#mostly: just really wanted to draw him bloody | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

Text

in the shadow of your heart (part two of two)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader

requested by anon: inspired by the plot of the movie Flipped, where the reader openly pines for Daemon, but he always brushes her off until one day, she stops bothering him.

word count: 11.2k ▪︎ part one ▪︎ masterlist

themes: pining, angst, language, Daemon being Daemon, slight Cregan Stark x f!reader, some smut (18+)

“Greetings, Prince Daemon.” Cregan Stark is the first to speak. His genial manner is something that draws everyone to him, warm and earnest. The Lord of the North is much beloved, and with good reason. As he assesses Prince Daemon, he easily notices the agitation in the prince’s stance. The confusion in his eyes. If Cregan also notices the subtle envy collecting in Daemon’s expression, he does not let it show.

“Lord Stark,” he saunters in your direction, slowly, like a predator who has finally cornered his prey. Taking in the competition like a practiced fighter.

“Lady Y/n.” He calls you by name, and you realize how much of a rarity it is. It’s always just You, a statement more than an endearment, or my little shadow. You still don’t know what to make of the latter. Shadow. Does that mean you are indispensable, a part of him he can never shake? Or does he see you as an unwanted presence?

“Daemon. How have you been, my prince?” An attempt at cordiality from you. You know Daemon doesn’t care much for such dialogue, but what else is there to say?

Why did you not show up at my nameday, like you promised?

Have you been finding comfort in Mysaria’s arms?

Have I even crossed your mind, even once, or is my absence something that you welcome?

But you don’t make any of these thoughts heard. You don’t believe there would be a point. Besides, there is no need to air out your grievances whilst in the company of Cregan.

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me. I have roamed nearly every inch of the palace grounds, and I’ve only just found you. You have not come to see me as of late, either.”

“I was not aware that you were expecting me, my prince.”

He scoffs, hating how formal you were being. Was this a show you were putting on for the Stark boy? Where are your throwaway smiles and your playful quips? Your appreciative gaze, drinking him in as if it were always the first time?

Cregan comes to your rescue, “I’m afraid I may be to blame for taking up the lady’s time, Prince Daemon. She makes for excellent company, as I think you know. She’s kindly been showing me around King’s Landing.”

“You’ve been around King’s Landing before, Stark. We were not aware you have taken a particular interest in the ins and outs of the city, but we’d be more than happy to provide you with our best maester to tell you everything you need to know. I’m sure the lady has much better things to do with her time. Besides, after a while, you might like a change of scenery. One that she wouldn’t know how to provide.”

What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Of course, the first time you meet in a long while, Daemon has surely stored some kind words to tell you.

“Don’t worry, Daemon. I can assure you that we’ve been making good use of our time together,” you look at him directly, no longer bothering with the niceties. Daemon knows how you really are, after all. He’s seen you flustered, embarrassed, angry. Mostly, he’s seen you pining. Wanting. For him. You’ve always been open around him, not holding anything back. Daemon enjoyed your brazenness, so unlike the other frilly maidens who clamber for his attention. But what changed?

“If you don’t mind, Lord Stark, I’d like a moment alone with the lady.” Daemon readily meets your gaze, barely giving mind to Cregan, who is now halfway covering you from his vision, as if preparing to protect you from him should the need arise. The nerve of this fucking Northern Lord.

“Honour demands that I only leave if this is what the lady wishes, Prince Daemon.” Cregan declares, his voice steady.

Bloody Northerners and their honour. “I was not presenting you with a request, Stark. Try not to get on my nerve.”

“Alright,” you speak up, “it’s okay, Cregan. I’ll come find you later.”

Daemon notes the familiarity with which you addressed the Stark boy, and it doesn’t sit well with him. “Yes, run along, young wolf.” He doesn’t drop your gaze, doesn’t watch Cregan walk away.

So, he also does not notice Cregan throw you a comforting wink as he disappears from view, leaving you with Daemon on the rooftop. Daemon’s mood considered; this is probably for the best.

The air is thick with words unsaid, and while Daemon relaxes his stance, his face betrays a storm of emotion. Ones that he is not equipped to deal with. Jealousy? Unrequited yearning? Uncertainty? What can he possibly say that would be enough? So he settles for, “You look well, my shadow.”

“As do you, my prince. Enjoying the comforts of home, I’d hope?”

“Tell me this,” Daemon impatience flares, “why have I not seen you around? They used to be rare, the days in which you would not simply make your presence known to me.”

“That’s why I got to be called your shadow, was it not? That I was always following you around like a pest, driving you to irritation. There were moments wherein I could swear that I saw you grimace at my arrival - ”

“A pest?” He looks taken aback. He reaches for your arm, but you sidestep and fold your arms behind you, “Y/n, where is all this coming from?”

“I think you know quite well, Daemon.”

“Would it delight you to hear that I may have missed your company, no matter how unreasonably persistent it might have been?” Daemon’s smirk is dangerous, capable of breaking through your icy approach.

“Unreasonably persistent? Is this your way of making amends, my prince? You might need a lesson in tact from your markedly more diplomatic brother.”

“I was never one to bother with needless flattery. Unless directed at me, of course.” His smirk grows even wider, enjoying the resurgence of your familiar banter.

Your tone turns sour, almost angry even, one that Daemon has not heard before, “You promised that you would attend my nameday festivities, and yet you did not. I waited for you, like the stupid little shadow that you have deemed me to be, and for nothing. I don’t know why I even expected you to come, given what you clearly think of me.” Your voice breaks at the end, and it snags at Daemon’s heart.

“I did not think you cared much for such frivolities, and…well, I…”

“No, I did not. I don’t. I only cared whether you would be there, so that I might see you. So that you might greet me with the smug smirk of yours. So that you might even ask me for a dance,” you pace around Daemon, your mind lost in thought of what could have been, “But no matter. It’s all over and done with now. We can keep such nonsense in the past, Prince Daemon. You no longer need to waste your time with me.”

“Y/n,” he says your name with such clarity, such emotion, as he moves to narrow the space between the two of you, “I sincerely apologize if I was not there for your nameday. Had I thought that my presence would mean that much to you, then I surely would have come.”

That’s not enough, Daemon. That’s not what I need.

You notice the sincerity in his eyes as he continues, “I don’t want you to be cross with me. And… I don’t want you to think that I… think little of you. You are not. You are - ”

“You were like my sun, you know. My entire world revolved around you. You were in everything that I could see.” Your face morphs into a mixture of sadness, and longing, and acceptance. Daemon notes that you were speaking of things as if it were already in the past, and he does not like it at all.

He lets you continue, even though it pains him to see the turmoil in your expression, “Daemon, I… I thought about you when I woke, and when I went to bed. You were intoxicating… and fucking infuriating, because you clearly did not share the same sentiment when it came to me. I was simply there.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you fucking expect of me,” he counters, not willing to comprehend that your words can bring him to fold so quickly, “but you know exactly who I am. What I am, my shadow.”

“Did I not make it clear to you just how I felt?” You ask. Your gazes are locked and heated. The distance between you has narrowed, and he can feel your warm breath on his face. He notices the way your chest rises and falls, the slope of your breasts, the furrowing of your eyebrows which he finds endearing. You stand so close, an alluring distraction, nearly making him lose all train of thought.

“For fuck’s sake, of course. Everyone could see it!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

“And yet, it did not matter.”

“No, it matters - ” he pauses, looking away, “I just… don’t know…”

You straighten, “You know what, it’s perfectly fine, Daemon. Why were you looking for me?”

“I thought I already mentioned. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Whatever wrongs you believe I have done to you, it was never my intention. I do not wish to be rid of your presence. It does not…” When his eyes capture yours once again, you see the inner turmoil reflected within, “It does not feel right without you around… my shadow.”

You want so badly to take his hand as you had done so many times before, and reassure him that everything is fine. But Rhaenyra’s advice had struck you, so well that it rings true in your mind as you look at Daemon. “Make him hunger for you,” she had said, eyes glinting mischievously, “so that he may realize what it is he may be at risk of losing, if he does not get his act together. And, well, if he still does not treat you as you deserve, then surely someone else will.”

You would have chased Daemon to the ends of the Seven Kingdoms, but you can only pursue someone so far before you might tip over the edge of the world yourself.

“I understand, Daemon. I am not angry at you. Truthfully, I don’t think I could ever be.” You offer a comforting smile, but it does not reach your eyes.

“Very well, then. On the morrow, I shall once again conduct my training in the courtyard. I expect you to be there.”

When you narrow your eyes at his implication, he adds, softly, “I mean, I want you to be there.”

You smile, and echo his exact words from weeks ago, when you gave word to him about your festivities, “I’d be loathe to miss a good training display of yours, my prince. I’ll be there.”

There may be a lot more than needs to be said, that Daemon wants to say. But he cannot find the words. He is not even certain what it is that compelled him to seek you out today. Or if he is, he is not ready to face it yet.

“I shall take my leave, my prince,” you curtsy, “I’ll be seeing you.”

He watches as you walk away. He is covered in sunlight from where he stands, the wind gently blowing mild and pleasant. And yet he feels cold, and his spirit is strained, as if this unspoken stalemate between the two of you casts a gloom over his days. As if you had taken all warmth along with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon swings forcefully, toppling his opponent to the ground.

“Again!” He yells, “I thought you cunts are supposed to be decent fighters, at the very least. And yet even the whores in the Street of Silk might make for better competitors.”

Not one of his gold cloaks makes a move, and they all look at him warily. Their commander has been heated all morning, and they have taken the brunt of his rage.

The spectators have created a wider berth around him than usual, while they mostly whisper to each about the prince’s nasty temper.

One of the braver gold cloaks, Maron Tyrell, decides to approach him, “My prince, perhaps we should conclude our training exercise for today. The men are drained and wish to - ”

“We finish when I say so,” Daemon emphasizes every word in his displeasure, “not at your fucking heed.”

Maron persists, forgetting to mind the risk of talking back to Daemon when he is in this state, “We noticed that a certain Lady is not among the spectators, my prince. Your shadow, I think that is what you deem her to be, and rightfully so, I mean… don’t you think that actually made this morning’s activities more bearable, without her needlessly yapping at you at every-”

Maron does not get to finish his jibe about you, as Daemon pummels the young knight into the ground. His fist collides with Maron’s face, again and again, until he is pulled back by several of his struggling men.

“Prince Daemon!” A cacophony erupts around the courtyard – pleas for him to cease, gasps of shock and worry, even some callous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The rogue prince has assailed one of his very own men. One of his loyal devotees. An undignified act, even for the volatile prince.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Daemon squirms out of the grip of his men, and storms out of the courtyard, people parting like waves in his path. His knuckle is bruised and partially covered in Maron Tyrell’s blood. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care.

For what is a man without his shadow? He might as well just be gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lord Mathias Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, your Grace." A member of the Kingsguard announces the new arrival, his clear voice resounding in the throne room.

The imposing hall is nearly empty, apart from King Viserys who stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, several members of the Kingsguard, and his Hand, Lord Otto Hightower.

The elderly Tyrell walks in with a dignified air. There is a slight hunch in his posture, but his gaze is trained straight ahead. King Viserys meets him halfway, with a welcoming smile on his face, "My Lord Tyrell, what a pleasure this is, truly."

"My King," Mathias bows his head once, then looks at Viserys again, eager to finally make his appeal known, "I do hope my arrival is not untimely. It has been a while since we last convened, you and I."

"Not at all, Mathias," Viserys says, "I am always at your disposal for any important matter that you wish to bring to my attention, as I understand this is the case at present."

"Yes, well, let me begin by relaying my wife Lady Lenna's well wishes for you, my King. She feels honoured to have been a friend to your late wife Queen Aemma, and we only hope the best for your family."

Viserys nods amiably, accustomed to such flattering declarations from Lords and Ladies alike. He also knows by now that such, while potentially genuine, are usually followed by either a complaint or a petition. As if he was being softened up for what follows.

“Which is why it saddened me greatly to hear that a certain member of your family had attacked one of mine. The inducement of this remains beyond my understanding. My nephew, Maron, a member of your gold cloaks, is currently being attended to by our finest maesters, after suffering several injuries at the hands of Prince Daemon.”

“What?” Viserys’ friendly expression falls, “Daemon?” He looks toward Otto Hightower in hopes of some clarification.

“My King, we have just received word of this incident, and we were planning to discuss this in our council meeting on the morrow. The prince is required to attend, after all, which gives him a chance to elucidate his actions.” Otto explains placatingly.

“Daemon,” Viserys repeats his brother’s name, breathing it out like a curse. It was no longer any surprise to him to hear of such an act committed by his brother. He merely hoped that their occurrences would grow fewer and farther between.

“I knew you would understand the seriousness of this matter, my King. House Tyrell has, after all, always supported House Targaryen since the age of the Conqueror. All I want is for Prince Daemon to answer for what he had done to my nephew, in any way that you see fit.”

Viserys puts on his best placating smile, “Of course, Mathias. It shall be done. Now will that be all? I’m afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

The Lord of Highgarden does not fail to notice the poorly hidden irritation in the King’s face, and he is quick to be done with the formalities of making himself scarce, exchanging a few choice words before bowing and promptly leaving the throne room.

“Well?” Viserys looks around the throne room, addressing whoever might have answers, “where the fuck is he?”

Otto squirms where he stands, “I can send for him right away, your Grace.”

They will soon realize that Prince Daemon’s whereabouts will elude them that day, as he had taken refuge in the clandestine quarters of the Lady Mysaria after the incident in the courtyard. However, the usual pleasures will not be exchanged between the two. Daemon no longer possesses the eagerness to lose himself in his apparently favoured woman. Mysaria does not press on, letting the prince get some much-needed rest. She does take note of one name uttered from his lips as he succumbs into slumber. Yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council settle around the table, each one placing their round totem in front of them. The council meeting has begun.

Each Lord sits alert, ready to present their reports and findings for the week. Lord Corlys on the ongoing war in the Stepstones. Lord Beesbury on lowering the common tax for grain. Lord Lannister on arranging a play for the nobility. And so on. At the head of the table, however, their King does not appear to give off his usual air of graciousness. He leans to the side of his chair, routinely running his hand over his face in frustration.

Lord Beesbury speaks up, “Your Grace, shall we start with - ”

“Where is my brother?” Viserys’ voice is irate, his query directed at Lord Otto.

“We summoned him, your Grace, but he made it clear that he had other pressing matters to attend to.” Otto speaks slowly, clearly, in hopes that Viserys does not take his frustration out on him. “He mentioned having to meet with the Lady Y/n,” At this, Otto looks at your father across the table.

“My daughter?” Your father says, “I assure you, your Grace, I am not aware that she has any pressing matter with Prince Daemon. I would not even go so far to say that they are acquaintances.”

“Oh, Lord, you must know,” Tyland Lannister says, almost mockingly.

“Know what, my Lord?” your father asks, incredulous.

“Your daughter has been openly pining for the rogue prince. It’s common knowledge. She has not been shy about her affections, mind you,” Tyland smirks.

“I know nothing of this. My daughter has just begun a courtship with Lord Cregan Stark himself, and this I approve of. It would be unseemly for her to get involved with Prince Daemon in the way that you are insinuating.”

“What is the truth?” Viserys raises his voice, then turning to Otto, he adds, “Have you heard of this development?”

“I did not believe it to be consequential, your Grace. The prince has his share of admirers, after all.” Otto replies.

Viserys sighs heavily, thinking of how things will never just be simple when it comes to his brother. “Well, has he been receptive of the young lady’s affections?”

Lord Beesbury says, “The consensus has been that the prince has largely ignored them, your Grace.”

“Seven hells,” Viserys lets out a dry laugh in disbelief, “How come everyone knows of this matter except for me, the man in question’s own brother?”

“If I may respond to what Lord Beesbury just claimed, it does not seem that way. At least not anymore. Word has been circulating of yesterday’s incident, and apparently, the reason why Prince Daemon assaulted Maron Tyrell is because the latter brought up the subject of Lady y/n, and not in the nicest way.” Tyland says.

Lord Corlys intervenes, “Might we get on with more urgent business, lords?”

Viserys sits silently for a moment, letting all of the information sink in. He looks around the council table, baffled at the ridiculous scenario in front of him – the highest-ranking officials of the Seven Kingdoms prompted to engage in chitchat all because of this whole affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. “My lords,” he finally says, “Lord Corlys is right. We have better things to do with our time than to fucking gossip. I shall deal with my brother myself.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The same morning, in another corner of the sprawling castle, you stand in your chambers, arranging the books on the shelf. You have just gone on a stroll with Rhaenyra, and are just taking a short rest. You startle slightly when your lady-in-waiting Hestia walks in.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“To you as well, Hestia.” You smile in return.

“I have a message to relay, my lady,” she timidly says, “Earlier, when you had departed, Prince Daemon visited your chambers.”

You freeze. “Daemon?”

“Y-yes, my lady. I had walked in to change the linens, and he was already sitting there at your desk. Waiting for you, it seemed.”

“And? Did he mention anything to you?” You ask gently.

“He wants to meet you in the godswood, my lady. He said that he will anticipate you there at around noon.”

You note to yourself that noon is fast approaching. “Hmm. I see.” Hestia smiles comfortingly at you, and you can deduce that there is more that she wants to say.

“How did he seem, the prince, whilst he was here?” You engage her further, genuinely curious yourself.

“If I may be blunt, my lady, he seemed quite distressed. He appeared as if he was lacking in rest, and well… he really did seem eager to find you.”

You walk over to your chair and slump down in a dramatic huff, “Ah, it appears that I have found myself in quite the conundrum.”

Hestia smiles, following you, “What a conundrum, though, my lady. Prince Daemon and Lord Cregan vying for your hand? Nearly every eligible lady in all the kingdoms would feel envious of you.”

Your smile is wistful when you say, “It’s not quite the fairy tale that it seems, Hestia. I mean, you know how Prince Daemon is.”

“So it is Prince Daemon whom you favour?”

“What made you think so?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, my lady. It’s just that… he’s the one you chose to mention. His is always the name that you bring up, as opposed to Lord Cregan’s.”

Huh. I really must have been fixated on Daemon, haven’t I, if everyone is still of the impression that I want him, even with Cregan in the picture.

Do I want him?

“My lady?” Hestia’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” you clear your throat, and stand, “I think I have somewhere to be.”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?”

How could I ever not want him?

“Perhaps.” You look back at Hestia, eyes glinting in anticipation, before leaving your chambers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You walk through the hallways, still uncertain whether the godswood will be your destination. Whether Daemon will be your destination.

The weather is quite lovely anyway. Why not sit and enjoy some calm in the godswood? Deep down, you know that your reasoning, while sound, is a mere excuse for wanting to see Daemon.

Turning the corner, you see your father coming your way. He calls for you with a wave, and you rush toward him with a smile, “Good morrow, father.” You kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I was just heading to the godswood. Perhaps I shall take a book from the library and - ”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?” Your father's voice is stern, and you become nervous.

You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond. Your father continues, “This matter was brought to my attention, in the council meeting of all places! I felt like a bumbling fool. My own daughter, and I did not know.”

“You’re certainly not a fool, father. And - ”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Your brows furrow in frustration.

“This affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. Do you not have any mind for decency? How must this look? Cregan Stark is courting you, and here you are, running around with the rogue prince.” He speaks in hushed whispers, as if he is afraid of being overheard, but the anger in his tone can easily be detected.

“I am not sure what you heard, father, but I am not having an affair with Prince Daemon.” You lean back, also growing irate at his tone.

“Everyone knows, my child. I do know that you are intelligent, and that you mean well, but this - ”

“I was quite… smitten with him. Only that. But it is over now.”

