows, his gaze falls to one of his many watches, which he begins to twist idly with one hand.

"I remember many things," he says with a hushed rumble. "Pariah Dark was a great king, until he was not."

His gaze grows unfocused. The hand on his watch goes to his face, where it slowly traces his scar. Danny has never seen him do that before.

"I remember the destruction he wrought. I remember looking him in the eyes as he was shut inside his tomb."

His hand falls to his side as his gaze meets Danny's once more.

"You are more than triple the man he ever was. You would make a great king."

Danny's hands go to his head, where his fingers thread through his hair. He takes a step backward in some subconscious attempt to get away from Clockwork and this — this lie, but he runs into the basin still shimmering behind him. Its pedestal rocks dangerously, and Danny wants to scream enough for his Ghostly Wail to take over and shatter the wretched thing into pieces.

But instead of screaming, a fire bursts into life within him. He meets Clockwork's gaze afresh with blazing eyes. "No. I'm not going to become King. You're going to have to find a new future, because that one is not coming true."

Clockwork's expression turns into something like pity. It's enough to quiet the fire for a beat — just a beat, though. "Danny." He drifts forward until the two of them are within reaching distance. He lifts his hands as if to place them on Danny's shoulders, but then he seems to reconsider it and clasps them in front of himself instead. "The Realms have been heralding your arrival since the dawn of my work. You are going to become King."

Danny says nothing. The fire crackles in protest, but it doesn't know what to burn.

Clockwork sighs. He raises one of those hands he dropped before, and at last, it makes contact with Danny's shoulder. "If it helps, it's not going to happen right away. There is a quest you must complete before you take the throne. You can—"

"A quest?" Danny's eyebrows fly up. He latches onto this thread like a rope draped over a cliffside.

"Yes, a quest. Before any monarch can ascend, they must—"

A bark of laughter escapes Danny's throat, and then a font of mad cackling bubbles up behind it. He cackles like a man unhinged, having found the simple yet ingenious solution to all his woes.

Clockwork's eyebrows knit together. "Danny—"

"Don't you get it?!" he jeers. "If I don't know what the quest is, I can't become King!"

Clockwork grows stern. He says his name again — "Danny" — and this time it's clear he wants him to quit laughing and sit down and listen, but Danny isn't having it. He's already lifting himself up into the air and away.

"Start checking your futures, Clockwork, because you missed one! I'm not becoming King!"

Clockwork reaches out as if to restrain him, but the fire finally explodes. Danny violently pushes him away with ectoplasmically-charged hands, keeping one ectoblast at the ready for good measure.

"Stay. Away." His voice is charged in a way that it has rarely ever been before. An otherworldly chill dampens the room. Clockwork is far too powerful a ghost to be affected by it, but if any human had been in this room, they would be screaming.

Clockwork gets the message. He watches with trepidation as Danny flies away.

---

Danny returns to Amity Park determined to slide right back into his normal life and pretend like that moment in the tower never happened. To forget about what he saw — petals, a cape, a crown — is impossible, but hell if he's not going to try his hardest to stay as far away as possible from anything even remotely king-like.

And so he does. He goes to school, fights ghosts, gets bad grades, listens to his parents' mad-scientist ramblings, plays video games, sleeps over at Sam and Tucker's houses, and generally lives exactly the life he'd rather live.

And he doesn't visit Clockwork in all that time, either. It pains him, as he enjoys Clockwork's company a lot and had even become something of an apprentice to him, but he can't risk subjecting himself to some well-intentioned lecture about the virtues of being King.

…Plus, he did kind of assault him and run away. Clockwork probably isn't very happy with him. But apologies would have to wait — for some future in which he isn't King.

School. Ghost fights. Bad grades. Mad-scientist ramblings. Video games. Sleepovers.

Life goes on.

---

Sometime after Danny defeats Undergrowth, Sam drags him along to the Amity Park Botanic Gardens. Well, "drags" is a strong word — he's grateful for any excuse to hang out with Sam — but still, the thought of visiting a botanic garden and admiring plants in the wake of Undergrowth's reign of terror is insane. He expresses as much, but Sam insists that that's all the more reason to visit, as both of them need to unravel their new Pavlovian fear of perfectly innocent plant life.

Plus, apparently admissions are way down — surprise, surprise — and Sam wants to help them out before the dip in finances forces them to shutter. Fair enough.

She tried to get Tucker to come along too, but there was zero chance of getting him through the doors even before Undergrowth gifted the whole city with a healthy dose of botanophobia. So that fine day finds the two of them alone in the Gardens' newly-opened orchid exhibit, Danny antsily resisting the temptation to reach out and hold her hand.

Under the canopy lush with tropical leaves, it's hard not to feel cocooned — in a way that feels remarkably warm and safe. Everywhere they look, orchids peer back, bright and colorful with every color of the rainbow. There are big orchids and small orchids, potted orchids hanging from the limbs of towering trees, orchids that look like pinecones, orchids that look like neat tufts of fur, orchids with stripes and orchids with whiskers.

To Sam's very great credit, the exhibit is astounding, and even his shriveled, technology-loving heart can't help but marvel and be thankful that she convinced him to come here.

In time, he finds himself growing drowsy. It's like the peace and beauty of the place is infectious, to the point where his heart rate seems to slow. Eventually, he turns to Sam and asks, "Would you like to lay down?"

She agrees, and the two of them pick one of the few spots in the exhibit not overtaken by stone pathways or lush vegetation. They spend a few minutes chatting about something or other, but in time, they lapse into a peaceful silence, and Danny begins to space out.

He stares up at the canopy. The sunlight, so radiant and soft, seems to sparkle as it filters through the roof of the greenhouse and the tropical leaves below. Somewhere, a stream gurgles.

And there is a song. It takes a moment for him to realize that he's hearing it, but once he does, it's unquestionably there. It's distant and peaceful, echoing, like standing outside the door of a lofty cathedral while a choir sings inside. Sluggishly, he looks around, and as his lazy eyes focus on the beautiful strands of a white orchid, he is suddenly positive that the song is coming from them. From the orchids. From all the plants in the greenhouse, and perhaps even beyond. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows.

He falls into a trance, enjoying the song, until suddenly, there is a sharp poke on his shoulder. He sluggishly turns his head to see Sam, who has clearly been trying to get his attention.

"Earth to ghost boy. Anyone home?"

Danny blinks a few times, but his eyes are reluctant to focus. He feels like he just surfaced from a dream. "Sorry. I was just… It's nice in here."

Sam chuckles. "You're really enjoying yourself, huh? Way more than I thought you would."

Danny chuckles too. "Yeah. You were right. I'm glad you convinced me to come here."

Now that his mind is clearing up, it slowly begins to dawn on him how utterly bizarre the last several minutes were. Plants? Singing to him? Surely he's just imagining things — he wants to believe that's the case — but no. Somehow, he's sure. Those plants were singing to him.

Maybe a touch of Undergrowth's power is still in them, like some sort of ectoplasmic residue? That's the only explanation he can think of, and it makes sense, since these very same plants were undoubtedly enthralled by the ghost just a few weeks ago. But why were they singing?