“Is it? Then how come he apparently came to your defense yesterday, assailing Maron Tyrell when he spoke out of turn about you?”

“What?”

“Word has spread, and King Viserys has been saddled with the laborious task yet again of having to make amends on his brother’s behalf.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” You remember that you meant to visit the courtyard for his training, but instead opted to read with Cregan Stark in the library. You did not think Daemon would particularly mind, and truth be told, you wanted to give a taste of his own medicine. You made your mistake in believing that Daemon might approach it just like anyone else – with a reasonable amount of impatience and irritation. But of course, it’s Daemon.

You want to appease your father’s worries, so you say, “The next time I see Daemon, I shall make things clear. There will no longer be anything between him and I. Not that there ever was anything before.” You can’t help but look away sadly, but then your father pulls you in for a hug.

“I trust that you will do the right thing. Lord Cregan is a man of true honour and kindness. You deserve someone like him.”

“I know.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moments later, just before you make a turn into the open area of the godswood, someone catches you by the elbow.

“Hello, lass.” Cregan says. “I am happy to see you.”

“Cregan,” you attempt to hide your surprise with a smile, “ perhaps you were simply following me?”

“That idea did cross my mind, yes,” he jests in return, “but I’d much rather have you aware of my presence so you can indulge yourself in my undeniable charm.”

“Ever so humble, my Lord of the North.” You have grown accustomed to his witty quips, easily shared, making whoever he converses with comfortable. When you had mentioned it, he assured you however that the doting glint in his eyes is reserved for you only.

“Having a good day so far?” He draws you in close by the waist, his sincere gaze boring into yours.

“Very much so, thank you. I was just about to, uhm, spend some time in the godswood.”

“I shall accompany you then, my lady, if you would allow me.”

“Oh, I - ”

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice. Daemon has found you. “I thought I heard you.”

“Ah, Prince Daemon, ever a pleasure.” Cregan loosens his hold on you, but he does not let go. You notice Daemon’s eyes draw downward to Cregan’s arm around your waist, and his jaw clenches.

“Oh, I wish I could say the same, young wolf. But I have been waiting in the godswood for the Lady Y/n, and I can see that you are taking up her precious time. Keeping her from me.” Daemon spits the final words, making his annoyance clear.

“Daemon, I was just about to come see you,” you say.

“I thought you were going to spend time in the godswood?” Cregan looks at you confused.

“Yes, she is,” Daemon chimes in, “with me.”

“Simply to talk.” You start to become anxious with how the two men are sizing each other up, cold expressions plastered on their faces.

“No matter,” Cregan shrugs, “might I accompany you too, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Daemon speak at the same instant, your contrasting responses putting a pause on the whole exchange. The silence is filled with tension, with Daemon staring at you intently. A slight smirk rests on his lips, and you can tell, he is enjoying this. He takes pleasure in being able to get under your skin.

You might be right, but in that moment, Daemon’s mind also wanders to the smoothness of your skin. The fire in your eyes. His stare grazes your decolletage, exposed by your dress, the very same dress he had disparaged weeks prior. How foolish of me. Anything she wears is immediately more refined as a result. Although I’d much see rather that dress on the fucking floor.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there is still something between the two of you.” Cregan’s voice cuts through the silence. When you turn to him questioningly, he explains, “I have heard whispers here and there about a possible mutual affection that you share.”

“Prince Daemon and I are merely friends,” you clarify, “and even this I have reason to doubt.” You glare at Daemon, imploring him to not cross the line.

“We are friends,” Daemon grits his teeth, “come with me, Y/n.”

You continue to challengingly stare at Daemon, and any passer-by would immediately feel the tension. They would also be quick to assume that the connection lies between yourself and Daemon, not Cregan. Not that you would be willing to admit it straightaway.

“Forget about the godswood,” you look between both men, “Rhaenyra tells me of a travelling theatre troupe that will be conducting their show in the Red Keep this afternoon. I think I fancy heading over and seeing it for myself.”

You start to walk away, not paying mind to either the dragon or the wolf.

I’m done with this bickering. Let them follow me if they wish.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a short period of deliberating and preparing, you find yourself walking the streets of the Red Keep, with Daemon walking close to one side and Cregan to the other.

Hestia follows suit, conversing with Cregan’s young squire, Pod. You had looked back to her to give a comforting smile, and you could tell that she was slightly intimidated by the member of the Kingsguard accompanying your little group. The knight is a looming figure of hunkering armour, walking close behind her and Pod.

Daemon and Cregan both offered an arm for you to hold onto at the start of your stroll, but you avoided the pain of choosing by clasping your hands in front of you, walking forward with your head held high.

You reach the city centre, and Cregan points to a fountain in the middle of the plaza. “I remember when you took me there, darling. We had the most pleasant afternoon.”

Daemon snorts upon hearing that, “The bloody fountain?”

Pod comes up to speak with Cregan about the tasks he has to fulfill for the day, demanding his attention, and they shuffle to the side in discussion.

“Yes, Daemon, the bloody fountain. We sat, had the best lemon cakes, and conversed with the common folk. Activities that are not to your taste, I’m sure,” you matched his sardonic inflection.

“I thought you would have preferred mulberry tarts,” Daemon responds, matter-of-factly.

Your lips part in mild surprise. “How could you have guessed that?”

“You might have mentioned it once, weeks ago.”

“Huh.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. So he does listen to me.

You had the impression that all those times when you prattled in his ear, your words would simply dissolve into air. Like an incessant tune droning on in the background. Daemon always looked as if he was pondering some other more important thought.

“You continue to surprise me, Daemon.”

“And you never fail to pleasantly disrupt my life at every turn,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“Since you used the word pleasantly then I shall assume that it’s a good thing. But disrupt? How so?”

He kicks a pebble across the cobblestones, lost in thought, “This is the last thing that I would have ever expected, my shadow.”

You continue to look at him in suspense, your heart thudding in your chest. Try as you might, Daemon still has that effect on you.

He continues, “I never expected to… feel this… about you.”

“Feel what?” He turns to you, and softens at the sight of your innocent expression, your eyes wide and glistening. You’ve always gazed at him in such an open and caring manner, unaffected by the reality of his reputation. Very much unlike other people, who are almost invariably wary or distrustful when dealing with him. He has accepted that he needs someone like you. But recently, it became clearer. He only needed you.

“Prince Daemon,” a familiar soft, accented voice calls out.

The spell is broken. You turn toward the new arrival. The lady Mysaria.

“Good day, my lady,” you greet her reluctantly. You badly wish to move close to Cregan and engage him in conversation, just so you would not be privy to the interaction between Daemon and Mysaria, but something keeps you rooted in place.

“Good day to you as well, lady Y/n.”

“Have you come to watch the performance?” you tilt your head toward the stage that is being set up on one side of the plaza.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for such frivolities at present, my lady,” she smiles thinly, before turning to Daemon, “I am glad I found you, my prince. I would have waited until you eventually came to see me again, but since you are here, I want to return this to you.”

She reaches out her hand, and in it lies an ornate ring, decorated with an exquisite blood-red ruby. An inscription in High Valyrian is carved on the band.

Daemon snatches it swiftly, “Right. Good eye.”

“I recognized this to be one of your Targaryen heirlooms. You must have dropped it when you spent the night with me.” She steps closer to him, caressing his arm.

Your heart sinks. What did you expect – that Daemon would ever commit to you? He has been making gestures that are unusual for him, giving you just the slightest hint of hope. And now, this.

He was right. You do know exactly who he is. What he is. The lady Mysaria can be taken as confirmation of this.

“Would you excuse me?” you clear your throat, and start to walk over to Cregan.

Daemon notices the drop in your spirits - in the frown that formed on your lips, and the way your shoulders scrunched forward. He knows that you are aware of him looking at you imploringly. You refuse to meet his gaze, and continue to ignore him as he stares daggers at your retreating figure.

Daemon shrugs Mysaria’s hold off his arm, taking a step back. He is not certain what to say, and Mysaria senses his agitation.

“You desire the lady Y/n,” she states, not a shred of doubt in her enticing voice.

“You know nothing of it,” Daemon spits defensively.

“You do. You want her. I can see it in your eyes,” Mysaria repeats, “It’s a novel thing, as you once told me that she is someone whom you merely tolerate.”

And I fucking wish I knew better. “I’ll be damned if I’m not capable of changing my mind.”

“Or perhaps you always wanted her, and you just were not aware of it? You did speak plenty of her even before,” she muses, as she knows that Daemon will not deny her keen eye for observation.

Daemon and Mysaria look over to you, as you stand with the rest of your group. You smile, and stroke Hestia’s back soothingly. Cregan leans over to you, and you laugh at whatever he has whispered.

Daemon sulks, hands firmly clasped in front of him. “Fucking Stark.”

“She wants you too, you know,” Mysaria smiles.

This piques Daemon’s attention, though his face remains sour, “Don’t toy with me. Perhaps she did, but now - ”

“She still does. In time, you will both see the truth of it all. Good fortune, Prince Daemon.” she walks away, her long tresses blowing softly in the breeze, but pauses and turns halfway, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Daemon nods once, feeling hopeful anew.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

One brisk morning, you sit peacefully in the gardens, a new book in your hands. You sit comfortably, your legs tucked underneath you on the seat. Daemon once remarked of how he liked the careless way with which you sit, to which you rolled your eyes, “Don’t mock me, Daemon. My father has scolded me plenty about how I don’t sit like a proper lady.”

Daemon just snickered at that, and playfully pulled at your ankle. That was one of your more amicable exchanges. Even now, your mind trains back to him, as if his absence is a thing that demands to be felt. Even after you believe yourself to have grown resolute at giving up any romantic notion when it comes to Daemon, after the encounter with Mysaria a few days prior.

Hestia sits beside you, crocheting, her needle deftly held between her slender fingers.

“My lady,” she says, looking to the side at the hedges, “I think you have a shadow.”

You follow her gaze and see him. The prince currently occupying your thoughts. As he always has. Daemon leans against the bark of a tree, evidently watching you. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees you finally notice him.

Your shadow.

You throw him a questioning look from afar. He merely shrugs his shoulders and starts to confidently walk toward you. He reaches you, and you just stare at each other in relative silence.

“You,” you say, as he had always done upon seeing you.

“Excuse me, lady Y/n, Prince Daemon,” Hestia curtsies to the both of you, then proceeds to take her leave. She smiles slyly at you over her shoulder, and you know she will want to be filled in about what happens later on. You consider yourself fortunate that your lady-in-waiting grew to become one of your closest confidantes.

“My shadow,” he says smoothly, then sits beside you.

“I might go so far as to say that the tables have turned. You are my shadow now, Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm,” he sneers, “No Stark boy today?”

“He’s visiting his sister, but he shall return soon. He promised me.”

“I’d much prefer it if he were to never set foot in King’s Landing ever again,” he comments casually.

“Jealous are we, my shadow?” you look at him teasingly through your lashes, realizing in that split moment, how easy it is. Being around him feels natural, despite the flares in his disposition and his offhand remarks.

You also realize that it is not completely the same with Cregan, as sweet and perfect as he might be. There is a sense of trying to fulfil your duty as a lady from a noble house, when it comes to your courtship with the young wolf.

But you have always chosen Daemon. If only he would choose you in return.

“I could ask the same of you. I saw the way you were glaring at Mysaria,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows tauntingly.

“I was not glaring at her.”

“Oh no, apologies, not glaring,” he raises his hands in faux surrender, “Not glaring. Seething.”

“Can you honestly blame me?” your face turns gloomy as you look off into the distance.

Daemon feels the drop in your demeanour, and his heart sinks. Must I always be the root of her heartache? Have I not done enough?

As if on instinct, he reaches across, and squeezes your hand, “My shadow, you must know, I have not bed any other, have not even looked at any other, ever since…”

You look down at your joined hands, his hand wider and calloused around yours. You’ve always known, when you would hold his hand to give him comfort, that it was always for your sake as well. His touch calmed you, but it was as if you had to steal moments of it for yourself.

This feels different. His thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand. You watch his eyes roam your face, from your eyes to your lips and back.

You wait for him to say the words. To say anything that would validate your longing.

“Now, I’m going to attempt something, my shadow, and you mustn’t be angry with me. Alright?”

“Daemon.”

“Alright?”

“Okay.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer, close enough that you feel his warm breath on your skin. Even closer, as you feel his lips graze yours, ever so gently. His eyes continue to search yours, gauging your reaction.

Then he presses his lips to yours. The countless times you had imagined that way it would feel, certainly does not do it any justice. Not even a little bit.

You let out a sound of appreciation, a soft little moan against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation. He pulls away for a second, hums affectionately, and runs his thumb over your lips. You let out a laugh, feeling light-hearted. He smiles at you, at his little shadow, before motioning towards your lips with a tilt of his jaw.

You kiss him again, and he feels his heart beating faster than ever before. The rogue prince, quite possibly one of the most notorious philanderers in the Seven Kingdoms, feeling flustered over you. You blossom into him, revealing yourself like you never had, his beloved shadow being engulfed and warmed by his sunlight.

His mouth becomes insistent in brushing against yours, his tongue tracing your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, your nerves set completely alight. His tongue mingles with yours, and you savour the taste of peppermint and sweet wine.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, you find whatever little impulse you have to pull away.

Your breath comes out in pants, and you raise your fingertips to feel where his lips were once on yours.

He studies your face, wondering what thoughts fill your mind.

You stand abruptly and begin to pace in front of him.

“Shadow?” he stops you, keeping you still with his hands on your shoulders.

“W-why?” you question.

He is still half-dazed from your taste, your scent all around him, “Don’t you see? I want you.”

“You want me?” your tone rises in disbelief.

“Must I repeat myself?” he nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his manner sincere, “I’ve never been the sort of man to deny myself the desires of my heart. And my heart only wants you.”

Just give in. Kiss him again, throw reason away to the wind. Forget any doubt, any past grievances. He says he is yours now.

But you remember all those moments wherein you made yourself available to him. To be his friend, his source of comfort, his defender. Any way he wished to have you. You desired him. You wanted him. You loved him.

You love him. But for so long, he turned the other way. You had held your heart out for him to take, and he did not. He merely tolerated it.

“Daemon,” you shut your eyes, needing to clear your head, “what of Cregan?”

“What of him?” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

You become infuriated, “Seven hells, I am in the middle of a fucking courtship!”

“An empty formality.” Of course Daemon would believe so.

“We should not have kissed. It is not respectful to Cregan.”

His hand moves to grip your face, tilting your head, and you are caught up in the passion in his violet eyes, “Did you not enjoy it? Did you not like kissing me?”

“You know I bloody well did.”

“We can speak with your father and end this farce of a courtship. You need not continue - ”

You interrupt, “It wouldn’t be right. Cregan is a decent, and loving man. My father says so himself. He would make for a good husband.”

“And I wouldn’t?” his hands drop to his side, and he takes a step back.

“I don’t know. I have to learn how to trust you again. After everything.”

His eyes are tormented as he looks away.

“Daemon, I need time. I want to be completely certain if I will have to give up a life with Cregan.”

“Because he matters so much to you,” he sighs, appearing dejected.

“I’ve grown to value him for who he is. He’s my friend, and I had entered this courtship in hopes that it would help me forget about you. And I was thinking that perhaps, I could learn to love him… in time.”

“Don’t,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“I did not believe you cared for me, as I did you. It is only now that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “ever became anything. For you, at least. There was once a time wherein there was only you for me, but now, I just need some time.”

Daemon says nothing, letting your words sink in. His jaw clenches, deep in thought.

“Daemon,” you take his hand, “say something.”

He doesn’t. In a flash, he simply connects his lips to yours again, sucking the breath from your lungs. Your worries cease, as you give in to him. You reach upward to entangle your fingers in his silver hair; his hands hold your waist tightly.

In true Daemon fashion, his lusty resolve breaks, and he lets his hands slide downward to grip your backside. You moan, and bite his lip as a result.

He smirks, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours, “Okay, my shadow. I will wait.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The days are long and languid. Daemon thinks so. He does not have much to occupy his time apart from his duties as Commander of the City Watch. He used to gain just the barest enjoyment from it, from ensuring that the city’s vermin are put to justice. But everything feels gray, devoid of any appeal. Nothing made him incandescent. He merely watched, and waited. For you.

He remembers you as he sits in the courtyard. He remembers the way you cheered for him while he trained, the way you sneered at his opponents, cussed at them even. The intensity in your expression was almost too much at times; you were so invested in his insignificant, little displays of skill. You were always there for him.

He remembers you when he strolls into the gardens, where you first met. You had been reading in solitude that fateful afternoon, your brows furrowed over a passage that baffled you. Something about witches in the histories of Westeros, you told him afterward. He responded, “Why, do you fear you might be a witch yourself? You certainly possess the ferocity.” So crude, you thought, so intriguing. So this is Prince Daemon Targaryen.

“Careful now, my prince. I just might put a spell on you.” you smiled at him, the very first time. He thought you very comely, but then again, he thought the same of several dozen other ladies. You thought him inexplicable, his reputation preceding him. The Rogue Prince, the rebellious second son. The patron saint of delinquents and whores, Otto Hightower once told your father. But you thought him amazing. Different. Dangerous. That very night, he filled your dreams. Since then, Daemon Targaryen became your sun.

On one of these mindless strolls, he comes across you. He cannot help it, and so he trails you, like a shadow. Every step feels heavy, because you are not alone. Your arm is looped around the wolf boy’s, walking too close for Daemon’s liking.

When he sees you kissing Cregan Stark, he sees red. He feels ill, fueled with rage. He saw it unfolding, the Stark boy running his fingers over your cheekbone, and then slowly closing the distance between you two. You stand arrested by the moment, seemingly apprehensive, but you don’t move away. The way the Stark boy curls his fingers firmly on your waist, drawing you close, he wishes he had done that.

He wishes he had pulled you close when you wiped the sweat from his forehead on those days you watched him train. In those moments when he was overcome with emotion and you would hold his hand. He had walked away, or turned to someone completely insignificant, when he could have held you. When he could have kissed you, much better than the Stark boy kisses you now.

Every part of him wishes to end the Stark boy’s life. He wants to strike him down in front of you. He wants to get you back.

But seven hells, Viserys would cast him out for good. He has only just returned to his brother’s good graces, the incident with Maron Tyrell having just been resolved.

And you. You would never forgive him. You would never speak to him again. And he can’t have that. He can’t live with that. He won’t.

He needs you, he knows this now.

He loves you, he is certain.

You had become Daemon Targaryen’s sun. As he was once yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a storm raging over King’s Landing. Heavy rain is pelting against your windows, and thunder echoes across the skies, a blanket of shadow covering the kingdom’s capital.

You sit in front of your mirror, absentmindedly running a comb through your hair. The week has felt long and languid. You certainly think so. You’ve had much to occupy your time – Cregan, duties with your father, lessons with the Septa, poring over books in the great library.

And yet, everything feels gray, as if devoid of warmth, not unlike the state of the city at present.

Daemon has been flooding your thoughts, despite your reluctance. You have been trying to not let your mind flash back to the kiss, without much success. A knot in your belly formed the moment Cregan’s lips touched yours, because you realized that you wish it had been Daemon instead.

It is as if your heart is sound in its resolve, its verdict clear. It is now left to you to either embrace the truth that it speaks, or stifle it, for the sake of an obvious consolation.

Daemon. You close your eyes, in remembrance of how he tastes. What if he loses heart? What if he no longer waits?

A sound catches your ear, one you think to be a faint knock, but it is overshadowed by a crackle of thunder booming outside at the same time.