He decides not to tell Sam. He doesn't know why, but it just feels like something he should keep to himself, and not just because it sounds crazy. So he files it under "ghost thing" and leaves it at that. 

It's not until he's watching a video in history class a few days later that he realizes that the song sounded an awful lot like a coronation song.

---

Something similar happens after he defeats Nocturn. Three sleepless nights after he sends the ghost back to the Ghost Zone, he's finally too tired to care whether or not he will show up in his dreams again the moment he closes his eyes.

As he slips into the twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep, ensconced in a darkness broken by one particularly annoying street light, his dreams turn into something… odd.

Before him, he sees seven creatures like Nocturn — tall, dark and starry, like the night sky made manifest. He slips into a ready position, poised to either fight or run, but instead of attacking, they bring their palms together and bow, all seven in unison. And then there is at once a horde of similar creatures behind them, stretching as far as the eye can see, bringing their palms together and bowing in turn.

He wakes in a cold sweat. No. There's no way. There's no way this king thing is still following him. That couldn't be real.

He spends the next day convincing himself it was just a dream, but really, he knows better.

---

The moments keep piling up. When he defeats Vortex, the clouds seem to part for him wherever he goes. When he returns Pandora's box, an ornate jewelry box mysteriously appears on his desk, which, when opened, reveals cavernous, physics-defying depths. Danny grows increasingly concerned that the ghosts have waived his quest and are pledging their fealty to him anyway.

When Clockwork appears in his bedroom one night, nearly a full year since their fight in his tower, Danny is no longer nervous to see him. Actually, he's quite relieved, since at this point, the only thing he's concerned about is getting answers.

"Would you like to have a chat?" Clockwork asks with a smile that almost seems sheepish.

It's a non-question, of course; Danny goes readily, and he's sure that Clockwork knew that he would.

Entering the tower is almost like coming home. A calm quiet; ticking; cavernous rooms cast in shadow — the whole place seems to envelop him in a hug, and briefly, Danny feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. The past several months have been stressful. He regrets the way he treated Clockwork the last time he was here, and he regrets that he didn't have the maturity to return much earlier.

But Clockwork is ever calm and welcoming, and Danny finds thankfulness shooing away the regret in his heart. What a remarkable person Clockwork is.

The two of them stop in the same room with the basin, whose waters stand completely still. At first, Danny thinks Clockwork is going to encourage him to revisit his future, but instead, he opens a cabinet standing against the opposite wall. As he reaches inside, he says, "I have something for you."

Danny waits, more than a little curious and struggling to resist the urge to see if his coronation is still in the basin. When Clockwork turns around, he's carrying a necklace — not unlike the medallions he uses to take people out of time, but much more ornate. Gently and in silence, he drapes the necklace around Danny's neck. Once it settles, he rests his palms against Danny's chest, in a way that makes Danny think something weighty is about to come.

Their eyes meet. "You recall what I said before, yes? That there is a quest you must complete?"

"Yes."

Clockwork smooths out the wrinkles on Danny's shoulders, and then his hands just stay there. "There is a reason I tried to restrain you. By refusing to learn the quest, you expedited its completion."

Everything in Danny goes cold.

"The quest was to either defeat or receive the approval of all seven of the Ancients: Pariah Dark, Frostbite, Undergrowth, Nocturn, Vortex, Pandora and myself. And you have done so for all of them — including me."

A rushing sound fills Danny's ears.

"You have had my approval since even before Pariah Dark was granted the throne. So with the bestowing of Pandora's gift, you have become King."

The necklace feels heavy around Danny's neck — a necklace he now realizes is a coronation gift.

"I am sorry, Danny. But I stand by what I said before: you will make a great king."

Clockwork pulls him in for a hug, and Danny goes willingly. His wailing fills the tower.

Somewhere deep inside, a clock strikes twelve.

---

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Danny's knuckles go white around his scepter, just as they did around the basin all those months ago.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

---

(Yes, I may have warped the timeline of Season 3 just a little bit. Clockwork will be waiting in the lobby to take your complaints! :þ)

[lancermylove]

Daughter of the 7 Rulers of Hell 3 (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Ace with fem!Reader, featuring demon brothers.

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Original Prompt: F!MC x deuce but MC is raised by the demon brothersHeadcanon on the brothers reaction on MC dating deuce and what they would think of deuce after meeting him. Deuce reaction to finding out MC is adopted by the 7 rules of hell and what he thinks of them after meeting all of them.

Prompt: If you continue the daughter/kid of the 7 Rulers of Hell series, can you do Ace next?

A/N: Thank you for requesting this, anon! I went back to check the original post and found the series tag. At some point, requests in my messages disappeared, and that request was one of them. To the anon who requested the first years, I am so sorry for not getting to your request.

Series: [Deuce][Epel][Floyd]

———————————————

Definitely thinks you are pulling his leg when you tell him your family members are demons, and even teases you about it often. Until he meets the demon brothers and literally has an 'oh, shit' moment.

Ace is impressed by Lucifer's air of authority and regality; however, he can't help but feel like Lucifer is another Riddle with all the rules he puts out. No wonder you had no issues with Riddle's rules - you were used to Lucifer's strictness.

When he meets Mammon, Ace immediately considers him a soft target for playing pranks. At the same time, he can somewhat relate to Mammon because they both are pranksters and carefree. Ace sometimes teams up with the second brother to play pranks on others. But if they get caught by Lucifer, your boyfriend pins the blame on Mammon to avoid punishment.

Ace feels like Levi is a mild version of Idia, and Asmo is an extreme version of Vil. He doesn't really get along with them in the sense that he doesn't spend much time around them.

Satan, on the other hand, fascinates Ace, minus the anger issues. Your boyfriend doesn't want to be around the Avatar of Wrath when he loses his temper.

At first, Ace is intimated when he sees Beel, especially when he sees the Avatar of Gluttony eating. Where does all that food go, and how is Beel always hungry? Ace can't understand. Learning how easygoing and friendly Beel is, he eventually relaxes. He may or may not pull pranks on the sixth brother.

Ace is curious why Belphie always sleeps and thinks he might have some sort of sleeping condition. He even tries to ask Belphie, but you stop him and explain that the seventh brother is just the Avatar of Sloth, so it's second nature for him to sleep.

Overall, Ace is excited and a bit intimidated to meet your family. But most of all, he wants to see their demon forms. He can't image how cool they must all look.

Knows right away when he sees Ace that your boyfriend is a prankster - he has lived with a prankster enough to know one when he sees one.

For the most part, Lucifer doesn't mind Ace's presence or you dating him. As long as Ace follows the rules of the House of Lamentation and doesn't do anything stupid, the first brother doesn't mind.

What Lucifer doesn't expect is Ace's ability to speak the honest, brutal truth. He is amused when he hears the redhead set everyone in place. But if Ace dares to be brutal towards Lucifer, the first brother will not hesitate to make your boyfriend cry, even if you get mad.

Initially, the second brother likes Ace's lively and carefree personality, but when he sees your boyfriend's 'other' side, Mammon is secretly scared.

Being an emotional demon, he doesn't want to deal with another family member who is verbally brutal towards him.

Regardless, he sees Ace as a partner in crime when it comes to pulling pranks on others, except Mammon doesn't appreciate Ace holding him responsible for the prank to escape punishment.

Levi doesn't like the idea of you dating in general, but when he meets Ace, the third brother, he definitely doesn't want you to date him.

He can see right through Ace's bright personality and knows a 'demon' is hidden behind it.

Levi has a 'told you so' moment when Ace shows his verbally brutal and prankster side. Since then, he maintains his distance from Ace, not wanting to hear his brutal words or be a prank target.

He is the only brother who completely opposes you dating Ace.

After studying Ace's personality, Satan doesn't expect much from him until he realizes that your boyfriend is much cleverer than he leads others to believe.

Satan also sees Ace as a partner in crime when it comes to pranking, but much to the fourth brother's dismay, your boyfriend refuses to prank Lucifer out of fear respect.

One thing about the redhead that annoys Satan is Ace's lack of focus, especially in his studies. If someone has the intelligence to do well, then why not try to do well to succeed in life?

Initially, Asmo sees Ace as a cutie and a breath of fresh air, but seeing your boyfriend's pranks makes him feel like he's just like his brothers - more chaos in the family.

The fifth brother absolutely dislikes Ace's brutal honesty, mainly when your boyfriend targets Asmo's insecurities. It makes him want to cry.

Overall, he doesn't mind you dating Ace but could do without the pranks and unnecessary brutal honesty.

He happily welcomes Ace into the family and admires your boyfriend's energetic and bright nature.

But Beel doesn't understand why Ace keeps staring at him while he is eating. Is it really that amusing to watch him eat?

However, the Avatar of Gluttony does not appreciate Ace pranking any of his brothers while pushing the limits.

He thinks Ace is too energetic and feels drained just seeing your boyfriend's enthusiasm.

Though Belphie finds Ace's pranks funny, as long as the pranks are not on him or Beel, sometimes he thinks Ace pushes the limits more than he should.

Most of all, Belphie is amused by your boyfriend's brutally honest nature.

He doesn't mind you dating Ace but will get upset or agitated if the redhead tries to prank him or Beel.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2] ➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3]

➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Open || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Open

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[lxdymoon0357]

Hello I was wondering if u did crossovers bc I got a crazy idea. What if u did a cross over with the villainess is a marionette, villains are destined dj die, and the way to protect the female lead? Like she is Penelope’s sister and she keeps getting transported in other worlds by mistake? And they’re all Yandere fore her? U obviously doing have to do this but this is just a e crazy idea 😅

(cool idea, but it's just blood.... Also Ashil passed his test and lived because I wanted him too!)

Crossover:

Villains are destined to die X Villainess is a marionette X The way to protect the female lead's older brothers X Reader HCs

※You were the only sister of Penelope, you both were extremely lucky and grateful to be taken in by the Eckhart family, they treated your sister nicely as well, but unlike your sister, you had a special power that is to move between three world where you’re meant to make people meet destiny, or something similar to that, your mother explained it to you, but you were very young to understand anything.

※ You grew up being a beloved child by your mother, sister and the people of the Eckhart duchy, you were seen as the kindest, prettiest and a gifted child by all.

※You met many people, including the royal rat with rubies for eyes, Vinter Varnandi, Yvonne and Ecklies, you quickly managed to form a dear companionship with each of them and quickly making them yanderes for you.

※You were quite close with your sister and hated the people in the manor for treating your elder sister badly, often triggering your power and transporting them somewhere and when they would come back they would either be dead or badly hurt.

※You formed a big companionship with Callisto, the crown prince who later on fell for Penelope and kept her close with him to keep you near him as well.

※You grew up healthy and grifted loved by your trashy brothers, you father, your annoying servants, your lovely sisters and many more people.

※When you grew up, the Eckharts learnt about your power and all your family loved you, then it was time to train your power, upon moving to one of the places you ended up bruised and fainted in a huge garden, when you woke up there was a beautiful man sleeping in a chair next to you, he looked extremely regal; He had short blonde hair with blue eyes and pretty lips with lashes, as you sat up in bed someone held your shoulder and slowly fluffed up your pillows, it was a girl who looked similar to the man sitting in the chair, she was one of the prettiest lady you had ever met, she had long blonde hair with shining blue eyes with pretty lashes and red lips.

※You later on learned their names, Cayena and Rezef Hill, they both were half siblings and the next emperor and princess in line for the throne

※You quickly managed to befriend them both, those two would spoil you rotten and also tried to keep you with them for as long as possible, you also met Cayena’s fiancée and half-brother, Raffealo Kedrey and Ethel Hill, both of whom you also happen to quickly befriend.

※They quickly became big yanderes for you, and upon learning how you got here and your power, they decided to slowly teach you about it, but not let you leave them, which was a big thing. They thought to keep you with them, while letting you visit your family for a few days every five months.

※So, once when Rezef was training you, you accidently ended up in a large, bloody field in someone’s arms, as you as you fell in their arms you fainted from exhaustion, but before you fainted you saw black grey hair with red eyes.

※As you woke up, you were in a huge red room completely bandaged, as you sat up you saw the door open, with three people entering, the man whom you saw before with a younger version of him and a gorgeous lady with blonde hair and ruby red eyes, with plump, red lips and a sharp face. The man who caught you was named Lant Agriche, his younger version was his son, named Dion Agriche and the lady was his beloved daughter, called Roxanne Agriche, you had ended up in the manor of Black Agriche.

※Lant had saw you falling from the sky and quickly caught you before you fainted in his arms, he saw your face and was mesmerized by it?...You don’t understand but that’s what Roxanne said, he brought you back to the manor carrying your princess style shocking everyone there, seeing the head of the family holding someone so tenderly, even more a beautiful person.

※You quickly took over the head’s heart as a dear child and he decided to make sure you were kept as safely as possible only letting a few people see you when you were knocked out for the days, them being only Sierra and Ashil, and maybe Roxanne on days when Lant was in very good mood.

※Ashil would describe you to Roxanne, Roxanne when she first got to see you was mesmerized by you, you were very pretty. She would constantly try to make Lant happy so he would let her see you.

※Sierra on the other hand would look after you, along with Ashil who would try to find some books on how to cure you fatser.

※Everybody in the Agriche manor wanted to see you, the lucky servants would tell about you to other servants who were asking them about you, everybody was curiously waiting for you to quickly heal so they could also see you and meet, including Grizelda, Fontaine, Maria, Jeremy, Charlotte, Dion and many more, I mean who wouldn’t be if they saw Lant carrying someone so tenderly.

※Now back to the present, as you sat up and saw the three come in and take a seat on the chair near your bed, Lant immediately put his hand on your shoulder and laid you back on the bed, while the other two sat on the other side.

※As the doctor came and checked up on you and gave you shots, Lant held your tiny hand in his, often using his other hand to stroke your hair and warm face with tenderness, which shocked the other two more.

※You quickly became the favorite between the Agriches, Dion loved you so much, you got gifts, sweets, treats, party invites and much, much more constantly.