The knocking repeats, a consistent rapping on the heavy wooden door.

You cautiously walk over, confused as to who would be visiting your chambers at this late hour.

“Who’s there?” you call out.

“Shadow.” You freeze, you would recognize this voice anywhere.

With tentative hands, you push the door open, and you are at once met with the sight of Daemon. His hair is unkempt and he is clad in only a loose white poet shirt, and dark trousers.

Words fail you, and you drink in the sight of him, as if it was the first time.

He rasps, holding your gaze, “I’m done waiting.”

“Daemon.”

He lunges forward, flooding all of your senses, gripping your face tightly in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. It’s different this time. More heated, passionate, greedy. He kicks the door shut with his foot, and he leads you deeper into the room.

“Daemon, what - ” you break away, in an attempt to catch your breath.

His forefinger flits across your lips, silencing you, “Hush, my shadow. I need this. I need you.”

You hum in agreement, and throw all caution to the wind. This is your Daemon. It has always been clear, he is the one you will always want.

Your hands roam, feeling his neck, his collarbone, and his chest exposed by the flowing shirt.

He stands captivated by you, and the gentle way in which you touch him. Your eyes filled with adoration. This is exactly what he needs. The storm might be raging outside, but right now, in this glowing candle lit room, he has his sunshine.

You had gone from being his shadow, to his light.

“I love you,” his voice is a mere whisper, and yet it electrifies your entire being, “I love you, my light.”

You look at him in a daze, and your vision becomes cloudy as a tear threatens to fall, and it does, when he kisses you again. He lifts you up on the table, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You lean backward, pulling him with you, making his pelvis press onto yours.

He groans, his frustration heightening even more when your hands roam under his shirt, gliding across the chiselled plains of his stomach, down to the line of his trousers.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face in your neck, “I want to… do this right.”

He straightens, kissing you once, before declaring, “I shall wed you first, my dearest love. Then, I shall have you.” His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, as if to make a promise, “All of you.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you can feel all this yearning prompting a knot to unravel low in your belly, “I must admit this is not what I expected of you, my prince. You were never one to exercise such restraint.”

“Be that as it may, my light, this is different. You are not like the others. Granted, I am not one to shy away from the pleasures of the flesh.” His fingers caress your ankles, before slithering gradually up your legs. He savours the softness of your flesh, squeezing your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You will soon find, my light, that fucking is a pleasure, and I especially want to show you how satisfying it can be,” his hands slide higher, and higher, “in every way possible.”

“Daemon,” you bite your lip, encouraging him, “my love.”

“Yes, my light?” he taunts.

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse impatiently, guiding your pelvis so that his fingers finally graze your undergarments.

“Impatient are we?” he shifts the cloth to one side, tracing one digit over your folds, “You are exquisite.”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back, and brace yourself on the table, your hands struggling to keep yourself upright, “please, Daemon.”

Urged by your mewling, sensual music to his ears, he pushes one finger inside your warmth. He pumps it inside, outside, watching you all the while.

With his other hand, he undoes the delicate string on the front of your nightgown. The thin fabric haphazardly falls to your waist, revealing your torso to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing another finger inside you, picking up the pace. He then moves to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, before trailing downward, licking and pecking his way until he reaches your breast. His tongue swirls freely on your nipple, and your hand comes up to brace itself onto his hair.

“This is fucking torturous,” he nearly growls, once again kissing you. Daemon wants to lose himself in the sight of your unravelling, as you unabashedly fuck his fingers. He prays to the gods that he might learn to control his lust, his desire to just forego tradition and bury his cock deep inside your pussy threatening to take over him.

“Gods, Daemon, this is so much better than I imagined,” you pant, your lips turning up in a smirk.

“Is that so, my light? Have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

When you nod, he purrs in your ear, his lips grazing the skin, “Have you dreamed about fucking me? As I have you?”

His thumb circles rapidly around your clit, while his two soaked digits relentlessly plunge into your pussy. “Y-yes, Daemon.” His movement grows ever so careless and wild, fingers curling inside you, eager to bring you to climax. Your eyes flutter closed, as your pelvis begins to feel tense, that familiar spasm gathering below.

“Let go, my light,” he commands, “Release yourself onto me.”

Once more, you pull him by the neck, and taste him. When his tongue collides with yours, you let go, gushing down on his fingers. He feels your juices drip down to his palm, but he makes no move. He leans back, memorizing the sight of you. His shadow, his light, covered in a sheen of sweat, thin nightgown pooled by your waist. Your legs spread wide open for him, your cum still warm on his skin.

He cleans his hand, first sucking some of your orgasm off his fingers, and wiping the rest on the back of his shirt. He leans forward, palms on either side of your thighs on the table.

“Daemon?” you breathe, eyes half-lidded from the aftermath, “What is it?”

“I love you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon’s arm is wrapped around you, as your head rests on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat.

You found yourselves lying down on your bed, atop the silken sheets, after that delightful table incident, deciding to call it thus as you now fondly think back to it.

You had been sharing stories of mixed significance, ranging from what you had for breakfast to the culmination of the war in the Stepstones.

“I may have to go into battle,” he confesses, “sometime in the days to come.”

Worry floods you, knowing how reckless he can be when faced with the thrill of war. Violence is not something that deterred Daemon, let alone the pain of death. If anything, he seemed to welcome it, and it frightens you.

You do not want to ever lose him. It was true then, but now, your very being depends on it. With him gone, you are afraid that you would never be whole again.

“Must you go?” you whisper.

“You need not worry, my light,” he kisses the top of your head lovingly, “I will always return to you.”

“But must you go? Is it necessary that you be there?” you prop yourself up on one elbow, so that he may see the sincerity in your expression.

“No,” he decides, “the war is all but won. There are just some loose ends to tie up, and the Velaryon army is more than capable of putting an end to it all. I had just half a mind to proffer aid from myself and a portion of the King’s army.”

“So let the King’s army go, and you can stay here with me.”

“My love?” he grins, “are you truly demanding that of me?”

“Just this once?” you plead, smiling at him, “I don’t wish to forbid you from ever stepping into battle. I just… I’ve only just had you. I prefer not to take any foolish risk, as little as it might be.”

A smile forms on his lips, as he relishes in knowing that you truly must care for him.

“As you wish,” he relents, “I shall stay.”

You kiss him, certain that you will never tire of the feeling of his lips flush against yours.

You look down at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you, Daemon.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council try to hide their surprise at the presence of Prince Daemon, already sitting comfortably at his chair, as they enter the room and each shuffle to their place around the table.

“My lords,” Daemon casually greets, “I had thought you all had forgotten about the council meeting.”

“Prince Daemon, I assure you that we are exactly on time,” Lord Beesbury responds, failing to understand the jest.

Viserys is the last to walk in, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He pauses upon seeing his brother, but quickly carries on to his seat at the head of the table.

“Brother,” Daemon says, amused, “do try not to look so amazed.”

“Daemon,” Viserys merely nods in acknowledgment, before turning to the rest of the council, “let us begin.”

The minutes seem to pass by at a snail’s pace, at least for Daemon. He unknowingly gazes out the window now and again, as if in a daydream, eliciting several scolding glares from his brother.

Taxes, festivities, tapestries, resources. All these concerns fly over his head, especially since it was only the night before last when he finally claimed you. Or more aptly put, when he surrendered himself over to you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is to embark on a tour to several neighbouring cities, as part of her duties as princess of the realm, and as my heir,” Viserys announces, before addressing your father, “She kindly wishes to have your daughter, the Lady Y/n, as her companion for this particular excursion.”

Daemon’s interest is restored at the sound of your name, and he straightens, eager to hear the rest. Little does he know, Viserys notices this slight movement, peering at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, what an honour that is, your Grace,” your father beams, “she will surely only be glad to accept the princess’ request. I shall relay the news to her when she returns from Storm’s End, in around a day or two.”

“Y/n is in Storm’s End?” Daemon speaks for the first time since the council discussions began, and all heads turn to him. There is an intimacy with which the prince mentions your name, a genuine curiosity with which he inquires about you, that drew everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my prince,” your father responds carefully, “she wanted to treat with Lord Cregan Stark, who has been visiting his sister Sara, the consort of Lord Baratheon’s eldest son.”

“How goes the courtship, my lord?” Tyland asks purposefully, knowing that it might turn Daemon irate, as he is already sulking in his seat, looking as if the wrong word might set him off.

“I’m afraid she plans to put an end to it,” your father finally says, regret perceptible in his voice, “as she has divulged to me that she might never see Lord Stark as more than a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” Viserys expresses genuinely, although he continues to closely watch Daemon’s reactions. His amusement grows at his younger brother’s inability to hide his emotions when it comes to you. First, intrigue at the mere mention of your name, then disappointment upon hearing that you are to see Cregan Stark, and finally the most obvious sense of relief regarding the end of your courtship.

A laugh threatens to escape Viserys. Being the elder brother that he is, he craves the pleasure of playfully taunting Daemon over his increasingly apparent affection for you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear brother,” Daemon speaks, breaking Viserys out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viserys turns to him in anticipation.

“My wish is to wed the Lady Y/n, as promptly as can be expected.” The entire council falls into silence, and Viserys finally lets out the dry laugh he has been holding back.

“M-my prince?” your father looks as if his heart would cease, and he certainly feels so, his chest significantly tightening at the prince’s declaration. Due to elation, or horror, he is yet to determine.

“Seven hells,” Otto exclaims, turning to Viserys, “won’t this be improper? The Lady Y/n has just ended a courtship with another lord, immediately to be wed to the prince?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Viserys easily counters, placing his hand atop his brother’s, “Daemon, I would hope that the lady is aware of your desire to be wed to her, and that you are not simply about to spring this upon the poor girl?”

“Of course she is,” Daemon confirms, his voice steady, “we are in love, if you cunts must know.” He could not help his less than tasteful remark, growing defensive about you.

“Gods be good,” Lord Beesbury balks at the prince’s crudeness.

“Alright,” Viserys raises a hand to appease the council, “Daemon, brother, I would be glad to see this come to fruition. Your marriage to the Lady Y/n would be exceedingly advantageous after all, for both our Houses.” He addresses your father, “I would assume that you believe so as well, my lord?”

Your father’s thoughts race, and with your best interests in mind, he speaks only to Daemon, “Do you truly love her, my prince?”

There is not a shred of doubt in Daemon’s voice when he answers, “More than anything.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sit in your usual spot in the gardens, accompanied by Hestia. A book rests on your lap, but you pay it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

Having just returned from Storm’s End, you feel at peace. You already knew that Cregan would accept your choice, but you did not wish to cause him any pain. It may have just been his natural charm, or a sense of ease with which he can hide his displeasure, but when you finally confided in him about Daemon, he was only quick to offer you a smile and pull you into his arms.

“Quite frankly, my lady, it only seemed a matter of time before Prince Daemon would break and accept that he needs you,” he said sincerely, his smile unwavering, “and I can recognize love when I see it, and it certainly exists between the two of you.”

Love. You shut your eyes, thinking of him, and savour the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

“My lady,” Hestia whispers, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You see her looking toward a figure in the distance.

“I think you have a shadow.”

🖤🖤🖤

The longest fuckin chapter I've ever written, gods be good. It did get a bit rushed towards the end. There was meant to be this whole scenario about Daemon heading into battle after hearing that the reader went to Winterfell instead to treat with Cregan Stark. Then I read how long it actually takes to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell and the timing just didn't fit with the events.

The parallels between Daemon and the reader were my favourite parts to write. They really are just two sides of the same coin.

Also, I did not expect myself to be writin' spicy content for this chapter, but I guess it just happened?? Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

I apologize this took aaaages to be put out. The amount of times I altered some parts I'm telling you, y'all would have just wrenched my laptop from me and I would not have blamed you 😂

My inbox was indeed flooded with demands for this chapter and I can only thank you all so much for wanting to read on!!! 🤍

taglist: @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @mamamooqa @63angel @azucarmorennna @kate16sstuff @thoughtfulfreakalpaca @alexandra-001 @babywolff @gloryekaterina @writer-lee5 @lockleysgrl @alexa4040 @piceous21 @softtina @bregarc @ramennoodles212 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @captainweirdo42 @thx-rn @merovingianprincess @clarap23 @itisjustwhatitis @blushinyouth @aeisnoa @a-lil-bit-nuts @paprikaquinn @just-some-random-blogger @cantstoptherecs @baybieruth @wondergal2001 @pax-2735 @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss

#daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #matt smith #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut

3K notes · View notes

cleake · 2 years

Text

HP Characters Reacting To You Drawing Them

Warning: I didn't read the books, these are my headcanons and personal ideas for the characters. It's just for fun. :)

Harry:

-"Oh! Brilliant! Yeah, sure." -He is a bit shy, but flattered, very flattered -He sits in front of you, with a nervous smile, sometimes adjusting his glasses or hair -You assure him that he looks great and he relaxes a bit, sitting more comfortably -While you work he asks from time to time some questions about your drawing journey and listens closely to your answers -He thinks about how you're going to draw his scar, are you going to make it a key thing, or represent him in another way? -When you finish and show him your work he's astonished by your talent -"Wow! This is really good! I can keep it? Oh! Thanks!"

Ron:

-"You want to draw me? I don't think I'm that special." -He's a bit hesitant at first, he feels like he doesn't deserve attention, since he is not "The Chosen One" -But you make him believe otherwise -When sat down Ron is stiff, looking away from you, smiling nervously -You tell him that he looks great and he smiles a bit more confident -He suggests ideas on how you can present him, and he comes up with some sick propositions -Once you're finished he's so happy that he has something made by someone only for him -"Bloody hell, it's fantastic! You need to show your skill more often."

Hermione:

-"Draw me? Well if it makes you happy." -She pretends that it's nothing, she may look annoyed, but inside she cares -She fixes her hair or clothes when you aren't looking -She sits properly, legs together, hands on her lap, head slightly tilted, and a soft smile on her lips -She is mostly silent but asks you questions about what you are doing at a certain moment, she's curious -She's patient, giving you time to make your art perfect, she knows how hard it can be -She's very supportive when she sees your finished work -"This is lovely!"

Fred:

-"Oh yeah? So my beauty captured you this much?" -He's so happy about it but can help not to tease you -"Are you interested in a more intimate portrait?" -He sits in a confident way, taking a lot of space -He gives you ideas for the drawing, like how he could look good on a broom, or fighting You-Know-Who -After he's done with his jokes he lets you work in silence, just sometimes giggling to himself because of your focused expression -When you sometimes look up at him, he sends you a quick wink -He's very happy when you finish the drawing, he'll show it to his friends -"Thank you, dear, we can repeat this if you want."

George:

-"You got the right twin? Because I am not sharing this position." -He's more mature about this than his twin, but he has it in his nature to make some not-in-place comments -He gives you control, you decide how he sits or holds his hands -He's intrigued by how you work, but stays silent, just looking at you -He hums quietly, gently moving his head, when you tell him to stop moving he winks at you with a smirk, but completes your order -He's moved when he sees your done work, he feels appreciated for him -"Thank you, it's beautiful."

Ginny:

-"That's nice of you." -She doesn't ask a lot of questions, just lets you do your work -She's happy to pose for you, it makes her feel seen -She smiles when you accidentally make a silly face but doesn't point it out -When you're finished she takes a while to admire your work -"It's amazing, thank you."

Luna:

-"I would love to, sitting can be fun too." -She's very calm, listens to your instructions, and is very patient -She asks you how you got to draw, or what inspires you to create, she's nice to have conversations with -She has her glasses on her nose, sitting with her knees to her chest -When you're finished she's very happy -"Oh, it's magnificent. I am so happy to keep it."

Neville:

-"Me? Are you sure?" -He's very self-conscious, and thinks you're doing it out of pity, but you assure him it's not like that -He's very nervous, he doesn't know what to do with his hands, you have to guide him a little bit -He thinks he looks bad at every angle, but you tell him that everything is perfect and that makes him feel a bit more confident -He is so grateful for this art piece, he keeps it close to him at all times -"Wow, that is so pretty, thank you Y/N."

Draco:

-"Why? For what?" -He doesn't feel comfortable with this and is suspicious you have bad intentions -But his pride wins over him and he lets you draw him -He sits proudly with a serious look on his face -He says nothing, just watches you, expecting your work will be not as high as his expectations -But he's shocked when he sees your done work -He keeps it in his room, away from others -"Well that's not as bad as I thought it will be."

Tom:

-"I can agree to that." -He sees this as an opportunity to capture his image for future -He wears his best suit, rings on his fingers, and in his hand a dark book -He sits with his head high, one leg on the other, leaning on the armchair -He doesn't talk but nods his head in approval when you stop drawing for a moment -He's very satisfied with the result and keeps the drawing well hidden -"That is good, thank you for your time."

5K notes · View notes

leathfaic · 8 months

Text

Ghost is a man who never needed to do much to draw attention when he goes clubbing. His impressive frame ensures he gets plenty of attention. That natural air of authority honed over years as a commanding officer ensuring he has his space if he wants it, unwanted approaches stopped before they even begin.

Still lots of eyes stick to him casually leaning against the bar. Always had an easy pick of those brave enough to approach him. Even before the scars in his face he attracted a certain type, the twinks that wanted to be thrown around, bears wanting to play with someone in their own weight class they weren't sure they could out-wrestle and everyone in between who just likes tall, strong blondes. Ever since the scars that has only intensified, might be that he loses out on some vain types, but the daredevils flock to him even more now.

So really he can't complain. He's not the biggest fan of the places, avoids scrungy punky ones altogether for very personal reasons, but they serve their purpose. Finding a quick lay mostly. Sometimes just enjoying a space where he's not the only gay man for miles and miles.

When he starts to go clubs with Soap though, it becomes a very different experience.

First of all he's not looking to take anyone home or to a convenient dark corner.

No, he's here because Johnny likes dancing and what Johnny wants he usually gets. Simon could never deny him anything.

So there is no one Ghost is looking at but Soap. And bloody fucking hell it is worth looking.

Johnny's easy confidence bleeds off of him and mixed with his natural charm he commands the entire rooms attention. His body helps, sure, sculpted muscles barely hidden by a mesh shirt and jeans so tight there's nothing left to the imagination, but there's plenty of good looking men around.

None of them carry themselves like Soap does though.

He watches as Soap enters the dance floor, seeming to melt into the beat. Dancing as effortlessly as he cleans an entire building of hostiles. A fucking vision in strobing lights as he let's the rhythm dictate his movements. Wide fucking smile painted on his face.

People flock to him, wind themselves around him in more or less proficient dance moves, probably hoping to leave an impression over the gaggle of obvious suitors.

Soap toys with them, dancing with those he finds entertaining, neatly sidestepping those he doesn't. Bathing in the attention of wandering hands and lips.

Ghost wonders if they can feel how dangerous of a man he really is. If they can smell the slight hint of sulfur from the demolitions workshop he's been crammed in all day. If they can see the edge in his eyes, that predatory glint of a man trained to kill walking through a crowd of unaware civilians.

Most probably can't.

Some who can probably find it exciting.

In the end none of it matters anyways.

Because it is Ghost's gaze that Johnny seeks when another man winds around him, littering his neck with kisses. And it's on Ghost's wordless command that he abandons the crowd of hopefuls. Meandering over to him, well aware of all the looks following him as he sprawls himself in Simon's lap unabashedly.

It's a unique rush of power having the man they all want at his beck and call. To take a sip of whisky and shamelessly kiss it into his mouth. Making sure just a little spills over painting a golden line for him to lick up.

Keeping his eyes on the crowd and bathing in their envy, their hunger and their shock.