※But you were also kept locked up in a room for hours on end, unless Lant would visit you with a beaming smile on his face, you were kept like this in the Eckhart manor as well, so it didn’t faze you.

※You would then by taught by the three family how to use your power and learn about it, so they can make a place where you power won’t work so you can’t teleport away from them anymore.

※Other than this type of behavior, you loved your families very much, you introduced everyone to each other, Roxanne, Cayena and Penelope got along very well always talking shit about someone they don’t like, Rezef, Callisto and Dion also became good friends often teaching each other if they tried to get to close to you their favorite torture methods, Jeremy and Reynold made a normal companionship and Sierra and Ashil became very close with Yvonne and Vinter, they would be the kindest to you and the most patient with you as well.

※You would often unknowingly cause arguments between the families, especially Rezef, Ashil, Callisto and Dion when you said your favorite brother was Ashil, he became a bit cocky for some time to the others people of his new found families and his own family.

※Everyone accepted each other, mainly because they all enjoyed blood, you would mostly be in the eyes of Lant, Dion, Ashil or Callisto, no one else because they all fall prey to your puppy eyes.

※They all end those people’s life in the most horrific way, the ones who tried to hurt you or get you away from them in any way.

※They love you so much, aren’t you happy having such a large family!!!

[twistedroseytoesy]

May I request Ace + Octavinelle with an cauliflower jellyfish reader?

Cauliflower jellyfish is a pacific jellyfish species found in the Indo-pacific and the Atlantic Oceans. It is a giant old-world water jellyfish with an odd purple umbrella-shaped bell! They are sometimes called crown jellyfish, which may confuse with the completely unrelated Attollas, also called crown jellyfish.

Cauliflower jellyfishes tolerate freezing water and often live in depths over 3000 meters (9842 ft). They mostly live in the Pelagic zone of many oceans and seas. Their diet consists of Algae, shrimp, plankton, fish eggs, and invertebrate larvae.

woa! That’s really cool! And heck ya I can do this love learning about new sea life! such a pretty yet odd jellyfish!

Said jelly just under the cut as usual.

Description

you usually lived your days floating around the sea and enjoying the currents as you went. you had a large somewhat inverted bell at your hips your tentacles hanging below. you are about 3 feet tall in your mer form, with about 1-foot-long tentacles hanging below you. your skin is a pale semi-translucent purple. You have blue frill-like things on your shoulders. You have short, dark, purple hair and the bell at your hips is a pretty golden/orange color with light blue tentacles hanging below your form.

In your human form, you have fairly pale and near-grey skin, it is a grey-purple color in direct sunlight. Your shoulders are a blue color, almost like they are constantly bruised. you enjoy more flowy, light clothing and wear easy-to-slip-off sandals. You are fairly boneless like other invertebrate merfolk. along your lower legs are lines that mimic your stinging tentacles. your stinging ability is mostly stuck to your legs and feet. so if you ever felt threatened a good kick would have someone doubled over for a few hours.

Octavinelle

Azul: didn’t realy pay you much mine since you just wandered around campus like some sort of ghoul. If you were dumb enough to sign any of his contracts he’ll try to have you waiting tables. When someone tried to harass you and you knocked them out with a strong slap kick. You were then just kinda set to wander with light waiting and secondary security when Floyd skips work. After his overblot he’s glad you’re pretty easy going and forgiving.

When he got to see your enemies he definitely saw a nice money opportunity. Your mer form was regal and beautiful! It would be a beautiful display and you could just float around the tank! But if you didn’t want that then he wouldn’t pressure you much. But he does admire your strange beauty and colors. Is anyone tried to make fun of your for looking like a stupid or weird jellyfish rest assured he will defend you.

Jade: was interested by your pale and somewhat deathly complexion. Asked about your health and you just said it was normal. Under the sunlight then it finally clicked what you were. He liked to observe how you were daily relaxed in your way of thinking. Yet wouldn’t hesitate to kick someone and leave them with a painful aching spot. A bit surprised that your stinging venom is only in your legs but can’t help but smirk when you jump kick someone. might ask you to teach him how to use his legs in a similar matter.

When he saw your mer form he chuckled a bit at your odd shaped bell and bright colors. Assured you it’s fine and that you look very pretty in the water like this. Such vibrant colors would make a fine display in t he lounge aquarium. There would be many happy to watch you float around. If you say no he’ll understand though. Just an offer~

Floyd: little anemony! squishy little thing. With a stinging kick. Likes to poke and prod at you since you’re so jelly like. Calls you anemone since you remind him of a darker type of anemone he’s seen. He just giggled when you try to use your stoning kick against him. Demands asks you to teach him how to kick like that. And in turn he teaches you how to squeeze someone.

when he first saw your merform he realized you were a cauliflower jelly and started to call you by that. Loved to poke and bounce your shoulder frills and just bike at your squishy form in general. He’s a menace to jellyfish and bounces you lol a ball. Launching you through the water despite you trying to sting him. His slime is too thick he’ll explain while bouncing you more. Makes sure you’re fine but love to play with you.

With Special guest

Ace: teases that you look like the ramshackle ghosts with your pale almost deathly complexion. He likes to poke and prod at you many times during class and when just waking around. He tags along on your wandering so he has an excuse to get away from his regular responsibilities. When he saw your blue shoulders he was a bit conserved. Joking at how clumsy you are. You just remark that those are normal. They don’t hurt and nothing wrong. He likes to look at you in the sunlight since your skin is a pretty purple.

when he first saw your mer form he laughed. Pretty rude but once he got himself together he explained that he eats laughing because for 1 the completion made sense, 2 Floyd name for you was dead on, and 3 you did look kinda funny though. Liked to bounce the blue frills on your shoulders and poke at the golden ring around your hips. Careful to avoid your stingers. Other than that though he doesn’t really care that you’re a mer person. As long as you’ve got his back then he’s got yours.

[lazaruspiss]

Dude you got me hooked on the dynamic now, Sladicktalia grabbed me by the throat until I wrote something!!! Slightly nsfw snippet ahead:

“So, you’re the man that raised my son.”

Dick swallows uneasily as Deathstroke pushes him to his knees in front of the armchair Talia Al Ghul is lounging in. The slit of her dress leaves little to the imagination, especially the golden dagger tucked into the lace garter around her tan, muscular thigh.

“Bruce raised him, I just- I just was there for him as well.”

She takes a sip of whiskey before reaching for a sleek looking lighter. “Don’t be so humble, Richard. It doesn’t suit you.”

Dick wipes at his bloody nose with his bound hands before plastering on his signature smirk. “Yeah, well he turned out to be a good kid, obviously got that from me.”

Her painted lips barely quirk as she holds up the lighter in his direction. Nightwing’s been so focused on Talia he nearly forgets about the threat at his back.

The mercenary presses up against him fully, leaning forward so Talia can light his cigar. Slade isn’t someone you should ignore, but Dick’s known him long enough to receive special privileges.

Deathstroke puffs on his cigar and runs a familiar hand through the kid’s hair that makes him freeze. Sure, they’ve fucked a couple of times, but it’s always been covertly, their little secret.