He indulges for a few minutes, let's Soap shower him in affection while keeping him and the room in check with his dominance over the situation.

It's a game they both know Ghost will lose down the line, will drag Soap out of the club like his life depends on it. Maybe throw him over his shoulder just to make a point.

But not yet. Now he makes sure Soap drinks some water and sends him off again with a well aimed slap to his arse.

And Johnny smiles bright and wide. Drifting into the crowd, the crowd that is apprehensive at first but before long they can't help themselves. There's some wary glances shot at Simon, but his ongoing indifference seems to embolden them. Crowding Soap like moths would a light.

And Ghost finds himself suddenly enjoying clubs a whole lot more. Revelling in Soap's obvious bliss and the knowledge that the man who drives the whole dance floor senseless will follow him in the blink of an eye.

Let them get their hopes up, he's got nothing to fear, to be jealous over because he knows the only thing that matters:

Soap commands the whole room without even trying, but Ghost is the only one who commands his attention.

#ghost has a fucking ego about this #and they both would be the kinds of arseholes toying with a crowd like that #only to go home and fuck about it #their power dynamics are deliciously screwed between ghosts worship & adherence to johnnys every wish and soaps devotion bordering on fealt #they are so very much in love #in all the healthy and unhealthy ways #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod hc #my stuff #ghoap

392 notes · View notes

leiflitter · 4 months

Note

hey i need ur felix and oliver and cattonquick headcanon s RIGHT NOW… ❤️

Well uh uh uh there's 200k+ words on ao3 which contains some of this but... under the cut because it's vaguely nsfw in places, keeping this as like... Oxford Ladz.

Felix is shit in bed unless you turn it into a challenge/game, and even then he's lazy as fuck so good luck. Most girls don't care because shagging Felix is like being chosen by a god. His routine is: snog for a bit, maybe shove his hand down your knickers, then it's the Catton Jackhammer asap until he rolls off you and falls asleep.

Going out with Felix is generally shit. He shags you maybe 4 times, then ghosts you and you find out he's moved on by seeing him fingering another girl outside of a club at 2am. He might buy you something, but the most expensive gift he'll get you is most likely some shots or a 3am kebab.

Oliver? Good in bed because he is An Observer and will see what works then Do That Until You Die. However, he only really sleeps with girls to help Felix out (he gets the friend, Felix gets the hot girl). He mostly thinks of Felix when he does this, but tells himself it's in a lie back and think of england way. He also tends to stick to hands/mouth stuff, because otherwise it's "why aren't you hard" and he panics.

Oliver is perpetually single, despite Felix's best efforts. Felix does not understand why girls have such bad taste. He insists Ollie is an absolute legend and anyone would be lucky to have him. He also gets oddly grumpy if any girls DO organically hit on Ollie, though.

Felix's short-lived "girlfriends" all think it's a little weird that Felix touches Oliver more than he touches them. Like he won't hold hands in public, but he's got his arm around Oliver all the time? Weird. If you're dancing with Felix and go to get a drink, most of the time he'll be dancing with Oliver once you're back and it is hard to get his attention back.

Felix gives me vague adhd vibes, maybe dyslexia, but he was born in the 80s and he's rich af, so it's never really mattered because he never has to try.

Big Oliver Autism vibes, the man is MASKING but again... circumstances mean he's just brute forcing things.

Felix has been made to play Team Sports but doesn't like them unless it's for silly reasons.

Oliver likes exercising, but mostly goes to the gym to be in a weird little physical activity enduced void.

Felix has honestly been bi as fuck forever, but never really considered why he was down to let lads in his dorm snog him back in boarding school because it was just kinda the done thing. Haha, just hormones, amiright?

Both of them feel vaguely destined to become their fathers and do not want to do that.

Felix had very weird feelings for Damon Albarn as a teen but again. Never thought about it too hard, he's just a pretty man, bloody hormones again!

Oliver cannot drive. He refuses to drive. He has his provisional licence for ID and that's IT.

Felix is often trying to annoy Oliver because any attention is good attention. Oliver just wants to revise, Felix, please stop drawing dicks on his notebook.

Felix absolutely is going full hair-twirly, eyelid-fluttery, dreamboy bimbo at Oliver constantly. Oliver does not pick up on this, but Farleigh does and is honestly a little disgusted.

Speaking of- Farleigh is primarily concerned that he pegged Oliver for an absolute capital-L Loser on day ONE and now his stupid cousin is basically throwing himself at Oliver. Farleigh has theories, including maybe hypnosis or Felix having some sort of brain injury from Team Sports.

Oliver was absolutely bullied in school, but not extremely, because he learned to make himself invisible. Head down, keep going, don't react.

Oliver didn't really GET music until Felix showed him stuff that wasn't just radio pop music. Unfortunately, this was after Oliver spent way too long trying to understand why Steps were so popular.

Oliver's initial haircut is based off of Zac Efron's in High School Musical. He has never seen HSM, but something about Zac Efron made him feel weird, and it just sort of... happened. He has a type, and it's Jawline and Eyebrows.

Felix's first thought upon getting close enough for Oliver to do the Big Blue Eyes Look Up At Him was "oh no," followed by just question marks and bike panic. And also, bi panic.

Farleigh complained to Felix a lot about Oliver but never used his name. It was just "the fucking nerd in my tutorial group".

Oliver honestly didn't connect Farleigh and Felix as cousins, because he was mostly too busy trying not to be painfully in love with Felix to join the dots from a throwaway comment in his first tutorial.

The money in Oliver's wallet at the pub was meant to last for the next two weeks. Boy gotta get lunch and buy bodywash and stuff, not shots for rich kids.

Felix immediately begins relying on Oliver to know his schedule. Oliver just accepts this and sends Felix reminder texts for his tutorials.

Felix keeps leaving hoodies in Oliver's dorm room. This is weird because they are rarely in there for longer than a minute or two. Oliver wears these hoodies because Felix keeps insisting that they'd suit him. Farleigh, yes, sees this and is fucking CONCERNED.

Felix assumes he'll have to get married and have kids as it is his duty to continue the Catton Line. He keeps making weird jokes about his and Oliver's kids getting married.

Oliver says he fancies Kiera Knightley. This is incorrect. Kiera Knightley is just the closest woman he could find to Felix.

Oliver lies to his parents mostly to avoid any visits or needing to go home because going back there is awful and stifling and guilt-inducing.

A few people in their group refer to Oliver as Felix's Pet, but only when neither of them are there. Farleigh started it.

Felix's initial emotional reaction to Ollie's Field Reveal was immense pride and the urge to punch Farleigh in the arm very hard if he didn't stop staring, the pervert. Felix was not staring, he was merely pointing his eyes in that direction, thanks.

Felix always has something in his mouth and it makes Oliver want to die. Most of Oliver's pens and pencils have Felix toothmarks on.

Felix does not understand how much things cost. Oliver does. Oliver wishes Felix would stop picking things up that "made me think of you, Ollie!" Because. Felix. That t-shirt was £50. What is WRONG WITH YOU.

Felix has occasionally considered seeing if Ollie'd be up for a devil's threeway if he found someone willing. He isn't brave enough to ask, because he knows Oliver would say no, but he thinks about the idea a lot. You know. Just a regular wild Uni party thing, right?

If Oliver hadn't gone to Felix, Felix would have turned up sloppy, SLOPPY drunk outside of Oliver's room one night and had a big baby tantrum and probably shoved his tongue down Oliver's throat. It would be the worst handjob of Oliver's life, but also the best.

#leiflitter answers #saltburn headcanons #felix catton/oliver quick #cattonquick #i stand firmly on ��felix sucks as a boyfriend” island come fight me

157 notes · View notes

fangirling-heart · 9 months

Text

So, the other day I rewatched FtF and one thing that has struck me as odd, even all the way back to when it first aired was Caleb's ghost.

Whether it was really there or a figment of Belos' imagination is up for debate, but what I specifically want to talk about is its design. It does look very ghost-like, in shades of white and gray, looking all skinny with the large eye bags, the bloody knife above his head and even the mark on his shirt from the stab wound. Everything about it referencing the day Caleb died except for one thing:

His hair was short, just like in every other memory of him being in the Demon Realm. But his ghost has long hair in a ponytail. The same hair he had back in the Human Realm.

And if there's one thing this show has taught me, mostly through characters like Amity and Lilith, it's that one thing that bears significance in a character's design is the hair. So in this case, what could it mean? Why everything but Caleb's hair are a perfect reference to his death?

The answer to that lies in the first episode in which we learn the most about him: Hollow Mind. The episode where we see the portraits of Belos' memories and get the general idea of the brothers' story. Now like I said, in those memories there are 2 distinct parts of the story, just like there are 2 different hairstyles of Caleb: Long hair in the Human Realm, short in the Demon Realm. But there's one more distinction, which I'm certainly not the first person to point out: In the Human Realm memories, the memories Caleb has a ponytail, his eyes are scratched out.

Because that's the Caleb Philip wants to forget. Not the one he found in the Demon Realm with a witch, the one he killed. But the Caleb that did chores with him, that played with him, that made him feel special. And it's this Caleb that came back to haunt him. The ghost's presence doesn't simply say "You killed me." It says "I loved you and you killed me."

Philip desperately tried to draw lines and limits and differences between the two versions of Caleb to keep his guilt away and rationalize the murder of his brother, only for this ghost to show up and tear them apart. Because despite falling in love with Evelyn and changing his ways, Caleb never stopped loving his brother.

#Got a semi-part 2 of this in the works #Fangirling notes #wittebane brothers #emperor belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #getting sucked into the wittebane side of the fandom #the owl house

192 notes · View notes

grvyrd-drms · 8 months

Text

creepypasta piercing hcs!!!???!!!

-----------------------------------------

A/N: inspo from me finally stretched my ears to 0g!!! i also didn't include brian or tim, because their irl actors didn't have any. :)

characters: toby, jeff, ben, e. jack, nina, sally, jane, liu, jane, clockwork/natalie, zero, kate, jason, helen/bloody painter, puppeteer, jason, judge angels, cody/x-virus, sally

cw: mentions of piercing infections, manic episodes, and pps LOL

-----------------------------------------

toby: my boy is DECKED OUT in shit!! double eyebrows and nostrils, bridge, smiley, septum, snakebites, cheeks, practically every ear piercing. had a belly button at one point (someone please draw this) but was too insecure to show it off so he took it out. on top of this sluttiness he also has dreams of getting a pp one 🤭 but only when he's manic. prefers to do his own, mostly does them during his ✨episodes✨. the one good thing about his CIPA is he can just get whatever he wants. has to be reminded to clean them.

jeff: his skin is super sensitive and he absolutely does not take care of anything so he's had to take a ton out, but he's managed to keep a few. he def has 00g gauges and a septum, left eyebrow, a few helixes, tried a lip ring and tongue but they got nasty infections. the infirmary hates him.

ben: since he's in link's body, he already has basic lobes. i like the idea that he can kind of change his appearance (being a ghost and all) so he added some more hoops along his elf ass ears. keeps trying to dare jeff into getting his nipples and belly button done (it's not working).

e. jack: has his basic lobes. was too much of a mama's boy to get any facial piercings and was too much of a wuss to get more ear piercings. and honestly??? he's been deterred away from getting more because of jeff.

nina: OMG snakebites, medusa, tongue, septum, nostril, triple lobes and helix on either side, nipples. belly button with cute ass Y2K dangly jewelry. owns half of the claire's store earring collection.

sally: has her basic lobes with the cutest little gold bow earrings <3

jane: kept her basic lobes and her seconds, both are little hoops. silver girly for life!!! doesn't really like any other body mods or such.

liu: do his staples count has one basic lobe on his right. lil hoop in it :3 wanted to be 'rebellious' 👹.

natalie: eyebrow (on the opposite side of the clock), triple lobe, industrial on left side and double helix on the right. belly button. has a nose ring on her right, with a skinny gold hoop in it. doesn't care for metals at all, they're all mixed (monster) she learned from her clock eye to keep her body clean, so she regularly cleans them. go girl!!'

zero: stretched her ears to 16mm, tongue and septum. doesn't go crazy but she's dedicated to her gauges.

puppeteer: he's sexy so has to have stretched ears. they're only at 00g cause he likes them noticeable but not too big.

bloody painter: literally nothing except an eyebrow on his left. toby thinks its odd. secretly afraid of needles so he sticks to what he has.

judge angels: basic lobes, both tragus and a helix on her left and she's happy with it. she likes that it adds a bit of sparkle to her look but its not excessive unlike some people.

jason: he's a SLUT!!!!!!!!! has dick piercings. im not gonna look them up cause i don't feel like seeing pps but he... he has a few. has his basic lobes, nipples and belly button as well.

kate: i feel like she doesn't really care about her appearance, so she used to have basic lobes but they closed cause she never put them in. is intrigued by the idea of having a ton but she knows she could never commit herself to the upkeep. admires toby's from a distance.

cody/x-virus: got influenced (peer pressured) into getting a few due to toby. HAS to make sure everything is properly sterilized beforehand and will usually do them himself to make sure. double lobes, a tongue, both eyebrows, both helixes and a snug on his right. cleans them all twice a day.

148 notes · View notes

factual-fantasy · 4 months

Text

25 asks :}} MERRY CHISTMAS! 🎄🎄🎄

Jevil and Seams world still exists, its just so horrible that they don't ever want to go back to it..

Grillby and River persons AU were both destroyed/de-stabilized..?? Their worlds don't exist anymore.. they cant go back.

Goner Kid's AU still exists, but another version of her already exists in it. Its like a duplicate..? Of her was created when she fell into the void. When she tried to re-enter her AU, it was hurting the other Goner Kid. In order for her to go back, someone would have to kill that other Goner kid. But that Kid has a family, real memories, emotions.. she's a person too... no one had the heart to kill her. She cant go back..

Spamton's AU still exists, but he doesn't want to go back. There was nothing for him there. He had no friends, no family, he hated his life. And being in his own world for some reason causes his pain to be more extreme/less tolerable. So staying away from his AU brings him some relief..

Asgore's AU still exists, but he cant go back. Or else he will continue turning into dust and eventually fully die.. staying out of his AU is the only thing keeping him "alive"..

@abaroo

I don't know if their boss status really played much of a role.. mostly their friendship started with Jevil helping Spamton, and then sparked into something more by them having a similar sense of humor. :00

As for the phone person? I haven't decided if my Spamton had that phone guy or not.. but if he did, I might make it so they're different people. Or maybe the same person but from different aus..?? 👀👀

The group might not keep in touch consistently. But I can see them occasionally returning to this AU to seek shelter, knowing that they're safe here.

Like imagine they got in a wicked fight and some of their toughest members are all beat up. They retreat to this AU and hide out in the forest to rest. Some of the Queens guards find the group and bring them to her. She's surprised to hear that they've been living in the woods.

"Why did you not return to my castle?"

"We didn't want to intrude or overstay our welcome..."

"Nonsense! You are always welcome here."

Now as for Seams relationship with her? I imagine its complicated.. Of course he thinks she is wonderful and very gracious. Having freed him from his chains and continuing to welcome them into her castle..

But Seam can't help but be afraid of her. She is the same species as the Spade King. He cant help but be reminded of the king when he looks at her and feel uncomfortable or intimidated..

Seam is probably stressed and uncomfortable being in her castle, despite how kind the Queen is.. Everything just reminds him of the King and all the horrible things associated with him.. its just.. man, its complicated.

@tanileaf

WAAHAHRHHDHF THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING!! 😭😭💖💖💖

@mishishiwritings

Aw its ok! <XD Don't worry, it really is mostly a design choice now. But to go over the story again..

When I was designing my sona I wanted something to be on my hands. Gloves? Different skin color? I didn't really know.. Now at the time my fingers/knuckles were covered in band-aids due to dry skin and cat scratches.

So I thought hey! I can give my sona edgy bloody bandages! And I can call them my weathered artists hands! XD And so I added them.

Although my hands still aren't in the best shape today, I'm pretty hard on them- the bloodied hands don't have any darker or concerning origin. Just cat scratches and dry skin. I appreciate the concern though! 🥺💖💖💖

Also thank you! Happy holiday and a happy new year to you too! :}}

@taizarack

Yeah, my sona is kind'a all over the place <XD for funsies I made this little chart that might help explain the strange forms I take XDD

Basically, the drippy-ness and blood is when I want to emphasize my exhaustion and/or emotions is some way..?

And the "stable" version is usually seen at the start of comics before I've consumed any energy. Or in posts with 1-2 drawings that don't take much time/energy to make. Also being a drama queen is fun. Does that make sense..? <:D

@purplelordscp035j

THNAK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD

I'm assuming you're talking about the ruin mask? If so, that would be very bizarre.. they wouldn't know what to make of it. How is this thing even possible?? <XDD

@lizard-queen-things

Wow, 2020? That feels like forever ago-

And well I just kind'a lost interest in tfp. <XD I never even finished the show due to lost interest- such is life :/

@citrusfruitman

XD You're the first person to ever send me that I believe. Season's Greason's indeed :}

Nooo, <:/ I had already planned out my AU before the Ruin DLC came out. No room/reason to add prototype Freddy.

@starrypaint09

Fank u! :}}}

Here's a link to my FNAF master post! (Its also in my pinned post <XD)

I got an ask about this recently, :0 I'm sad to say that I'm actually unfamiliar with this game.. sorry! <XD

Part of me thinks it would be very foreign to their (probably cruddy) Fazbear brand pizza. <XD Chica would love it though!

This is a really good question! :0 I had to think about it for a sec XDD

For Freddy and Glamrock Foxy I imagined their vice would be the same, hoarding. They would try to latch onto things and objects that make them feel better. At first it would start with collecting certain posters of event that they had a good time at. Or if someone gave them a plush they would hide it from employees so that they could keep it. But then it would quickly spiral into something worse..

They would both start stealing from the other animatronics. Taking things that they see as valuable and worry the others might throw away. Or if they had a nice time at a kids birthday party they would try to collect souvenirs. Like the present wrapping and bows. Trash and plates with food still on them.

Freddy would collect all this trash and stuff and hoard it in his room. The food would get moldy and make his room a hazard. But Freddy would become very protective of his room and his collection. The employees would try to clean if but Freddy just wouldn't have it. They would have to clean out the worst of it little by little so Freddy wouldn't notice..

Foxy would be the same except once his room got too full, he would extend his collection to Pirates cove. Parents would complain about Pirates cove being dirty and about there being trash all over the floor. But just like Freddy, Foxy would be very protective of his collection and it would be a hassle to clean..

For Glamrock Bonnie however, his is harder to describe.. but I imagine he is completely opposed to change. Maybe OCD you could call it..?

I can see Bonnie being hurt by all the change in his life. When Freddy and Chica died that was a huge change. When the glamrock era began and they threw out everything familiar to him.. it hurt. It was a big change.

I can see Bonnie hating change. For 5 seconds, he wants everything to just, stay the same. This might manifest in Bonnie not allowing any employees in his room. Becuase he doesn't want them moving anything around. He wants to come back to his room after a stressful day and have his room be exactly the way he left it. This would mean Bonnie's room gets very dirty/dusty but he wont allow anyone to clean it.

Not sure how this could spiral to something that effects other people.. Maybe he doesn't like the new songs that they are told to sing. He just wants to sing the same familiar songs he already knows. This could cause problems for the other animatronics because Bonnie wont cooperate? Things like that. :0

I suppose anyone who doesn't have a river person in their AU would be spooked yeah <XD Poor river person :(

XDD Yeah "Mommy look! A Kangaroo!"

Bonnie:

Yes, Seam is absolutely devastated with guilt. Not a day goes by where he doesn't feel horrible for what he did to Jevil.. And despite your point, Jevil holds nothing against him. Not anymore, and here's why.

Jevil was there when the king threatened Seam. When the king commanded him to lock Jevil away. It was very clear from the situation that the King would hurt or even kill Seam if he did not obey. Seam was torn, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking.. He had no choice. It was lock Jevil up, or face the Kings wrath. He had to.. if he didn't, both of them would probably have been slaughtered..

He doesn't resent Seam for locking him up. He knows he had to. But after years of being down there.. Jevil did develop a bit of resentment over Seam never visiting him. He always expected Seam to sneak down to the dungeon to see him.. but he never did.. that he resented a bit.

But as soon as he escaped, and found out why Seam never visited.. that resentment all vanished.

Seam tried to visit Jevil. But he was caught. And what was his punishment? His eye was gouged out, his mouth stitched shut, and heavy shackles clasped around his neck and wrists. He was told of he ever tried to visit Jevil again. The king would kill them both.

How could Jevil hold any resentment after that? There was nothing else Seam could have done..

I think it was the opposite. Jevil saw the danger of the situation. It was clear that if Seam didn't lock Jevil up, the King would likely kill them both.

Seam was extremely hesitant. He was crying, he didn't want to lock him up..

Instead of begging the king for mercy, knowing the king would not listen. Jevil probably just tried to comfort Seam..

"Seam.. i-its ok... j-just.. just do it... just do what he says.."

I don't think I ever gave them claws.. I suppose if the situation calls for it they'll magically have them XD Not sure about scratching post though, they'd more likely just want to use a nail file :0

I sat on this ask and thought about it for a while.. and every time I think about it I picture the same scenario..

Asgore comforting a neutral route Undyne..

@beryl-shade

I'd like to think that Bibi can because he's very cat-like. but Cici? Mayyybe not? <XD She's more mouse-like to me.

@britneyt

WOAH HANG ON!- I cant make THAT many arms! XDD

Also thank you! Good night/day to you as well! :}}}

Oh yeah, it likely happens a lot. :( And you know Jevil is either gonna deny it, or curl up under a blanket and refuse to let anyone touch him in an attempt to not spread it..

#my response #undertale #deltarune #seam and jevil #seam deltarune #jevil #tw descriptions of gore #fnaf security breach #factual fam

85 notes · View notes

madameducyberversailles · 11 months

Text

Doing Mehndi/Henna with the 141+Los Vaqueros

In honour of the past Eid (why do I have so many undone Eid fics on my main) I will be making a set of headcannons for Eid even though it was a month ago because I want to and time is an illusion. Also, reader is South Asian-coded, and I’ll use gender-neutral pronouns but it’s kind of fem leaning due to the cultural aspect but all are welcome!!

(Also if I didn’t spell anything right please let me know I’m just writing this in a hurry I am so sorry)

Warnings: mentions of violence and war, foreign language use.

Doing Mehndi/Henna for the 141 + Los Vaqueros

There was some downtime in the base after a successful mission just a few days ago, meaning that everyone was trying to relax after the harrowing mission that took so much time and effort and caused so much pain to everyone. Finally, it was time for some rest and relaxation, and the base’s atmosphere was a little more calm than the frantic hustle just days ago. Funny how it all changes so fast, but it is what it is, and probably for the better.

You sat at a table with a small conical tube, piping a brown paste out onto your skin, using the tube as a calligrapher uses a pen, or an artist uses a paintbrush, to draw floral and fractal designs upon your skin. The reason you were being so artistic today? The downtime was just perfect, right at the end of Ramadan, meaning that it was time to celebrate not only the mission but also the completion of a religious month of fasting. The paste would dry and leave a natural, temporary tattoo on your hands, and as you painstaking created the masterpiece, people would stop by and see what you were doing.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He sees you putting some kind of paste on your arm and is...confused.

‘Bloody hell is that’ the first thing into his mind and out of his mouth, actually. Mans is big confuzzled

You tell him its Mehndi or Henna, and he...doesn’t know. Wasn’t really exposed to different cultures as a kid, and difference was not seen as something to be celebrated.

Is very curious. He appreciates the time and art, as he has tattoos that took time to make. He’s interested in what’s going on cause it’s you and he cares about what you do and how you are, shhhh

He has no idea how it works. The Hell you mean, it’s a tattoo? Doesn’t believe you. What do you mean this paste will leave a temporary tattoo? Is curious.

Will use this as an opportunity to sit with you and learn about you

If you explain it to him, he’ll not say anything and at first you think it’s because he’s disinterested, but he is actually quite focused on what you tell him and is absorbing the information. He is learning the history behind the art and like his tattoos, he has an appreciation for wearable art.

He likes watching you sketch out the designs on your skin. It’s nice to see flowers and leaves and birds and pretty things after all the blood in the military.

He will ask questions about what kind of designs, the longevity of the art, and if they’re restricted to a certain aesthetic. Will ask only a few questions, but its because he mostly likes just watching you do your thing. It’s satisfying to see it.

If you ask to do some on his arm, there is a 50/50 chance he’ll let you, because on the one hand its time consuming to do on him and wait for it to dry and he’s a busy man most of the time, but on the other its wearable art and looks relaxing. Whether or not he does let you depends on how close you guys are.

But if you hand him the mehndi tube and allow him to draw something on you...your friendship points in his mental scoreboard just skyrocket. You’re letting him make something for you to wear on your arm? Like a tattoo? You’ll wear a design a la Riley? He is willing to do anything for you now.

He’s not the best at drawing but he does have good control over his hand-eye coordination, so his designs are not that bad. He just needs time to decide what the hell to draw on you...give him ideas please. He will need your help with the tube as this man has sausages for fingers, and he’s trying, please be patient. Keep a few Q tips and tissues handy for wiping off the few mistakes he may make.

He likes more of the floral designs, especially the intricate floral fractals. Flowers are pretty, and he knows how unique designs ought to be appreciated.

He’s a bit of a perfectionist so be prepared for a numb arm afterward. But it’ll be work it when you see the joy in his eyes when he finishes it to his liking.

Will wait for it to dry with you if he’s not busy. He needs down time too, and spending time learning about something else is nice you’re also just really nice company and he feels bad that your religious holiday is being spent all alone

Will genuinely thank you if you do a design on him or let him do a design on you. It makes something in his heart warm up at the thought of knowing that he made something for someone else and its not only artistic, but you’re wearing it with pride. If you actually show it off he’ll huff about it but its a farce cause his posture improves and his chest is puffed out at the fact you’re showing it off.

If you were close enough that you did a design on him and it starts to wear away he will march up to you whatever time he can and demanding you retrace it. Or give him a new one. It’s like a friendship bracelet, GIVE!

All in all, he likes it. Anytime you do Mehndi from then on, he’ll be there, either chilling with you or getting some on himself too.

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

He spots you sitting down and squirting something on your skin.

‘What is that?’ Genuinely intrigued and curious. Likes the designs!

You did those yourself? That’s so cool! The patience and artistic ability is quite interesting to him.

If you tell him the history behind Mehndi/Henna, he’ll ask questions and engage in conversations about it. He has an appreciation for the historical aspect, and he’ll likely ask multiple questions.

He’ll watch you do it but he’ll also get fidgety after a while. You have to wait for it to dry too. But he’s not leaving! He’ll just need to move around a bit.

If you ask him to get anything for you for nourishment he will. He’ll feed you himself but also tease you while you’re at it.

Will blow on it to help it dry. When you tell him its cold he’ll just keep doing it because he’s a gremlin.

Finds it satisfying to watch. Will make suggestions on what to do next. If you incorporate it, he’d be over the moon! Just know that he’ll suggest some joke stuff and will veer from the intended aesthetic, so it’s up to you at that point.

There are some trends in mehndi where people who get their mehndi done will hide little cameos or names of people in their designs. Soap will suggest his name cheekily, believe me, but if you actually do it, he’d be forever thankful and in awe that you’d allowed him that honour. To him its like getting his name tattooed on you so its a high degree of respect given.

If you offer to do some on him he’d be glad to! He’ll eagerly give you his arm and ask you to either go ham or will have a design in mind. If you have his name in your design somewhere he will ask for yours too, it’s only fair! Bestie’s honour!

If you let him do a design on your skin, he’d be floored. He’d be so eager and happy! He grabs the tube and is ready! You’ll just have to limit him cause his imagination is going wild so please just tell him what to do before you sign some Ursula-esque contract and end up with some stupid-ass emoji or slogan like ‘Soap waz here’ on your skin for the next few days.

Surprisingly, he’s very good with handling the mehndi tube. He was named Soap for a reason, and he’s very good at putting the right amount of pressure for the right design. Not the best artistically but he takes his time and is genuinely careful with the fun. He treats it like a tattoo, it’s something he’ll spend time on.

That said, he is also an eager beaver and in his excitement he may, at any point, accidentally mess up some wet mehndi. When he does so, he will absolutely be a mess about it and apologize profusely for it. Help him please, keep some tissues nearby, please forgive him too he promises he didn’t mean it!!

If you allow it on a visible part of you he’ll be so happy to see it. If you actively show it off and tell the others he did it he’ll enthusiastically tell them how he did it because he’s just so happy he did that! Will have his arm around you too, you’re precious now for letting him do that. Will take offense when the others may not believe that he was the one who made that part of your mehndi.

When he’s done he’ll chat and eat with you, and make sure you’re okay. If your design is on the inside of your hand he will make a point to feed you himself. It makes him happy to do so.

He really likes the fractal designs, the ones that look like multiple layers of leaves or scales, lattice patterns are nice for him to look at.

If the design you give him starts to fade, he will ask for another one. Will show off every one you do for him.

Cptn. John Price

Price is not a complete stranger to the art, but it is one that he’s never really seen up close. He is aware from his life that there are other civilians he’s seen in the city have it done, he has travelled before as well and seen it too, so not entirely unfamiliar but very clueless. Seeing you do it awakens a curiosity, and he wants to know how its done.

He is a history nut, not that many people will know, so please tell him everything. Let him know the history of what you’re doing, its purpose, and how it relates to the holiday, etc.

Price enjoys thinking about other perspectives, so if you ramble on he’ll listen. It’s nice to hear some chatter about creative things rather than fearmongers, warlords, cartels and such. He’s happy to listen.

Will watch with attention as you do it, and when you talk to him he will engage in conversation as he absorbs the information. Has some questions and they’re all fairly relevant, Will periodically hum in thought or shift or gesture, showing you that he is in fact listening, and sometimes in the middle will interrupt to talk to you about something you said. The best part is when he interrupts you after you tell him the art of mehndi is thousands of years old...now he’s making mental notes and wanting to know more.

Will absolutely talk with you for the entire time you’re waiting for it to dry. Has the patience of a saint. The only time he’ll leave is if its an emergency, or if there’s a lot of paperwork he’ll just grab it from his office to do near you while you wait. Will let you talk about whatever you want. But if you let him talk you both are going to be there a while, John’s a very charismatic person and easy to talk to, so you could find yourself sitting for 3 hours just talking to him when your mehndi dries in half that time. But it’s time well spent, he absolutely appreciates it.

If you need him to get you any food, he is already on it, and regardless of which side of your hand the design is, he is a gentleman and will feed it to you. The best.

Likes to watch you do the designs, it’s satisfying to watch. He really likes quiet, creative times.

If he accidentally messes up your design by shifting and wiping it off he will not stop thinking about it for the next week. Forgive him please he didn’t mean it! He feels really bad and will offer help to fix it or clean it up. The more intricate it is the worse he feels.

If you want to do some on him, he might let you do it, just a small one in a hidden place. It has more meaning for him that way, and he also doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to have such things peak out, so he just wants to keep it on the low. Also it feels like a piece of you, someone he cares for, so its very personal to Price and he’s keeping it discreet like a well-loved secret. He’s so proud of it though. Others might notice, cause he will try to show it off in subtle ways. He always feels a smile on his lips when he notices that you notice the design.

When Price asks for the design he’ll also deviate from the aesthetic, maybe make it something else a little more to his interests, as the cultural rules of the aesthetic are not one he completely understands, as he thinks of it like a tattoo as well if just a little more flowery. If you do something floral or whatever he’d still appreciate it, but if you indulge in it by like, making it a collage of compiled mehndi aesthetic to make a shape similar to what he wants, he’d beam about it for months, long after that design fades. He will take numerous pictures of it but they’re all blurry cause he uses a phone like a grandpa and only a few of them turn out slightly legible.

If you let him do one on you? Price’s entire body is filled with warmth. You’re letting him design something on your body? Something that has cultural relevance to you, and in a design he wants? He feels honoured. He will have the highest reverence for that moment, it feels like you’ve given him a tremendous amount of trust. Price will actually try to back away a few times as he feels he might not have the cultural relevancy to administer it, but if you insist, he’d be so ecstatic. He is going to do his absolute best, Captain’s honour!

That being said, his drawing skills aren’t the best, so he’d try to talk about it a little bit. You’ll need to teach him how to grip and use the cone because otherwise its either too much or too little pressure, no in between.

Sausage fingers again, so please keep some tissues on hand. It will take time, but he is meticulous, he wants to make you proud and do you justice.

It comes out a little more austere than the usual flowery lines of traditional mehndi, but anyone can see it is made with love. Price is proud of it at the end, but will seek your approval before he dreams of celebrating that accomplishment. When you give your approval, he is glowing and thinking about any compliment you may have given him as he waits for sleep that night.

Once the mehndi vanishes, he’s sad to see it go, but is eager for another one should you ever do it again. So every Eid or any type of holiday you may celebrate, he will pop in to check on you and if he sees you doing mehndi, he’ll sit down and ask if you can do some on him too. You didn’t hear this from me but he discovered Pinterest mehndi/henna designs and has a...hundred saved.

He really likes the mehndi and has a reverence for it now, and makes a point to sit with you and give even one greeting any time there is a cultural or religious holiday to celebrate it in some way with you.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

When he sees it he will automatically pull up a seat and sit next to you, eyes wide, staring at it. You’d think he was a scientist looking at a newly discovered microbe.

The first thing out of his mouth is: ‘Bloody hell that’s gorgeous’. Is very intrigued. Eyeballing your design.

Could sit and watch for hours. It feels therapeutic to him to just watch mindlessly as a cone leaves an artistic trail on your skin. Is absolutely hypnotized.

Will be so glad if you tell him what you’re doing. Seriously, creativity is something he cannot appreciate enough. Probably the most viscerally appreciative of this art out of everyone.

Will literally sit next to you watching for hours or talking non-stop with how happy he is to see this going on. There is no in between, don’t ask. Gaz deserves to speak.

Please, please for the love of humanity tell him the history of it. Nerd wants to know. It. All. He will soak up the information like a sponge and will relentlessly look up designs and look at the history of it. He can’t believe this form of tattooing is that old! He can’t wait to gush about it with you, seriously.

He would try to guess what your design is. He would watch the lines and try to predict what you’re going to draw next. It becomes a game between you both, and to humor him, sometimes, you would draw what he guessed. Hey, he gives good ideas.

He will actually look up designs and marvel at them and give you ideas if you want. He’s very considerate of the art and wants to see how you do it. If you do the signs he suggests, he’d be over the moon!

If you do some on him, he’d be out of orbit. He’s so pumped when you do something with mehndi on his skin, and he’ll show off the colours and designs to anyone he sees. Will gush for days and will whine when the design starts to fade.

He really likes fictional characters so he will ask for symbols, logos, etc, but he will also try to incorporate the traditional mehndi designs as to him the traditions need to be respect regardless of his out-of-pocket requests for some mehndi designs. He will ask for memes I am so sorry.

If you let him do any mehndi designs on you...WHOOO BOI, his soul is A S C E N D E D. Out of this galaxy. He’s so thankful, he honestly is so honoured he is ready to give his life for you.

He will ask what you’d like from him, and will do his absolute best, Soldier’s honour, he will use his steadiest hand. He’s very good with his hand-to-eye coordination, and he is very good at drawing from a reference and replicating it he’s not the best without one tbh

Will take his time and it will take a while. Perhaps a few hours, depending on how complicated or exact you want the design. He’ll try to challenge himself and also honour your hands with an intricate design so unless you have time, are able to go without food for a bit (or plan ahead and have it with you) and are okay with almost complete silence as Gaz works, choose something simpler. Please, he really wants to do good by you. When he’s done you will be floored I promise.

Once the design fades he will ask when is the next time you do mehndi, and will respect your decision if you choose to do it only on holidays, but if you just whip out the tube and offer to do one, he’ll beam like the sun for the rest of the day. Nothing will happen to that smile no matter what.

Has a high respect for the creative craft and can’t wait to see you the next time you do it, and is so heavily invested you’ll think he invented it. A wonderful buddy for the arts and cherishes the time and knowledge you gave him.

Col. Alejandro Vargas

He literally stops to look the first time he sees it. ‘What are you doing, cariño?’

He lives in Las Almas, and there is Middle-Eastern history in Latin America including Mexico, so it is probable that he has seen women have these designs on them before, or knows of their existence and use. But the intricate designs are very much a subject of interest, and to see you do it makes him ponder if there is a special reason you’d do it.

When you tell him why, he’s surprised as to why he didn’t connect the dots but he’ll sit down and watch, with your permission. He’ll talk to you as you do it, wanting to spend time with a friend and a religious holiday is the perfect excuse, no?

He’s not truly interested in history unless its the history of those who he knows or wants to know about, both friends and foes alike, but if you tell him he’ll gladly listen! He wants to get to know each and every one of his friends better and what better way than to listen to them.

He will be a bit shook when you tell him that it’s thousands of years old. Like on the one hand it makes sense but on the other, they knew how to do this thousands of years ago? When you tell him the history he will interrupt a few times and converse with you, you’ll have to actually tell him if you need a moment to talk, but he is always respectful and engaged when you talk to him, a proper gentleman.

While some from 141 may try to guess what you’ll do next, Alejandro will actually ask you what you’re drawing next, wondering if there is a process to the way you’re thinking of doing your designs. He will try to guess like Gaz, but mostly he will try to understand your own artistic visions and where they stem from. Psychology of Mehndi taught by Col. Alejandro Vargas, anyone?

If you ask him to bring you some food or water he is speedwalking and grabbing you as much nourishment as possible. If you’re doing something he can see is intricate he will make a whole meal platter because ‘your creative brain needs energy, no? and will cook you something quick and easy to eat. He will feed you though, not letting you touch or halt the process, because he’s that considerate. Just be careful when he tries to give you water, ask for a straw or you might clink your teeth against the glass when he tries to get you hydrated, bless him.

He’ll ask questions about the designs and your own experience with it, expressing a vested interest in your connection to the art as he’s more used to one type of culture, so if you come from a different culture then he’ll want to know about your own cultural experiences and compare. He will also tell you stories of the few times he’s seen mehndi on people. He will also try to pronounce it as closely as possible to the way you do, he has a lot of respect for different languages and cultures.

If you offer to let him do a design he is both very honoured and also extremely nervous, simply because he had never done it before and while he is very good at using weapons, art was not his best subject in school and he will need guidance. Please be patient with him, and have some tissues ready to use, he will need the whole box by the end. He is determined to do your trust good.

Will make designs based upon his own iterations of what would be acceptable from what he’s seen of your designs and those of the past. He knows that it is often floral patterning, so he will try to make something unique. It might not be as intricate but one can easily see it is heartfelt.