Dick clears his throat, trying to focus. “Why am I here, you don’t seem the type to hire Deathstroke to do your dirty work, Talia.”

She leans forward, her breasts nearly falling out of her dress, and her pointed slipper easing between Dick’s spread thighs. Talia nods at the man behind him.

Slade’s breath is hot on his nape as he leans down. “I caught you for free, little bird.” He whispers in Dick’s ear while freeing his hands with a knife.

Talia’s foot brushes his crotch, the mercenary still a solid wall behind him. “You see, Slade and I were just discussing our conquests, you happened to come up.”

Dick tries not to react to the beautiful woman caressing him. His mouth feels dry, desperately trying to wet his lips, trapped between the two gorgeous, living weapons.

“All good things, I hope.” He says, his voice weaker than he’d prefer.

“Only the best.” Talia assures, gently but firmly grabbing his chin between her thumb and index finger.

Slade’s hand still buried in his hair and her’s directing his gaze upwards, Dick feels entranced between them. The mercenary bends down to catch Talia’s lips passionately above him.

Dick can’t help but harden under Talia’s foot, watching the two of them make out above him, their tongues flashing as quick as swords.

They break apart breathlessly, both of them looking down at Dick with lust blown pupils. Slade chuckles lowly and kisses up her jawline to speak quietly in her ear. “I told you he’d be into this.”

Talia hums amusedly in response as she straightens, “So, Richard. Slade told me that you are quite the giver…”

She unzips her dress and stands to let it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing but her shoes, garter, and dagger. Talia sits back down as regally as ever, spreading her legs invitingly.

“Why don’t you crawl over here and show me.”

SCREAM. AAAAAAA. thank u, i owe u a blood debt, this is so cool. incredibly proud to have somewhat caused this, mwah mwah

[steviesbicrisis]

I can't believe I never thought about this but Eddie as Han Solo and Steve as Princess Leia would be??? So fucking cool?? What the fuck??

I can totally see Eddie being a cool smuggler who doesn’t give a fuck about anything but his ship and making good money until he gets involved into the Rebel Alliance by the most beautiful -but also feisty- Prince he has ever seen.

Prince Steve is different from the idea of Royalty that Eddie had in mind: he’s brave, compassionate, kind, and always puts his people before himself. He’s also a lovely pain in the ass.

Eddie hides his growing feelings behind the bickering they do on a daily basis because 1 there’s no way the Prince is interested in men and 2 even if he was, he would never pick a good-for-nothing scoundrel like him.

But the more he teases him, the more his convictions crumble: Steve always bites back but seems to enjoy it; he never lets him undermine his qualities ("we need you" "you have got what it takes" Eddie replays these moments in his head constantly); when he enters a room, he immediately feels Steve’s eyes on him; whenever he’s around, Steve finds an excuse to talk and follow him, even if it’s just to argue the whole time; when they fight, the tension in the air is so high he has to use all of his willpower to not push Steve against the wall and make him scream his name.

Eddie might have some insecurities but he has had enough experience with men in his life to understand what is going on between them. He had tried to make the Prince admit to it, but he never gave in. Eddie couldn't tell if it was out of pride, internalized homophobia, or worse if he was actually completely wrong and Steve had never taken any interest in him.

Now, as he’s being tied up and dragged God knows where by Empire scum, he regrets not making a move first. He should've told Steve how he felt ages ago, if only he wasn't such a coward.

Another thing he regrets? not punching his dear old smuggler "friend" the minute he had flirted with Steve, right in front of him.

Would've stopped him from betraying them? probably not, but he would've loved a small satisfaction.

He's scared shitless, but he doesn't want to give the enemy any pleasure. He also avoids Steve's intense stare until the last moment.

Once he does look, for the first time since he met him, Steve's thoughts and emotions are easy to read, like an open book: he has that regal stance he takes for important businesses and meetings, but he's clearly raging inside. He's barely keeping calm, waiting for Eddie to say anything, to ask for anything because he would do it, he realizes. He would fight each and every man of the Empire in that room just to save Eddie. And now Eddie knows.

So he doesn't ask, he leans in and kisses him, Steve kisses back immediately. Eddie would stay like this until his lungs beg for air, but he's forced back by two stormtroopers.

Now that he knows, he can't stop looking at Steve, he wants him to be the last thing he sees.

Steve realizes that Eddie won't let him do anything to save him, so he does the thing Eddie has always asked of him. He gives in.

«I love you,» he says, loud and clear.

«I know.»

Eddie smiles at him, then everything goes dark.

Part 2

[saintsenara]

written for day 13 of @remadoramicrofics, for the prompt bones.

There was whisky in the sideboard.

It was Muggle whisky. Dad’s. From some distillery in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Hebrides, sold in Harrods and delivered by Uncle Tony every Christmas in wrapping paper printed with snowmen scrabbled from the bargain bin at Woolworth’s.

It was used exclusively for celebration. For the days you wanted to preserve in amber; the days when dad was pink-cheeked and roaring with laughter, and mum was tipsy and willing to regale them both with ridiculous stories from her childhood, instead of keeping all of it locked up in some secret place they could never reach from their little suburban house. It was whisky you toasted with, and tossed back on New Year’s Eve, and looked the other way about when your daughter and her best mate got pissed as newts on it the day their OWL results came, and Jade was sick in the bin and she was sick in mum’s hydrangeas.

It was whisky for joy.

That was, perhaps, why it hadn’t been opened the day she’d announced she was married.

There was stubble on Remus’ chin, its brown - mousy, rather than wolfy - flecked with grey. His face was growing sharper; he was no giddy newlywed, content to grow fat on his loving wife’s cooking now he’d left his bachelor days behind him. His wife could cook nothing more sophisticated than supernoodles, could do nothing more than press kisses to hollowing cheeks, to the angular juncture where the jawbone meets the neck, as if to say, let me warm you up, since I cannot make you any fatter, I can at least make you warm.

‘Did you find him?’ she asked, and it shocked her to hear that her voice was so small, as if something of it had been left in the night skies, caught by a Death Eater’s curse.

Remus shook his head. His temples were grey too, and she cursed herself for not being able to coax colour back into them. Love should have done that. It had for her, had turned her back into the rainbow-lustered creature who looked so wrong in mum’s neat living room, with its doilies and its aspidistra. Her childhood had been one of scolding, for chocolatey fingers on the chintzy arms of chairs and the coffee table broken when she tripped and fell over it.

‘Hagrid upended the entire lounge,’ mum had sniffed, when she’d returned - shaking and weary-eyed - from the Burrow. That could be easily translated, provided you were fluent in Andromeda Tonks, to Nymphadora, I’m so frightened.

‘Yeah, well, he’s massive, isn’t he?’ she had replied. That meant your sister tried to kill me. You have the same eyes.

And then she had sat in the dark, a mug of tea untouched before her, the milk turning to scum as it cooled. Her thoughts were nothing more coherent than flashes. Of green light. Of the set of Bill’s jaw, knotty scars running down it. Of Muggle towns twinkling below her like stars. Of the wobble in Mad-Eye’s jowls they all used to tease him about - on the easy days in the office, before there had been a war on - formed by the ready supply of chocolate biscuits in the staff kitchen. Of the way his face had been clenched - in the way you had to know him well to notice, but which, if you did, you knew meant he was worried - just before they’d risen from the ground into armageddon.

Almost as if he’d been expecting it.

She had sat, a picture-reel flickering in her mind, and waited for the scrape of a key in the door and the weary trudge of a man who should have been too young to be weary. Who should have bounced across the threshold to meet her, a bridegroom desperate to get home to his bride.

‘Did you find him?’

Remus shook his head. He was thin. When they lay in bed together, she could run her fingers up each bump in his spine, across each rib, along the hollows of his hip bones. Like an explorer, searching for something lovely in a wasteland, for a place where the sun shone upon pale stone. For a place where she could be the sun. Let me warm you up.

‘No,’ he said, and his voice was hoarse. He had obviously used up all the vigour he possessed to yell at Harry.

He walked to the sideboard and took out the whisky. Because he didn’t know that it wasn't the time to drink it, that it wasn't the booze they brought out in times of mourning. Because he was a stranger to the house, and that was why there was tension in every bone of mum’s hands when she passed him his morning coffee at their sunny little breakfast table, and that was why she looked at Tonks as though she had brought doom into their perfect world.

That’s vampires, mum. You don’t have to worry about inviting werewolves in, she had thought. What she had said was, ‘stop being so fucking prejudiced.’

‘Your father is making plans to flee,’ mum had replied, matter-of-factly, as if she said such things every day. ‘When the Dark Lord takes over. It will not be safe for him to remain here, not when there will be two wanted paramilitaries living in the house.’ She stirred a spoon through her tea, clinking it against the side of the mug. ‘We were left alone by him last time, of course. We kept our heads down. But you and Remus have put paid to that.’

And, for once, there had been no second meaning.

‘No,’ he said. He poured the whisky into a glass, his thin fingers tight around it, as though he was hoping it would shatter and rip through his flesh to the bone. He tossed his drink back. ‘No. The Death Eaters probably got there first.’

‘Oh.’

A muscle ticked in his jaw. She wanted to kiss him, to cup his face with her hands, to graze her teeth across his stubble and make him forget. She wanted to make him warm, to make him say that he loved her, to lie down with him and count the ladder of his vertebrae, and ignore for a few tender hours the fact that their days were running out. She wanted to pretend that their number had not become one fewer that night.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he said.

He pressed a kiss - lips closed and tight - to her cheekbone. And his skin was cold from his futile toil in the night air.

[cheapsweets]

The stately Raggfong

My response to this week's BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

Once more, I ask you to consider, are birds jerks? The authors of medieval bestiaries seem to think, yes, they are!*

Initial pencil sketch for the proportions, then Sailor fude nib fountain pen for the inking, with Rohrer & Klingner Sepia ink, on A5 paper (90gsm).

I'd already determined that for the next bird that came up, I wanted to try putting more detail on the feathers; unfortunately I fear this may have gotten in the way a little, as it makes it more difficult to see the chicks the Raggfong is holding in each of it's claws. Hopefully what I was trying to achieve comes across enough! :D

*except for coots; coots, apparently, are awesome.

Reasoning below the cut, as per usual...

"The Raggfong is so called because of the sharpness of its eyes, for it is said to be of such keen vision that it glides above the sea on unmoving wings, out of human sight, yet from such a height sees small fish swimming below and, swooping down like a missile thrown from a siege engine, it seizes its prey on the wing and carries it to land."

- That's quite some description already! My first thought was of some kind of dragon, soaring high above the seas, except that a) we've already had a dragon, and b) the description later states that we're talking about a bird. I tried to make its eye nice and big, to represent it's sharp vision, and we have the suggestion of waves down below (and a very worried looking medieval fishie...!).

"When the Raggfong grows old, however, its wings grow heavy, and its eyes grow dim. Then it seeks out a spring and, turning away from it, flies up into the atmosphere of the sun; there it sets its wings alight and, likewise, burns off the dimness in its eyes in the sun’s rays. Descending at length, it immerses itself in the spring three times; immediately it is restored to the full strength of its wings, the former brightness of its eyes." - This is all cool, but I couldn't work out how best to represent this without detracting from what else I wanted to do with it.

"It is also said of the Raggfong that it exposes its young to the sun’s rays, holding them in its claws in mid-air. If any of them, struck by the light beating down from the sun, maintains a fearless gaze without damaging its sight, this is taken as proof that it has shown itself true to its nature. But if the young bird turns its eyes away from the rays, it is rejected as unworthy of its kind and of such a father and, being unworthy of being begotten, it is considered unworthy of being reared."

- The Raggfong definitely seems to be an ocean bird; it doesn't read like a hawk, which confused me a bit at first, since how is it grabbing things (including its chicks) with webbed feet? However, after a little research I found that some waterbirds (including coots!) have lobate feet; lobes of skin on either side of the toes that expand when it swims, but probably wouldn't get in the way when it held things. I wasn't able to include enough detail to show this, but cool fact nontheless.

The legs were based on an osprey (just in terms of managing to hold something within its claws), and the general body shape and wings on a cormorant (mostly because I could find reasonably good references!)

We can see the Raggfong holding up two of its chicks, one in each claw; the one on the left of the picture stares defiantly at the sun (I'm not convinced this will help its keen vision...), but the one on the right of the picture is more sensible and is looking away... :(

"The Raggfong condemns it not in a harsh manner but with the honesty of a judge."

- Birds. Are. Jerks. :p

"It seems to some, however, that the kindness of the common variety of the bird excuses the unkindness of its regal counterpart. The ordinary bird is called [redacted], coot; in Greek, [redacted]. Taking up the young Raggfong, abandoned or unacknowledged, the coot adds it to its brood, making it one of the family, with the same maternal devotion as it shows to its own young, and feeds and nourishes the young Raggfong and its own brood with equal attention."

- The description of the Raggfong as 'regal' informed how I approached the head. I wanted to make it at least a little fancy, and considered a variety of options (including long, flowy eyebrows - and even a lyrebird/bird of paradise inspired tail before realising that would decidedly get in the way of catching fish) before I settled on a grebe-inspired crest, loosely resembling a crown.

Now coots, I know what they look like! In the bottom right we see a parent coot with three of its babies, as well as a young Raggfong it adopted. Its nice to know that some of these bestiary entries have a happy ending!

As an aside, I haven't managed to capture exactly how scrungly baby coots look; they are absolutely delightful! :D

[beneathashadytree]

SOPHISTICATION - JIN GRANDET X READER

Warnings : pretty suggestive, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : sensual fluff

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : This was entirely inspired by @randonauticrap ‘s—very relatable—rants about Jin, and @atelier-the-atelier ‘s post from a while back about the elegant, mature vibes Jin exudes. It’s been living in my head rent-free😮‍💨

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

Jin’s hands were big; big enough to span the entirety of their lower back when he wrapped them up in his arms like this. It was equal parts comforting and exhilarating, mellow pleasure shooting down their spine with every gentle caress of their skin.