If you let him sneak his name anywhere or sign his design? You’re forever one of his favourite people like that’s such a high honour to him, you’re family now. He is protecting you so hard for allowing him a chance to do something creative, nice and sweet. And if you show it off? The man’s chest is puffed up, and he never stops smiling. The rest of Los Vaqueros actually worry that something has happened to one of his enemies.

Now, Alejandro knows it is originally an art meant for mostly women, so if you offer to do some for him, he will assess the situation and likely say he’s not sure or a soft no. If you insist upon it though, he will allow you one design, something preferably in a small place as he is at work often and so he will likely want to have it be small and personal and somewhat hidden, like the inside of his elbow or between his fingers, a small one inside his wrist, that kind of thing. If you still make it intricate, dear God he is the happiest alive. Will subtly show it off like Price would, too, as he is so proud to wear something by you. If anyone in Los Vaqueros makes fun of him for it though they’ve fucked up. No one insults a gift from you!

He prefers designs that are less floral but definitely has a softer aesthetic, and if you do something that depicts Mexican culture, he’s over the moon and will actually show it off all the time. He’d be more towards animal-like designs.

If you did one on him and it fades, he is sad to see it go but does not demand to make it happen again. He knows the religious importance and just subtly asks you when the next holiday is, and if you’re doing mehndi for it. But if you notice and just offer to touch it up he will not stop you. The soft look in his eye and his relaxed posture show how thankful he is to be treated to this.

Other members of Los Vaqueros may actually come to you too after seeing what you did for their leader, as Alejandro repays your artistry by telling others who are interested. On some days when there is no missions and it is a more civilian time, the partners and children of the Vaqueros may come to you too for mehndi/henna. You could make a business out of it, just saying.

Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra

Purest angel is confused but so very into it. You’re putting paste onto your arm and its coming out in pretty designs? Wow! He needs to know more asap.

He’s going to sit and stare at it, tilting his head and following the directions of your hand. He looks like a curious puppy as he quietly watches you.

He is quiet curious, and will ask very quietly about what it is you are doing. If you tell him its for a religious celebration, he’ll listen intently. He will sit and listen to you without speaking or interrupting, saving any questions for last. Like Alejandro, he has some experience with differing cultures and wants to give you as much respect as he can, cause you do the same for him.

You mean this is thousands of years old?! Is incredulous but in a good way. Genuinely cannot believe it but it makes him believe in humanity more because he thinks of it as representing innate human goodness in creation than destruction. Is genuinely impressed and will try to do more research on his own time.

When he hears its a religious celebration his heart kind of breaks and he looks like a wounded puppy cause he feels awful knowing that he’s done nothing, even if he’s not consciously at fault he does feel really bad. He’ll then spent the entire time you are doing your mehndi, and the rest of the day, doing everything your mind can come up with but first he’ll enjoy mehndi with you because that is what you’re doing right now.

Tell him about your culture. PLEASE. He wants to hear more about the outside world and about the people he works with and would love love love to vicariously travel through you when you tell him about every experience you have had with mehndi. He needs to know so leave no detail out.

Like Alejandro, he will not try to guess but will observe and ask what you’re making, wanting to hear the process and familiarize himself with the traditions of the art, or just your own style and creativity if you’re not going traditional. He just likes to see what others do, he likes observing people he almost got knocked out for it once by an angry misunderstanding Alejandro years ago but it never got too big and they’ve been friends since. It’s very different from traditional Mexican arts so he will be very interested to learn of it, a very visual learner. Stares at your arm the way a scientist stares into the microscope at a tardigrade of interest. Please forgive him he’s just very curious-

If you ask him to get you food or water he absolutely will because he was raised to be the most gentlemanly of gentlemen in Las Almas. He will give you water in a straw to prevent spilling and have some food that he can just scoop and make it easy for you to bite into at your own time, giving you pace to eat when you’re ready. He is an okay enough cook for simple recipes so expect something with eggs or veggies, something with little cleanup or change of breaking. He will hold the food out and let you eat when you’d like, or if its on a stick just let you munch off the skewer to prevent you from losing time.

If you offer to do a design with him as an inspiration or part of it anywhere, he is going to whisper a thousand good wishes of health, luck, prosperity, fertility, wealth, happiness, wellness, safety, fortune, every blessing under the sun. You want to put something on your skin in remembrance of him? He is deceased. He will die and kill for you and name an operation after you, you’re the best-

He would love anything you do, even if its just his initials, and he will always always smile when he sees you in public. He would love his initials or name hidden like a signature on the fanciest cast even though there is no injury. Is so flattered. The more elaborate you do it, the closer he comes to grateful tears.

If you offer to do some on him, his sleeves are getting rolled up faster than Snoop Dogg can roll a joint. He will excitedly hold out his hands and actually tells you to go ham. If you do take a minute or so to ask what he wants he’ll give an honest answer but it might be incoherent just cause he’s so excited. Will accept anything. He particularly likes the lattice-work, as it looks like intricate lace, and a few flowers are cool too! But you get infinite respect points if you use historical references of Mexican culture and literature or environment in the design. The man will be floored so hard he’ll come out the other side of the globe.

Will try to show off the mehndi when he has a chance and he gives zero fucks if anyone says anything because both he and Alejandro will beat their ass. Is not going to be loud about it but the smile on his face and the consistent flexing in the sun trying to show it off is enough for people to get the obvious hint to look at it.

If you let him to one one you, he’ll actually try to pull back, as he feels it might be disrespectful to take hold of the actual item rather than just having someone from that culture doing it onto him. It will take some time for him to give in, like a while. He actually doesn’t want to do it. If you just let him do something small though, he’ll be much easier to negotiate with. Also, he’s insecure about his hand-eye coordination, so he’ll just make small cute things and its really up to you to connect them or leave them be. He will most likely do floral patterns on you, flowers or vines or something simple and easy to do that can be easily integrated into your own style and design.

When the design fades, it makes him slightly sad but its completely up to you if you want to do it again. He’ll never say no to another application, as he sees it as a chance to get creative, but it will be totally up to you.

Like Alejandro, will ask when the next holiday is because he is invested in the lives of his friends, and he will forever do whatever he can to make sure that you have a chance to celebrate it with your beloved tradition. He will literally just buy you a new tube of mehndi whenever you ask, will go shopping with you for it because he believes you know best. Purest boy, protect him.

Sources:

Barraza Carlos, Arabs in Mexico. Assimilation and Cultural Heritage (link)

Bonus: Phillip ‘Shadow-1′ Graves

Fucker thinks its weird and teases you about it

But if others around the base do it he’s like ‘oh wow that shit rocks’

Gets jealous and wants one

Note: Absolutely not 💖🖕🏽

156 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 1 year

Note

I want that OG Soapghost you told me about

Pretty pls?

Hell yeah!

Soap smiled. “I’m finally a Captain. You know that puts me above you right. Gotta follow my orders.”

Ghost chuckled under his breath. “Really? You think I’ll listen?” He was teasing, looking at from where he was sitting on Soap’s new desk. Soap had an office now which was all kinds of exciting.

“I know you will.” Soap answered honestly.

“Congratulations, Johnny.” Ghost said softly. “You deserve it.”

Soap got the bottle of whiskey out, Scotch because it was his celebration after all, and fixed two glasses. “Yeah, shame I’m celebrating with Ghost though.”

Ghost stiffened before sighing. “Johnny...”

“Simon.” Soap looked up at him. “First order. Take the mask off.”

He held the drink between them, pinning Ghost down with a glare. It took a minute, but slowly, Ghost reached up and slid the mask off. And there was Simon.

“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous.”

“Fuck off.” Simon blushed and took the drink. “We’re not separate people ya know. You’re still celebrating with Ghost.”

“Yeah, but ya got my meaning. I much prefer seeing Simon’s bonnie face than Ghost’s mask.” Soap moved between Ghost’s legs, hand on one of his thighs.

“You’re a captain now. Doesn’t that mean you’d be taking advantage of me?” Simon teased, a blush spreading across his face.

“Aye. Maybe so. I don’t think you mind.” Soap kissed him softly, tracing the scars on his face. “Missed you.”

“I’ve been with you all day.”

“I missed how you are when we’re alone.”

Ghost suddenly jumped. “The door I didn’t-”

“Calm down, darling. I locked it. No one else is going to see you.” Soap reassured and slid his hands up, grabbing Ghost’s hips and then sliding along his stomach. “Like I’d let anyone. I’ll be like Athena and blind them for being so bold.”

Ghost laughed softly, head tilting back. Soap knew exactly how to get to him. He knew how to honey his words and strike the right chords.

With a smooth motion, Soap had Ghost flat on his back on the desk, one of his legs pushed up to his chest. A thrill went up his spine at the knowledge that no one else could do this. If any of them tried, they’d be dead on the floor. Hell, any of them get close enough, they’d have a few extra holes in them.

But John MacTavish could. Ghost blushed all pretty when he did.

“Trying to christen your desk sir? Could’ve warned me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap kissed along his neck, marking the pale skin a deep shade of red and purple. He felt Ghost clawing at his back through his shirt and well that just wouldn’t do.

Ghost whined when he pulled away but Soap pulled off his shirt and he quieted immediately, looking all over him like he was looking for wounds before relaxing and enjoying the sight. Soap flexed a little and Ghost’s thighs squeezed around him.

“Come on. Don’t have all night.” Ghost took off his clothes and undid his pants. He moved to try to bend over the desk and Soap just yanked him back, pinning him back down. “Aren’t you gonna...?”

“Wanna look at you first. Second order, take the rest of it off.” Soap so rarely got to see all of them and he was feeling lucky tonight. Apparently, he guessed right because Simon slowly undressed for him.

There were so many scars. From torture, shrapnel, burns, and stray bullets that luckily didn’t end him. Soap loved every bit of it. Loved that Ghost’s stomach had a slight give, mostly because Soap had been getting on to him about eating. The tattoos that intertwined with them all.

“Fucking hell...”

“It’s gruesome.” Simon mumbled. “Don’t know why you like staring.”

“You’re gorgeous. Bloody masterpiece.” Soap held him by his waist. “One day, I’ll convince you to let me draw you.”

“You have a snowball’s chance in hell.” Ghost gritted out, staring at the ceiling. Soap could tell it was getting to be too much so he finished undressing himself and started to kiss him again. Slowly, he started to relax again.

Johnny grabbed the lube and Simon spread his legs, hands reaching to grab the edge of the desk above his head. He made sure the lube was warm before gently pushing his fingers into him. Always two to start because Ghost loved the burn it caused.

“Little bit masochistic ain’t ye?”

Simon flushed and pushed closer, trying to get them deeper. “Just a little. Fuck.” He closed his eyes as Soap drove his fingers in deeper, making sure he could take it with ease before pulling away.

Soap held Ghost’s leg up, hand on one of his thighs to keep him steady. He watched him as he pushed in, forcing Simon to look at him. Those big brown eyes were misty and he was clearly trying to bite back a whimper.

“Need a second?”

“Fuck off. I know you just ask to fuel your ego you prick.” Ghost spat at him before throwing his head back.

“If I don’t ask, you won’t tell me!” Soap laughed, rolling hips as he finally bottomed out. “Just want to make sure I’m taking care of you, Riley.”

Simon relaxed and moved to hold on to Soap’s arms instead, closing his eyes as Soap started to fuck him. “Hate that name.”

“One day, I’ll make you a MacTavish and you won’t have to use it anymore.” Soap mumbled against his ear, slamming into him to hear him muffle a scream.

“Really? Don’t see either of us as the marrying type.”

“I’ll make an honest man out of you. Promise.” Soap meant it, even they were just bantering. One day, he’d make Simon his. Maybe not legally since his lover was dead according to the law, but in every way he could.

Simon stopped talking once Soap found his sweet spot, hitting it over and over again. Soap tried to be quiet, wanting to drink in every sound he could get from Simon. He really was stunning. Especially with all the scars.

Soap sped up, finally getting Simon to stop bothering to muffle himself. Simon pulled him in closer until Soap crushed him against the desk. He kept kissing Soap desperately, shaking when he finally came.

Soap smirked. “Didn’t even have to touch you that time. I’m getting better.” He thrust in a few more times before pulling out and coming over his chest.

Simon hummed in response and refused to move. Soap shook his head and found the rag he had brought in specifically for this. “You okay? Ya know I need you speaking.”

“I’m alright, sir.” Simon said softly, He held on to him, looking spent.

“Come on, love, let me get you to bed.”

“Yours.” Simon sat up, pulling his pants back on.

“Mine, of course.

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

314 notes · View notes

pacifymebby · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can i request a peaky blinders x terminally ill reader. Like, they don’t want to fall in love with her because it’s like falling in love with a ticking time bomb that’s gonna leave them devastated, but she’s just so lovely they can’t help them self

So cause I'm not terminally ill and therefore can't write a totally honest view of what this would be like, im going to try. Some of them might not be 100% how u asked so sorry in advance.

Tommy

🌿 He can tell you're hiding something from him and the rest of the world from the moment he meets you, he can tell its something dark and sad, but he thinks that makes you just like him and so, if anything, it only draws him in closer to you.

🌿 He thinks you're beautiful, he likes to listen to you singing while you work down the market. He can sense that whatever your secrets are, they mean he should stay away, but even before he really falls for you he can't. You just drew him in.

🌿 I think in the case of tommy it would be you trying to keep your distance from him, putting up walls and trying not to let him too close. You don't want to hurt him, and you don't want to hurt yourself by dangling a future you know you can't have in front of yourself.

🌿 But one day Tommy gets fed up with all your defenses and kind of snaps, calmly, but still, he lets his frustration get to him all "Whyre you doing this eh darlin, its like I'm trying really, really bloody hard to get to know you but theres all these doors you keep lockin right in front of me fuckin face, every time i try to talk to you, another wall going up and up and up... Whyre you doin that? Puttin up walls eh?" he'd say it all so intensely, and so calm and soft by the end of it, so that you can see the affection and need in his eyes abd it breaks your heart...

🌿 And when you tell him whats really going on you expect him to leave but he doesn't

🌿 Because this is Tommy isn't it. So narcissistically obsessed with his own doom that if he'd really thought about it for a second he could have guessed that he was going to lose him. That any chance of happiness he had with you would be the temporary, doomed kind.

🌿 He kind of embraces the pain and punishes himself with it every day, but is also determined that you don't deserve this. Maybe he thinks he deserves to lose the love of his life as penance for his sins but you do not deserve to lose your life because some ugly man from Birmingham did some terrible things. So he'd be defiant about it, he'd love you anyway despite knowing he perhaps should try not to. He'd love you like pressing on a bruise, embracing the pain he's in whilst doing everything in his power to give youba good and happy life.

🌿 He won't leave you. He'll tell you he's not going to leave you, he'll make sure you're completely certain of that. "Its important to me darlin, that you know that right, I'm not gonna leave you, I love you and I won't stop just because of some fuckin illness yeah, i won't..."

🌿 Actually he'll straight up marry you. Even if you think thats pointless because you won't be around for very long, he'll insist that it happens. He loves you, he wants to marry you whilst youve the chance.

🌿 Blames himself for the illness, even though you were ill before you met him. In his head its like this... If you were fated to be the love of his life, then that is what doomed you to a premature death, because he needs to be punished for his sins. He thinks you were sent to punish him for his sins.

🌿 He won't tell you what he's doing but he'll keep searching for ways to heal you, things that could save your life. Even if he doesn't find any, he won't give up. He'll start fuckin praying again. He'll go sit in a church and break down, beg for your life to be spared and his taken instead.

🌿 But he won't let anyone see or know his desperation. On the outside he will mostly remain stoic.

🌿 And he'll want to take care of you every step of the way, when you're in your last days he probably won't want anyone else around, just you and him, him doting on your every need, holding you when you sleep. Always scared you won't wake up. Telling you he loves you, but more importantly showing you he loves you with every little thing he does for you.

🌿 You might try to make him promise you he'll find someone else and fall in love and have a family and all that without you and he won't mean it when he promises you that he will. But he'll promise you anything, say anything to keep you calm and content in your last days.

🌿 He won't let you see him crying, he won't be "weak" in front of you. He'll be so brave and determined even though his heart is breaking because he won't want to upset you. He'd want to preserve your happiness and comfort for as long as possible.

🌿 Rather than getting teary upset i feel like he'd express his emotions through frustration and take them out on other people. He'd probably be a lot less patient with other people, snapping at them and making rash careless decisions. His brothers would have to work extra hard to keep him "sane" and make sure he doesn't do too much damage.

Alfie

🐻 Is an "old man" well aware of his own mortality and of life, suffering and death. You're not the first terminally ill person he's met and he knows exactly what he's getting himself into by getting close to you

🐻 His friends warn him maybe once, maybe they ask him if he really thinks its a good idea, getting so close to someone who won't be around forever... But one look from alfie, one quick and cutting sentence is enough to warn them off ever asking again.

🐻 "Oh an i suppose you think you will be around forever do you Ollie?"

🐻 He's not naive, he knows its going to hurt but he's also not naive enough to believe then that it won't be worth it.

🐻 Because he adores you, your gentle ways, your soft beauty, your kindness, how sweet you are, all he ever wants to do when he sees you is hold your waist in his hands and draw you in close to him. Hold onto you and have you all to himself.

🐻 He loves you, to put it simply, and you, to put it even more simply, deserve love. Being ill, dying doesnt make you any less deserving of that love. And he has so much love for you.

🐻 "If I can't have you for as long as I live right darlin, gonna make sure you have me for as long as you live yeah, reckon that makes sense doesn't it, makes perfect sense to me poppet, yeah makes perfect sense to me..."

🐻 He'd be completely devoted to you. He'd spoil you rotten, he'd want to make sure you got to do everything you wanted to, see everything you wanted to whilst you were still able to. He'd piss everyone at the bakery off by taking all this time away, practically throwing his business away so that he could spend time with you.

🐻 Basically puts Tommy in this frustrating and stupid position where tommys no choice but to mind the bakery whilst Alfie is off with you

🐻 And then when you're really sick and getting weaker every day Alfie is by your bedside doing as much for you as he can. He doesnt want some nurse you dont know attending to you, he doesnt want you to feel alone... He only trusts himself to be able to take care of you and he probably does everyone else's head in telling them exactly how you like to be washed/dressed, exactly how to cook your food.

🐻 Much like Tommy he'd be desperately sad about whats happening to you, he'd feel his heart break a little more each day but he probably won't cry in front of you, he'll probably try to be brave for you.

🐻 Very short tempered with everyone else. He will cry but only when he's alone, honestly maybe in front of Tommy and only for a second before he composes himself again.

🐻 Writes a whole fucking opera about you as a coping mechanism.

🐻 Always wants to be holding you or touching you somehow, like hes scared to forget how it feels. Always holding your hand in his.

🐻 Likes reading you to sleep, putting records on for you. Writing music for you.

Arthur

🍂 Is devestated, can't put his feelings into words at all, can't cope with the idea of losing you.

🍂 Everyone warns him about falling for you but their warnings come too late because he already has and he adores you. He wants to spend his whole life with you and when it becomes apparent that thats never going to happen he is distraught.

🍂 He doesn't want you to live he NEEDS you to live, he can't accept things the way they are, has to believe you can survive even though deep down he knows you can't.

🍂 He gets so angry and bitter, not with you or at you but at the world and with everything else. He's angry at the illness for taking you from him, he's angry at the world for being such a cruel and unfair place.