Crossing their legs to sit upright properly, they leaned even further into his embrace, almost melting into his lap. He smelt of sandalwood and patchouli, a mix so heady and rich it almost caused them to shiver with the subtle want that always lingered whenever they sat with their lover.

With the elegance only a regal Rhodolitian prince could have, he took a sip of the expensive wine in the crystal glass in his hand resting on the armchair. In the most enticing way possible, his lips—once removed and knowingly smirking at them, like he knew perfectly well just how his appearance affected them—were stained rouge and damp.

As he invited them to have a taste with a slight slant of his wine glass, Jin’s daring fingers trailed down, tantalizingly close to their backside. Garnet eyes roved over their entire figure languidly draped over him, so closely entwined in a way similar to how they always were between the sheets.

Their throat bobbed with every swallow of the slightly-sweet alcohol, and Jin’s narrowed eyes caught every subtle movement. Their own sparkling eyes met his, and the mere look in them was like a sensual beckoning to him, or a salacious caress with the moon as their only witness.

“You like it?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the rich baritone warming them down to the very tips of their feet—or perhaps that was the wine, paired with his palm massaging them through the thin fabric of their loungewear.

Jin smelled and sounded far too intoxicating for them to even muster anything but a barely-there nod. And they certainly couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying they liked—was it the sting of the expensive liquor? Or was it his undivided attention, and the unabashed desire in his eyes?

In all cases, they wanted more. A bold hand crept through the top of his unbuttoned shirt, usually so crisp but now rumpled in a way reminiscent to how they always left him after a tryst of passion. He was the image of pure eroticism and adoration, all in one ridiculously elegant package.

And they loved every bit of him.

They stroked the hard planes of his chest, a satisfied little smirk of their own making its way on their face as they felt his heartbeat thumping against their palm. After all this time, they still reveled in the way they flustered him, regardless of how poised and charming he tried to appear on the outside. That was the cool façade of a man head over heels in love, and they could always see through Jin’s.

“I’d say you liked it more,” they chuckled, lightly scraping their nail against the exposed tan skin and getting a thrill out of the shiver that coursed through his body. His eyes flashed, and for a moment they could swear that his passionate gaze had turned rather desperate.

Somehow, he managed to find the words. “I’d like it even more if we spent the rest of the night in bed.”

“And what exactly do you have planned for us in bed?” They toyed with the threads of his shirt; anything to busy their fingers and feign nonchalance, despite him consuming their every thought at the moment.

“Sit and talk for a while. Y’know, I really miss you when you’re not with me,” Jin mumbled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to their temple, before breathing out a laugh at the way they fidgeted in his lap. “Kiss a little. Take our time with that.” His other hand, now free of the wine glass, reached up to thumb at their dewy lips as he grinned disarmingly. “Maybe even make love until the break of dawn?”

It was all-too-tempting to give in to their lover’s whims; fantasies that they knew they’d enact—and then some. With their heart pounding in their chest with anticipation, they wrapped their arms around his neck, swallowing thickly and watching his corded muscles flex with the shifts in movement as he began to lift them up. Too easy; it was far too easy to get lured in by his timeless, effortless beauty.

“Yes to all of that,” they sighed, a little dreamily and very much in love all over again. “Let’s make up for lost time, Jin.”

Taglist: —

[evilwriter-originals]

Clipped Wings - Chapter 2

A/N: I'm doing a tag list for this story! Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

@samatedeansbroccoli @lashlamb13

---

Anaria’s feet hurt. She’d been standing almost all day for the portrait, and taking breaks in between for food and rest hadn’t helped much. Her father seemed to be in a similar position, as he’d ordered servants to bring their dinner to the room instead of adjourning to the formal dining room.

Anaria liked to have Sylvae join her for her meals, but Sol ordered her and his own guard away. It seemed he wanted to talk to her in private. 

Which… made her nervous. Was he aware of her recent unguarded outings? She was 21, but when your father was the king, there was no such thing as being too old to get a scolding. 

Sol didn’t get right down to business though. Instead, as he cut into his steak, he asked: 

“Did you enjoy the painter’s work?”

Anaria and Sol had been able to view what the painter had had of the portrait before he left. He was almost finished with it after working all day, though there were parts of Anaria’s face that were unfinished. 

“I did,” Anaria responded, still wondering what her father really wanted to speak with her about. Both she and her father had looked regal in the piece, but close, bonded. It was a good rendition of how they really could be… If her father didn’t avoid talking to her.

“Good.” Sol chewed thoughtfully, as if pondering his words. Anaria was on the edge of her seat with anticipation, barely touching her food. 

“I do not know when the portrait will be finished,” he finally said. “As I have business in Shimmerfort.”

Anaria furrowed her brow. “Isn’t Shimmerfort abandoned?” She knew her geography. Shimmerfort was a fort on the northern edge of Nessar bordering Aborsken. Well, it was more straddling the line between the two kingdoms. Why would her father be going there? 

“For the moment,” Sol said. “But I have been in correspondence with the King of Aborsken, and—”

“You’ve been in contact with humans?” Anaria asked incredulously. She hadn’t meant to interrupt, but she was shocked upon hearing this news. Why hadn’t her father told her of this sooner? 

“We’ve had peaceful years with them,” Sol answered coolly. “At least, with the ones from Aborsken.”

Anaria just nodded. She sipped at her wine, but made a face and reached for her water. She needed something to cool off with.

“I would like to propose a treaty with them,” Sol continued. “There have been reports of trouble stirring in Esken, of armed groups making it past our borders.”

Anaria hadn’t known that. Her mouth felt a little dry, and so she drank more water. Maybe she really should have Sylvae with her on her outings from the palace. 

“Have there been any… altercations?” Anaria questioned. She was upset that her father had seemingly been keeping all this to himself. She was the princess and heir to the throne for gods’ sakes! Shouldn’t she know about all this?

“A few,” Sol told her. “We still have no idea what their motivations are, but we’ve had peace with Aborsken for years. I thought meeting with their king would be a good idea.”

Anaria tried to remember her lessons. Esken had been a part of Aborsken once, before a civil war decades ago had torn the country in two. They both bordered the north of Nessar. A queen whose name Anaria could not recall ruled Esken, while Dyon Ravenhelm was the current king of Aborsken. He was around the same age as her father, which might make negotiations easier. The Nessari lived much longer lives than humans, and she knew that humans resented them for that. 

“Why are you only telling me of this now, on the eve of your travels?” Anaria asked. She was unable to keep a biting tone out of her voice. 

Sol sighed, looked down at his plate. “I meant to tell you. I… suppose I didn’t want to frighten you. Peace is all you’ve ever known. I did not want to disrupt that.”

“Keeping me in the dark doesn’t help,” Anaria snapped. “I’m your heir. You should have told me.” 

Sol put down his silverware, rubbed his face with one hand, then reached for his goblet. After a long drink in which Anaria was left bristling in the silence, he said: “I should have.” 

“I’m not a child.”

“I know.” 

“Then don’t treat me like one!” Anaria cried indignantly. 

Sol pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Look, I am sorry, Anaria.” He finally met her gaze. “I will keep you informed on my travels, alright?”

Anaria wanted to continue to vent her anger, but instead bit her tongue and nodded. 

“If you would like to be caught up with everything, there is one more thing you must know.” Sol’s voice sounded grave, serious.

“Oh?” Anaria asked, trying to—if not remain calm, at least sound that way. 

“King Dyon and I have been sending letters,” Sol began. “We think the best way to ensure a treaty and peace between our kingdoms would be a marriage.”

Anaria was struck with disgust. “I am not marrying someone your age.”

“No, you won’t be. He has a son: Girad.”

“I…” Anaria trailed off, completely unsure of what to say. She’d known her whole life that marriage would not be something of love for her, but something arranged. It was a duty she had to her kingdom. But to marry a human? She’d thought she’d be marrying one of the Nessari lords or their sons. She’d never even met a human before!

“I know it’s not what you wanted,” Sol said, easily reading her. “I’m sorry.”

Anaria wanted to snap at her father that apologies didn’t matter right now, but instead she abruptly stood from the table. Her dinner was half finished, and she was still hungry, but she could bear this conversation no longer. 

“Anaria—”

She left the room in long strides, and found Sylvae outside the door, waiting for her. She just waved her hand at her to follow, teeth clenched. She didn’t want to take out her anger on her friend and bodyguard. Sylvae silently fell into step beside her.

“I suppose dinner didn’t go well,” Sylvae assumed after some time in which the silence grew uncomfortable and the tension had to break. 

“No, it didn’t,” Anaria said. She stopped for a moment, raised her eyebrows suspiciously at Sylvae. “Did you know of what has been transpiring with the humans?” 

“I did, princess,” Sylvae answered honestly.

“So no one thought to tell me?!” Anaria cried, throwing out her arms, spreading her wings. She didn’t care who passed by and heard her. “I’m an adult! I have been an adult! And yet you coddle me like my father like you’re so much older than me!”

Sylvae merely looked down at her feet, shame radiating off of her, wings tucked in close to her back. 

“My apologies, princess.” 

Anaria huffed. “An apology will not do for now, Sylvae.” She stormed off, and Sylvae made to follow, as was her duty, but Anaria stopped her with a raised hand. She could make it back to her chambers on her own. 

She’d completely forgotten about the pain in her feet.

---

After ordering dessert to be brought to her chambers and eating in simmering silence, Anaria summoned Hali. She was worried, already beginning to feel anger. What if Hali had known about all this and hadn’t told her either? What if everyone had known but her?

Hali’s smile fell when she noticed Anaria’s mood. She folded her hands in front of her, stepped towards her chair, her wings fluttering nervously.

“Yes, princess?” 

“You don’t happen to know anything about the current happenings of Aborsken, do you?” Anaria asked, tone short and a little harsh. 

Hali cocked her head. “No. Why?”

Tension left Anaria’s shoulders and she found herself able to arrange her wings a little more comfortably against her back. 

“My father has been keeping secrets,” Anaria responded. She gestured for Hali to sit across the low table from her. 

They were in her living quarters, the space cool after the heat of the day, torches lit to bring light. Anaria could summon lights herself, but that would just be a waste of energy when torches worked just fine. 

Hali came and sat across from Anaria, arranging her skirts, probably guessing she would be here for some time. Anaria was flattered by her attention, honestly. Yes, Hali was her lady in waiting, but that didn’t mean she had to be friends with her. 

But, Hali was, and so she listened to Anaria’s whole story. A frown grew on her face once it started, and then only deepened as Anaria continued. 

“He wants you to marry a human?” Hali asked, sharing Anaria’s incredulity. 

Anaria nodded, wiping some of her hair away from her face. She realized now that there would be a language barrier. She knew a good deal of Aborskenian, but would her future fiancé know Nessar? 

But that wasn’t what upset her most. What upset her was that her father had sprung this on her without even discussing it with her first. He’d had plans to go along with the marriage without her say-so. 

“Can… Nessari and humans even have children together?” Hali asked tentatively.

So many angles! That was another problem Anaria hadn’t thought about!

“I don’t know.” Anaria shook her head. Gods, she felt so helpless suddenly. Trapped. She was stuck in this position as a princess having to do the greater good for her country. 

She put her head in her hands, letting her hair fall around her face. She inhaled deeply, then looked at Hali. She didn’t want to just talk about herself, fearing that she would only annoy her. 

“How was your day?”

Hali shrugged one shoulder. “Hardly as interesting as yours.”

Anaria laughed. “Hali, I was standing in the same position for hours. Mine was hardly interesting till the end.” She leaned back in her chair and kicked off her shoes, something she should have done a while ago. She sighed at the release of the pressure on her feet. She’d like to get out of her dress too, something she would need some help with. 

“Well, I did have to fend off a man asking for you.”

“Oh?” Now Anaria was interested. Celibacy was not a thing Nessari really worried about, though she’d read about different human cultures finding importance in such things. Would Girad be like that? (That was the name of the Aborskenian prince, right?)

“I believe his name was Ruven,” Hali said, sounding a little unsure. “I was too busy avoiding questions to quite catch it.” 

“Where did you run into him?”

Hali waved a hand. “Out in the courtyard. He looked to be a gardener, actually.”

Anaria laughed. “And why did you have to fend him off?”

“You wouldn’t have liked his nose,” Hali said with a giggle. 

“Well, you do know my taste,” Anaria said, trusting Hali. “Now, the important question is, did you find him attractive?” 

“Erm… Not really.”

Hali had been in so few relationships that Anaria could count them on one hand, while she herself was alright with being labeled as promiscuous. 

“Alright.” Anaria decided not to push her. “I am probably seeing my father off tomorrow, but after that, would you like to help in my garden?” 

“I actually have lessons tomorrow.”

Anaria felt a little crestfallen. She liked when Hali helped her in her garden. Really, Anaria could have had the royal gardeners watch over her own little courtyard, but she wanted to do it herself. Where would the satisfaction of growing something be if it wasn’t actually her doing it?

“What lessons?” Anaria asked, letting herself sound disappointed. She was interested in what Hali was pursuing though. 

“Healing,” Hali said. She was arranging herself more comfortably in her cushioned chair. “Anika said she would teach me.”

Anaria nodded. “No one better to learn from.” Anika had tried teaching Anaria healing magic many a time, but she’d never caught on to it, had never really wanted to. As far as magic was concerned, she was more interested in its capabilities for battle and every day use. Healing just seemed so trivial and boring to her. 

“You should come with me.”

Anaria sighed. “Maybe I should.” It wasn’t a bad idea, considering what was happening with Esken. 

The room grew gloomy. Anaria realized that the times of peace she’d lived in her whole life might be coming to an abrupt end. Hali must have been realizing it too; Anaria guessed by the way she picked at her skirts and tightened her wings against her back. 

“Perhaps we should retire,” Hali said. She looked out towards the large glass-paned window behind her. The moon had risen high while they’d been talking, shining its copper light down upon the white stone of the palace. It looked like a good night for a flight, but Hali was right, and Anaria was tired from all the politics. 

Though it appeared that her political career was just beginning.