🍂 Tries to turn to god, tries to pray, thinks that perhaps if he repents for all the bad things hes done or, if he begs god enough, he can trade with you, he can die so that you don't have to. Because "its fucked up isnt it darlin, that someone so fucking kind and good and pure can have to deal with this, whilst the rotten likes of me just go on living an fillin the world up with bad things"

🍂 Arthur doesn't have the self control his brother has, he won't hold back in front of you even if sometimes it would be kinder for him to do so. There are probably things you don't really need to hear about how cruel the world is, how unfair everything is, but he doesn't have a filter and sometimes when his emotions get the better of him he just spills it all.

🍂 He will cry in front of you, you'll hold him whilst he sobs into your chest and breaks down. Then apologises because "you shouldn't have to be dealin with this, I should be being the fuckin strong one.."

🍂 Takes a lot of his emotions out in the ring and they probably have to try and stop him from going there because the damage he will do with all these enotions coursing through him could be deadly.

🍂 He would get more and more unstable the more ill you got, unable to cope with whats happening. But he'd so desperately want to be a good husband to you. He'd beg Polly and his sister for help, asking them for advice. Polly would probably be his rock here, giving him advice, giving him a hug when he needs one, a slap and a shake when he needs to snap out of it and be there for you.

🍂 She'd help him take care of you, teach him how to look after you, how to be gentle when he's taking care of you.

🍂 At the point that you're too weak to get out of bed he'd lie with you or sit with you whenever he could, he wont give you peace talking to you about everything thats been happening, nervous talking too because he doesnt like the silence. But you like listening to him ramble about everything.

🍂 You also like the fact that no ones worried about talking of peaky business in front of you so you get all of the gossip.

🍂 He won't be particularly articulate but he'll tell you he loves you constantly.

🍂 Brings you little gifts of food and sweet treats all the time. Makes you food his mam woulda made him when he was sick as a child.

John

🌼 John seems so happy go lucky, laidback, still such a child at heart and you're drawn to him because of that. Admiring him from afar, falling in love with his laughter and that cheeky grin. Torturing yourself because hes something you just cant have.

🌼 You don't want to let yourself near him because you don't want to take that carefree nature away from him or taint him with the side effects of your illness, the stress anxiety and torment which seems to taint everyone you get close to these days.

🌼 But John has been in love with you since the second he laid eyes on you and he's determined to ignore your warnings about staying away from him.

🌼 As far as he's concerned you deserve to be loved, whether or not you have the potential to break his heart or not. Technically - and this is an argument he comes up with all the time - technically, everyone has the potential to break everyones heart, he could get shot and killed tomorrow before anythings even really happened to you. He could fall in love with some other lass and she could get hit by a car or die in some sudden accident. "Just because you're really ill flower, doesn't mean I shouldn't love you. Doesn't make you not worth loving... If anything it means you should be loved twice as hard now... I've got a whole lifetimes worth of love to give you so better not to keep stalling... "

🌼 His family think hes impulsive but he marries you almost imediately. Youre the love of his life and he wants to spend as much time as he possibly can being your husband.

🌼 He would want you to have the best possible life you could, even if it was only short so he'd take you travelling to see all the places you wanted to see. He'd help you do all the things you wanted to do before you died.

🌼 He'd do his best to keep up his usual ray of sunshine persona, still being boyish and charming, always teasing you, always trying to make you smile. Out of all the peaky men John is the one who treats you least like you're terminally ill. He isn't quite so obsessed with being careful with you or treating you like you're delicate. He lets you make the "I'm going to die anyway" joke sometimes when it comes to you doing unwise things like drinking/smoking or going for a ride.

🌼 He wants to keep you laughing and smiling for as long as he possibly can

🌼 When you get more sick and you begin to grow weaker he does struggle more, he doesnt like seeing you look so unwell, so in pain. He wants to be with you all the time but he doesn't want you to see him get upset.

🌼 He goes to Ada for support and she lets him hug it out or cry to her. She'd give him the love actually advice of "cheer up, no ones gonna shag you if you cry all the time" type of joking advice which is exactly what he needs to keep his head up and stay strong for you.

🌼 He too would want to be there for you and help care for you everyday even if he doesn't really know what hes doing. If he couldn't help he'd hold your hand and reassure you.

Bonnie

🍀 He's heartbroken when he finds out, naturally, no one wants the person they love to suffer, however

🍀 Rather than get too caught up in how long you have left together, Bonnie feels blessed just to have you at all and he's determined to love you for as long as he can.

🍀When he tells you this, "I love you little dove, all this love aint goin anywhere just cause you are, I'll love you my whole life I know I will..." "But you shouldn't Bon its going to hurt you so much, I'm gonna cause you so much sufferin an you don't deserve that..." "You don't deserve to be alone though do ye? And I'm tough dove, I can survive," he'd make a show of flexing his biceps to prove how strong he is and try to make you laugh.

🍀 Like John he's determined to keep you happy and smiling for as long as he can. He'll make jokes, he'll tell you how beautiful you are, how loved you are. He'll keep telling you all these things even when your light does begin to fade.

🍀 He spends as much time with you as he possibly can. Being a hopeless romantic he'll definitely want to marry you.

🍀His own mother died when he was young and his father's already been through this, Aberama would be a little torn, he'd want his son to be happy and so he wouldn't want him devoting his life to a woman who's going to leave him so soon, but he'd also want his son to be happy which means letting him devote his life to you.

🍀 Bonnie would try to be brave, he would try not to cry in front of you, and though he might not shed any actual tears, you can tell when he does want to cry, when he's upset his jaw tenses and he gets this far away misty look in his eyes.

🍀He wants to give you everything in the whole wide world but he doesn't have the time, he wants to make you proud of him so he's extra determined to win all his fights and train hard... But sometimes he also just, can't see the point? What does fighting matter, what does being the champion of the world matter when the love of his life is going to have to leave him so soon.

🍀When you get restless he wraps you up warm and takes you off on horseback to the middle of nowhere where the two of you can get some peace. He helps you bathe in the creeks and rivers, lies with you wrapped in blankets under the redwood trees.

🍀When you're ill he wants to be the one to take care of you, to nurse you, to help feed and bathe you. He won't leave your side for a second and he'll really piss Tommy Shelby off by refusing fights and refusing to work. He doesnt care if his life or future is threatened. Nothings getting between him and you now.

🍀 Sings for you whenever you ask, tries to make up little stories for you. Is still determined to make you laugh/smile whenever he can, even when you're very weak.

🍀 Always bringing you flowers and pretty things he finds for you outside when you're too weak to go exploring with him.

🍀 Holds you every night when you're going to sleep, lies awake listening to you breathing determined that you'll wake up again in the morning. Kisses your hair/forehead/temple and hands all the time.

Isaiah

🐀He loves you before he knows youre terminally ill and you're affraid to tell him because you don't want him to leave.

🐀Everyone can see him falling for you, he's not exactly subtle about it - and that fact alone means he must be falling really hard for you. He asks after you all the time, he's always abandoning his friends when he's out if he sees you, choosing to waste his time talking to you instead.

🐀And regretfully it's Michael who ends up telling him about your condition. When he finds out he does get scared. He panics and doesn't know what to do.

🐀He doesn't want to lose you, but he doesn't want to get too close... The problem is he already has feelings for you and he can't just turn them off. In fact he knows full well that even if he'd known from the second he saw you at the Garrison he wouldn't have been able to stop himself falling in love with you because you're perfect. You're his perfect girl and he would never have been able to ignore you.

🐀So he backs away a little, he tries to fall out of love but he struggles and, just as he was expecting he fails. If anything trying to pull away from you only makes him more certain of his adoration for you. He loves you. He's so sure of that now.

🐀You aren't stupid, you notice him pulling away and trying to seperate from you and though it makes you sad you're not surprised and you can't say you dont completely understand.

🐀 So you try to tell him that, you try to speak to him gently, try to tell him exactly whats wrong with you, roughly how long you have left. And he listens and tries not to get upset and does quite a good job, then when you say "it's alright Isaiah i understand... If you dont want to stay I understand..." thats when he gets upset

🐀 He gets angry, upset with you for not valuing yourself more, for accepting that someone might not want to love you. But mostly he's angry at himself because even this little argument is wasted time he could have spent holding you, kissing you, telling you how much he adores you.

🐀"No don't you dare say that, don't you dare pretend that this is fuckin fine or that you understand, I've been so fucking selfish love, you deserve to be loved and I don't fuckin deserve you because for a second I was too busy thinkin bout me fuckin self to think about you and what you need!"

🐀And from there on out hes unshakable and so stubborn about loving you, he spends as much time with you as he possibly can. He tells you he loves you like a hundred times a day.

🐀Michael and his friends can't understand whats gotten into him, he asks him one day if he doesn't think he's "wasting" his time and Isaiah has to try not to get angry. Because thats a cruel way of putting it even if thats not how it was intended to be.

🐀"Course I'm not wasting my time, she's the only good use of my time... This is the only important thing i think I've ever done with me life, you know... Loving her like... If it were you in my position you'd understand, it'd be the same for you..." "but you coulda... You know chose not to be in your position..." "nah" says Isaiah, "i couldnt have chosen anything, s'not a choice mate, i just love her and always have..."

Michael

☘️ He definitely experiences "love at first sight" which is something he didn't really believe in before. But when he sees you he's swept away by your beauty and he knows, just knows, youre the girl hes supposed to fall in love with.

☘️ He tries to pursue you and you don't really take him very seriously because he's michael gray and hes got a reputation about him when it comes to the ladies. You think he just wants a one night stand and so you flirt back and laugh him off and tease him until he ends up confessing everything to you in a desperate attempt at getting you to take him seriously.

☘️ But then he's confessed everything to you, so now you have to tell him something too, thats you've an incurable illness. At first he doesn't understand and you have to spell it out to him. "It means I'm going to die Michael... And much sooner than you will..."

☘️ His first instinct is anger, he feels upset and betrayed that you didn't tell him straight away but this quickly subsides because he isn't really angry, hes heartbroken.

☘️ "If you were to ask my advice I'd say you should go off and find yourself a different girl," you smirk, youre only joking and actually if he were to follow that advice you'd be heartbroken, and pissed off too.

☘️ But Michael is two things : a gentleman and desperately in love with you.

☘️ So he just smirks and shakes his head, "forgive me love but i dont think you give very good advice..."

☘️ He knows how much its going to hurt but he keeps telling himself he's been through worse. He hasnt but he deludes himself with this notion so that he can stay strong for you.

☘️ He won't show you how upset he is about it unless really pushed to, perhaps nearer the end he'll break down, unable to hold it in and stay strong... But for the most part he is determined not to show weakness or to let you feel sad or despairing. He wants to reassure you all the time that everything will be alright and you don't need to be scared.

☘️Cries a lot in secret. Cries to his mother about it. Pol tries her best to support the both of you but its difficult watching her son have his heart ripped out. Difficult too watching you have yours ripped out.

☘️ Sometimes you wish you hadn't fallen in love because knowing what you're going to leave behind now makes the thought so much more painful. When you talk to Michael about it though he puts on his brave face and offers you all the reassurance in the world. Tells you you'll meet eachother again one day. Jokes he might not even be that far behind you. You hate it when he jokes like that though and he often does it just to wind you up, just to get you to play hit him and lighten your mood.

☘️ He'd organise the best private care for you, go with you to all your doctors appointments and try to keep as much of it under control as possible. He'd want you to try any cure they threw at you and there probably would be arguments about it if you didn't want to try something. In the end though he'd always put your wants above his own and listen to you.

☘️ Michaels quite a serious and sullen lad but he doesn't want you to feel serious or sullen so he often has to force himself out of his over thinking moods and into a more lighthearted one. All he wants to do is keep you smiling and hopeful.

#peaky blinders headcanon #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders imagines #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray x reader #isaiah jesus x reader

316 notes · View notes

icarusthefoolish · 1 year

Text

Finding a Family in a Ruined world

Summary: Ellie and Joel end up camping in an old and abandoned town, while clearing out the infected in the Area and trying to settle down they meet a child.

Warnings: body horror, emaciation, infected wounds, Mentions of past shoddy done amputation, child abandonment.

Notes: No gender specified. Ellie and Joel might be a bit OOC mostly based on the game not the HBO series since i haven't gotten to watch it. No mentions of Y/N

Original idea by: @lemonlaides

Wc: 5k

Note: I've been messaged by the author of Notre Dame @lemonlaides mentioning that this story is incredibly close to theirs. That was never my intention. They said i can keep this up if i give them credit for the original idea and change some stuff. Again copying them was not my intention.

Joel and Ellie were on their way to the Firefly Hospital and usually they would hunker down in some place which is not an Abandoned town that's probably full of Infected but they didn't really have much of a choice, they had arrived to scavenge but ended up having to stay the night because it got dark too fast. They were currently killing off what they hoped to be the last infected in the area.

Ellie let out a grunt after she kicked one of the Walkers of her before stabbing her knife into its rotten skull and piercing it's brain killing it. Joel was currently stomping on the head of another infected before he let out a deep sigh. "Alright that shoulda been all of em... hopefully." Ellie nodded before looking around the area, other then a few houses that looked more then just unstable and a few shops there was a big Clocktower which would probably be the best area to stay the night in.

"Joel, I'd say we should ger into that Clocktower to stay in." The man nodded walking to the door which was locked tight. Ellie looked around "maybe i can find a way in through a smashed window or some-" she looked over when she heard a smack and the lock break, Joel had smashed the butt of his shotgun into the lock effectively breaking it. "That... Also works i guess..."

She shook her head before Joel pushed the door open carefully, Ellie stood behind him flinching because of the smell, the entire area smelled like death, decay and food? She looked to Joel who was scanning the area full of opened and half eaten food that didn't look older then a day at best. What Ellie also noticed was that most of the lower walls were full with crude small drawings, some which looked like stick figures others that looked like someone had just scribbled on the wall.

The floor boards above them creaked loudly, Joel immediately pushed Ellie behind him holding out his shotgun. Ellie looked up letting out a gasp when she saw a face with big scared looking eyes look down from a gap of the floor boards, the gap was big enough to see the kids face, with cheeks that were sunken and a generally emaciated frame.

Joel put the gun down carefully his face going slightly white at the way the child looked. He lowered the gun to the floor before turning back to the kid. Who came down the raggedy steps but stayed far enough away that they could run. Ellie walked Infront of Joel "hi there, I'm Ellie the grumpy man behind me is called Joel" Joel let out a huff at that though he couldn't really complain because he was grumpy. "We aren't here to hurt you." Ellie smiled but her smile vanished when she saw bloody rags tied to the stump of their Left Leg.

They answered their name back. timidly "My mommy and daddy left me and i dunno where they are..." They sniffled slightly and Ellie frowned. "We have some food if you want? You look hungry kid." They nodded slightly "mhm i don't eat much because I can't find stuff. One day something bad happened to our neighbours and one of them tried getting me, when my mommy pulled me in here something bit me..." They lifted their left leg or what was left of it, "mommy and daddy pulled me in here and held me down... T-then i just remember that it hurt and there was a lot of red stuff..." Even Joel grimaced at that before standing next to Ellie.

"If you want we can help you with that too looks like it hurts kid." They hobled down the rest of the stairs and before looking at Joel and Ellie afraid not sure if they should trust them. Ellie smiled "don't worry we really just wanna help." They hummed looking at their leg before slightly nodding. Jole took his honestly nasty looking Med Pack out of the bag. He sighed before sitting down and grabbing their leg and carefully undoing the blood stained fabric, and honestly the sight under the fabric was worse then any Infected, not only because of how it looked but because of the way that this was a child maybe 6 or 7 years old if he had to guess.

The skin around the cut was red puffy and leaking a yellowish white pus. The suturing job was also no where near good but he guessed that that was all they had. "Alright kid.... This is probably gonna hurt." Ellie frowned and sat down next to them pulling out her Joke book. "Hey focus on me while he deals with that how about i tell you some jokes while you eat something hm?" She also pulled some candy that she had gotten a little while back and let them choose a few.

While Joel was trying to carefully disinfect the area, Ellie told them Jokes and honestly Joel wanted to groan at each one but at least she was Keeping the kids mind of the pain, They let out a whimper as soon as the alcohol touched the already inflamed skin. "Hey don't focus on how much it hurts i know it does, try to focus on me ok?" They nodded clenching their eye's closed and biting their lip.

Joel tried to clean the infected stump up quickly befor suturing it closed again and wrapping it up. "There hopefully that will stop the infection." He looked at the kid "you did good." Ellie looked to Joel "can they come with us? We can't just leave them here." Joel hummed, while Ellie was definitely right they also couldn't risk anything. He let out a small groan rubbing his hand down his face. "We'll talk about it tomorrow okay?"

Ellie nodded "alright you can sleep in my sleeping bag if you want." They smiled and nodded slightly "mhm I'd like that." Joel and Ellie got a small fire going to keep them warm through the night, Ellie opened up her sleeping bag and the child crawled in.

In the morning Joel had decided to take the kid with them, he didn't want to say it out loud but he'd grown fond of them in the short time they spent together. After what happened at the Firefly Hospital he was glad that the kid was too young to understand what was going on. So Joel Ellie and the child made their own home in Jackson. Their amputated stump started to heal thanks to the help of Maria who couldn't believe that a child had been living alone for who knows how long.

Their life's started becoming normal and they were a little family in their own way.

Tag list: @wilczachannn

(if you want to be added to my Taglist just send an ask.)

#aiko talks #aikos shit posts #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x you #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x platonic!reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader

221 notes · View notes

slytherintheundercroft · 1 year

Text

Secret Potion - Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Okay, this is my first go at a one shot, we'll se how it goes??? Hope you guys enjoy it! Lmk what you think!

Word count: 2.6k

Mostly fluff, (a little bit of a slower burning one sorry, LOL)

Y/N:

Classes for the day had finally ended, so you begin your venture outside, leaving through the Northern exit gate.

After a bit of a lengthy walk, find yourself along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. You're eagerly looking for the last ingredient for a potion you’ve been quite determined to make, despite your lack of skill in the subject. As you take some steps a bit further on the trail, deeper into the woods, you spot some. “Perfect!” you shout, “Ashwinder eggs!”

Once you’ve got them stowed away in your bag, you look little ways ahead, spotting a very familiar face. Your walk turns to more of a jog, as you catch up to him. "Sebastian?" you shouted. He turns to you with a surprised smile. "Y/N! What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?"

"Well.." you gesture, "I guess I could be asking you the same thing!"

"Touché." He chuckles. "Honestly, I just felt like getting some fresh air, and being surrounded by trees really makes it easier to relax" he said, his voice warm and inviting. "You know how it gets being stuck in that castle, especially once classes let out. All the noise and crowds in the halls, with everyone mingling and rushing around. I just needed to get away for a while, I suppose. Does that sound crazy?"

"No, it doesn't sounds crazy at all" you assured him. It was nice, you thought. To be so lucky... spending a bit of time alone with Sebastian, and so far from the school. You attempt to shake the idea from your head, trying to keep yourself composed. No, he obviously doesn't even think about you that way, anyways.

You had been so lost in your own mind while walking, that you had completely stopped paying attention to where you were going. You had seemed to be a great deal deeper into the forest than you would have hoped, and you start to notice the plethora of spiderwebs and scattered bones all around. And Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, where had he gone to? Shit. You began to worry a little, holding a tight grip on your wand, in the unfortunate instance of any unexpected attack.

While doing your best to find a way back and avoid trouble, you hear a loud snap from behind you, and chills instantly run up your spine. You ready your wand and turn to face the monster with a quick spell, only to be surprised, and closely met with Sebastian's tall stature. "Woah, please don't do anything hasty!" he yelled, quickly raising his hands into the air. You throw your wand to the ground in total shock. "Bloody hell, Sebastian! Don't sneak up like that! I nearly turned you to dust!" you gasped.

He lets out a relieved, yet playful laugh. "Ha! I would have countered any spell you'd have thrown at me anyway, I'm not worried" he smirks, proudly. You roll your eyes and let out an irritated groan, swiftly picking your wand up off of the ground. "Where had you gone to, anyway?" you question. Looking at you as if you were joking. "Actually," He replies "I had stopped to catch some lacewing flies from a nearby brush, I had even said it directly to you, Y/N. You were the one who seemed to walk off. Something on your mind, hm?" he pressed. As cute and charming as he was, he could still be such a pain. He stepped a bit closer, reaching out his hand in a gesture for you to follow him s bit more safely. "Look, I'm sorry I startled you.. Didn't exactly want to draw any attention, seeing as you wandered right into a spider lair..." He said, apologetically.

"Yeah, I suppose you do have a point, there.." You say, accepting his gesture, taking his hand and following him out of wherever it was you had ended up. His hand, you thought. It was so gentle.. and soft...

You quickly retracted your hand away from his, once again stopping yourself from thinking those silly thoughts. "I'll be okay, I won't run off again" you joke, letting out a small chuckle. He laughs to you at the remark, and you both walk on for a while without much conversation, as you could now see the sun was beginning to set in the distance.

"So," he lead off "my inquiry from earlier... What was it you had come out here for, Y/N?" You felt yourself blush a bit at the question, not expecting him to be asking it again. "Oh!" you blurt out. "It's... for a potion, just an extra credit assignment for potions class! I need the extra practice" you said through an exaggerated laugh, knowing that it was only half true.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and just a shred of disbelief, but gave you the benefit of the doubt anyway. "Ah, a little project, eh? I can't say I know much about potions, but I'm always eager to help with any homework you might have, all you have to do is ask!" He said, giving you a friendly smile, as you nodded and smiled back.

You had both finally begun to trudge up the school grounds, the sun now entirely set and the moon already making it's way up the horizon. He pushed the large door open. "Ladies first" he insists, motioning his hand toward you, then to the open doorway. You walk together through a few halls, making your way towards the potions classroom. "Really though," he persisted "I'm always here when a friend of mine is in need, so don't hesitate to ask if you need any help with that potion."

Ah, there it is. "Of course, yeah! Friends" you said in a small, forced laugh. Even though, in your mind, you've always wished you two could have been more than friends.

You both slow to a stop, standing in the middle of a near-empty Central Hall. "Well," you say, as you pat your hands to your sides, rolling back and forth on your heels "I guess I'll go and work on this experiment, er- project in the potions classroom. Maybe I'll see you around?"

Sebastian's smile never faltered, but there was a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes at your indirect refusal of his offer to help. "You certainly will," he nodded "don't let me keep you." He gave a small, farewell wave as you parted ways, and you gave a him a scrunched smile.

Quickly, you stumble into the empty classroom, closing the door behind you. You lean against the door and let out a big sigh, one that almost felt like the first breath you'd taken in over an hour. You make your way over to a cauldron, opening a potion book and flipping to a page titled "Amortentia: The Love Potion". You hoped you could pull this off, let alone on your own. You studied the instructions carefully, making sure to add in the ingredients as directed on the page. It really was a rather difficult potion to brew, and the ingredients to find, most likely to discourage students from using it excessively.

This could take a while, you pondered.

Sebastian:

I waited, watching her walk to the potions classroom until she was no longer in sight. I let out a deep sigh, and then turned to head to the library. Why not catch up on a bit of reading? Might distract me from these things I keep feeling, for a while, at least. I open the door to the library, which also seems to be entirely vacant. I make my way over to the small section that houses romance novels, as they're one of my guilty pleasures. They're much easier to read when no one is around to poke fun about it.

I grab the first one I see, not caring which it is, considering I've already read them all anyway. I sit in my favorite spot in front of the warm fireplace, and flip to the first page of the book. I read through it for a good while, but for some reason, I just can't seem to focus on the words. All I can seem to wonder about is how she must be doing with that potion. And why did it seem so secret, anyway? It must really mean a lot to her, to have to be brewing it so late, especially on a night where we still have classes tomorrow. Maybe I could go check up on her? See how it's coming along? If she is still even there, that is.

I close the book with a clap, and gently place it back on the shelf. As I head towards the classroom, I feel my heart rate increase. I'm not nervous... Am I? I walk up to the door, but I hesitate to even open it. Should I open it? Gah, I think to myself, why am I so bloody nervous? Merlin's beard, Y/N... What are you doing to me? Okay, okay.. be cool.

When I opened the door a crack, I could smell the bubbling cauldron. It smelled rather... nice? Usually, in my opinion, the potions we make in class smell a tad awful. Hm. I walk over toward her, trying to be less sneaky to avoid startling her again. She does look so focused though, it's quite admirable. "Hm, how's the potion making going? I say, clearing my throat to break the silence.

Y/N:

"Ah! Sebastian!" I gasp, not expecting him of all people to come waltzing in here. I swiftly turned around to face him, trying my best to conceal the open book and the ingredients I had laid out on the table. I felt my face grow hot and red.

He was looking at me, smiling in that irresistible and slightly smug way he always does. "Hey now, what do we have here?" he asked, while his eyes seemed to travel to the table, and everything on it. He picked up the book, even putting on a show of pretending to read the instructions. "Hmm... Amortentia, is it? I've always wondered how to brew that one. Is it really for an assignment, Y/N? Or do you plan on... Persuading somebody?" he snickered. "Oh c'mon, you know I'm only joking! But in all honesty, is this truly for an assignment, Y/N? It's quite late to be toiling away over a cauldron, and on a school night, no less." he teased.

My face seemed to somehow feel more blushed than it already was. I reached to snag the book from him, and I turned away. I feel so embarrassed. He can't find out I'm making this to give him. "It's nothing, like I said... Just something to try and get a little extra credit in the class. You know my potions aren't all that exemplary." I lied right through my teeth. I don't even know if I sounded convincing..

"Really? From what I've read about this potion, it has quite a strong impact. If you have been assigned such a potion, I think I deserve some of the extra credit for helping you, in the event it works too well" he winked, keeping that coy smile on his face. "So, how are you going to see if it works? If you've brewed it properly?" he asked, sounding a bit more serious about his curiosity now.

I look to him, then to the cauldron with hesitation. I lean over the bubbling potion, breathing in all the different aromas.

"It smells like... the forest.. a small hint of fire... and.. old book pages..."

I backed away, the intoxicating scents almost too addicting to pull away from. He looked at me surprised, then raised his eyebrow, revealing that cunning smile again. "Is that so? Fascinating." he grinned. "I mean from what I've read, it affects people differently, in a more personal way, depending on what attracts them and what they like. So, this is how you describe it, hmm? A forest, fire, and..." Sebastian caught himself before he said, "books." but he did a poor job of hiding his excitement. "A very nice combination, if you ask me."

I look up at him, now feeling like I had mistakenly given too much away.

"Yeah.." I mumbled, clearing my throat. "Ha, I must have messed the potion up, those scents can't be right..." I lied through a falsely confident smile. "Guess I'll just have to try brewing it again!" I chuckled anxiously. I hoped that would tip him off enough from his suspicions.

I sensed he wasn't buying it, not even for a second. "Of course. If it were easy, everyone would be walking around on love potions, I'd say." he snickered, walking toward me, placing both hands on the table on either side of me. "Well, now I'm curious.." he said, slightly leaning forward, "If that's what doesn't attract you, then what does?" he looked eager to hear my answer.

I felt too choked up for words, and I seemed to run dry of any excuses to give. "I.. um.. I don't have to tell you that..." I murmured nervously, my back now against the table. I watched as his smile seemed to grow. He leaned in closer, our faces only being a few inches apart. "You don't?" he spoke, softly. He sounded so smug and confident. His eyes were now directly meeting mine, his gaze was unwavering, and he showed a bit of exhilaration in his smile. "And why is that?" He stared, gently.

I could feel my body temperature rising at the question, and I shakily drew in a breath. "W-why, why would you need to know?" I glance down, catching my breath, looking at his hands on either side of me grabbing the table, and looking back up at him. I felt almost dizzy at our closeness. "Oh, it's not that I need to know." he smirked, "But I want to know." His voice dropped to a whisper. He moved just a fraction closer. "Tell me" he quietly said, almost sounding demanding.

At this point, I was completely flustered by his presence. I could feel his breath, and I could smell the faint fire-y pine scent in the warmth radiating off of him. "Sebastian...." I trembled, my legs nearly buckling at the situation I now seemed to find myself in.

His face was so near to me now, that I could see each individual freckle on his nose, and I took notice of his soft, pink lips. His breath was warm, and our eyes seemed to be fixed on one another. "Hmm?" He let out, it was obvious he was waiting for an answer. He kept his smile, his lips parting ever so slightly. He got so close, I could swear I felt electricity running through my body. "Say it." He whispered, his voice sounding husky. "Tell me." I felt his breath on my lips.

Any hesitation within me had seemed to disappear, I couldn't take this any longer. I reached for the back of his neck, and pulled him in to kiss me. He seemed to be taken by surprise, but he quickly gave in. He put his hand on my lower back, pulling me deeper into the kiss, while keeping his other hand still holding the edge of the table. We seemed to keep this position for what seemed like an eternity. A constant and passionate stream of kisses between us, the moment growing more intense as our hearts began to beat faster and faster.

He slowly pulled his mouth away, both of us breathing heavily to catch a breath. His lips parted as he whispered, "I knew it."

"Guess I didn't have to use that potion after all, did I?" I giggled.

"Oh Y/N, come here." he growled, pulling me into him for more.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x mc #fluff #sebastian asllow imagine #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts

162 notes · View notes

honey-beann · 6 months

Text

I'd Burn Every Soul I Knew (If I Thought the Fire Was Warming You)

rk boys (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader

Chapter "One" - In Medias Res

Word Count: 3,169

Welcome to the first part of my new series, the title of which is listed above (and is also a quote from an unreleased Hozier song lol).

This series will be all three rks x reader, except unlike a normal series, we'll be starting things off randomly from the middle! As the series goes on, we'll go both backward and forward in time to give exposition and make sure there's clarification in various parts! I'm super excited for this, since I've never done anything like it before, and I hope you all enjoy!

Note: For some initial context, know that the boys were never detective androids in this universe, but were rather created for another purpose entirely :)

"We shouldn't leave her alone right now, but she needs to get cleaned off and warmed up, so do you want to stay out here with her, or go draw a bath?"

You could hear Connor's voice distantly, as if he were underwater or several rooms away, and the thought made you scowl, the idea of being any closer to alone than you already were instantly causing your anxiety to spike.

Damn, you really had gotten too used to having them all around.

In front of you, you could scarcely see a thing despite your eyes being open, your vision unfocused and blurry as you tried not to look too closely at either of the men in front of you. You had no interest in taking note of just how blue their usually white shirts were the way you had on the car ride back to your apartment.

"A bath? Have you been paying any attention to her since we got back? She's half delirious, you're basically asking her to pass out and drown in there if she takes one now."

Sixty's voice sounded even further away than Connor's, and you buried your head in your hands at the sound, a persistent and gnawing reminder of the one voice you hadn't heard.

"She needs a bath, Sixty. Put her in a shower and she could end up falling over, which is a far more likely outcome with her in the state she is now."

You heard Sixty scoff in response before footsteps that you felt more than you heard faded away as he presumably made his way towards the bathroom.

Connor on the other hand, walked towards you so gently that you scarcely would have noticed him if it weren't for the way he said your name, quietly and with caution, as if afraid you would shatter at the sound.

You shook your head indignantly, not wanting to look up and see all of the blue blood that had gotten on him earlier, desperate to escape to a reality where none of this was happening.

Connor sighed, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder as he spoke,

"I changed already, you don't have to hide."

He murmured, his tone ever so slightly amused but mostly just cajoling as he tried to persuade you to see the truth of his words for yourself.

Slowly, as if the speed of your actions might change the outcome, you lowered your hands from your face, slowly allowing your eyes to glance over the room a few times before finally coming to rest on Connor, who was giving you what you imagined was supposed to be a supportive smile, that just so happened to look much more like concern.

You sighed shakily, murmuring a gentle thanks in response to his thoughtfulness regarding his bloodied clothes. You hadn't expected to be so upset by them, but then again, you'd never expected to see them at all, much less on your androids, and far less from them.

It was a staggering experience to see that they truly weren't invincible. You wished you'd never had to find out at all. At least not the hard way, not like this.

Connor hummed in response to your soft words, reaching down wordlessly to tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling the white button up out of your dress slacks with ease before he raised a questioning brow, asking without words if he could keep going.

You nodded.

It would be far from the first time Connor had seen you mostly or even entirely naked, in fact, they all had at this point, having taken care of you for so long.

You were better now, less weathered by pain and illness thanks to their lingering support, but you couldn't help but almost wish the suffering back to take away the dull ache of fear and uncertainty in your chest.

You had only just finished questioning whether or not the constant discomfort would truly have been worth it when you realized that Connor had removed all but your undergarments from you, folding your stained clothes over his forearm before he took a silent step towards the laundry room just down the hall.

"Don't."

You said, your voice quiet but stern, causing the android in question to halt all movement almost instantly. He turned to face you soon after, his head tilted slightly but his expression one of patience, as if he were willing to wait all day to find out what you were thinking.

You sighed shakily,

"I want you to burn them."

You said, watching as Connor's brow rose before he looked down to the clothing in his hand, clearly not understanding.

You elaborated.

"I don't want to see them again, I couldn't bear to be reminded of..."

You trailed off, but Connor took the opportunity to nod in understanding regardless, placing the clothes on a nearby breakfast bar stool before he approached once more.

"Okay, if that's what you want then I can do it while you're resting later in the evening."

He reasoned, not giving you any time to argue about details before he switched topics entirely.

"Sixty just notified me that your bath is ready. Is there anything you want to bring in with you?"

He asked gently, and you shook your head, far too eager to have the remnants of today washed from your body to care about your comfort.

When you entered the bathroom, Sixty was waiting for you, his hand skimming across the top of the water as he checked the temperature to make sure it was the way you liked it.

"It should be between 99 and 102."

Connor stated matter of factly, causing Sixty to hum dismissively in response.

"I know."

His gaze shifted up from the water's surface to where you were standing.

"Any better?"

He asked, his words brief but their meaning heavy, as per usual when it came to him.

You shook your head silently in response, reaching your hands backward to unclasp your bra as you did so.

Suddenly, without warning, Connor's LED lit up a bright yellow, and he straightened up a bit, brow raised, before making eye contact with Sixty, his tone calm despite how obviously little he enjoyed saying what he was about to say.

"They want someone to come down and answer some questions about Nines. Can you stay with her?"

Sixty seemed to falter for a moment, hand no longer skimming the top of the water as he contemplated the meaning behind what Connor was saying.

If he was considering leaving you here with him alone, than the situation was likely dire enough for it to be worth soothing their emotional human companion.

He nodded.

"Where else would I go?"

This reaction immediately caused Connor to shake his head in response.

"No, I don't just mean at the house, I mean here in the bathroom with her. She has some bruising on her ribs that I didn't notice earlier, so she shouldn't be left alone in the tub."

Sixty's gaze shot over to you, scanning your body for signs of injury until they landed on your left rib cage, where they lingered for quite a few moments before he finally nodded again.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. Just don't let Nines find out or he'll blow a fuse."

The joke was in poor taste, but Connor did little more than roll his eyes in response before his focused returned to you, his hand reaching over to unclasp your bra for you before you could find your way back to earth after hearing that Nines was bad enough for the medical staff to need some questions answered.

Still, out of little more than habit, you shrugged the garment off of your shoulders before shimmying out of your underwear, stepping over them afterward with a blank expression as you worked persistently to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror.

Connor noticed this, and shot a glance towards his successor before he nodded to the both of you in farewell.

"I'll be back soon. If you don't hear from me for a few hours, assume everything is alright. I will keep you updated on the important things."

He promised, reaching over to offer a hand for you to hold as you stepped into the tub before finally letting go a few moments after you were sat down, his eyes trained on yours as he did his best to convey that everything was going to be alright with his actions alone.

It did little to quell the growing anxiety in your heart, but you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Sixty reached forward to turn the water on once more, filling the tub further now that you were inside of it in order to ensure it was at the perfect temperature for you in the moment.

Connor and Nines rarely let you choose things like this, since the warmer the water the higher the chance of you feeling faint afterward, but Sixty was always far more concerned with your comfort the very second you were experiencing it than he was the future. From his perspective, he could fix whatever issues your body threw at you as long as you actually bothered to tell him what they were.

In fact, in his eyes, it would be worth it to rend his artificial skin from his artificial bone just to ease the unwavering pain in your eyes.

Just to make you smile.

Whether or not he really knew that he felt that way, was an entirely separate issue.

And the only one he was truly concerned with, was whether or not you did.

That, and the way your eyes stayed fixated on the now slightly blue tinted water that you had sunk your body into, afraid to look up and see your reflection staring back you, to see how the life giving vitality of another had changed it.

Sixty sighed at the sight of your obvious struggle, knowing all too well the feeling of being unable to look at oneself in the mirror.

Or, to see yourself so physically in another who was so clearly superior.

He got up without a word, and, making a show of it so you knew what was about to happen, flicked the light switch off.

With that persistent glow from overhead gone, the only thing illuminating the room was his LED, which made it nearly impossible for you to know whether the blue in the water was the light, or the blood of a loved one.

"Can you get in with me?"

You voice rang out so suddenly and with so little warning that Sixty paused as he stood near the closed doorway, his mind searching for an easy answer that would not come.

He was not usually the one you went to for comfort, Connor knew your heart best, Nines your mind, and that had left Sixty with your body, and he had learned to understand that with as little physical interaction as possible.

The sight of his hands resting upon your skin unsettled him, as did the way you trusted him so easily, as if you weren't so readily aware that he had been built for violence, brutality in the cases where it became necessary to protect you from some unknown evil that you had grown to fear but never to name.

It confused him, how comfortable you were with hands that had maimed and killed so many and gently touched so few.

Confused him, and left him wishing he were capable of holding you the way that the others were. So gentle, not for fear of harm but rather to convey a message of understanding, of comprehension far beyond what Sixty worried he could manage.

Built to look so similar, it was a shame to be so different.

He wordlessly got into the tub behind you, watching and undressing on approach as you scooted forward silently, the water sloshing around your fragile form as you made room for his threatening presence in that way no one else ever did, or he imaged ever would.

You knew his intentions regardless of his still mouth and tensed hands, always so good at seeing, so good at understanding.

Blessed be the hands you touched your monsters with, blessed be the eyes you saw them through.

If he could make them permanent fixtures on this earth he would, but instead he knows he'll simply have to shed his own consciousness the very moment you do the same.

Loyal brute, loyal fool, loyal follower, anything if he is yours.

Everything if he is yours.

He settled in behind you so easily that it almost felt like he belonged there, a thought so foreign that it did not even register until long afterward, while he was watching your hair dry by the smoldering flame of the tinder you had provided Connor with earlier.

The air had smelt of thirium when he realized it, burning gore and rose shampoo, which came from where you stood beside him.

He had thought of the petals of the flower as he stoked the flames rising off of your still burning shirt, thinking of the way that they all folded together so perfectly, so completely, that he could surely be nothing more than the thorn on your stem.

But then he had thought of the bath tub, and the way that your back had felt slotted against his chest as the warm water lapped at his synthetic skin, and how your hands had felt on his arms as you used them to keep yourself from slipping slightly on the slippery porcelain while the water settled.

Even as a well fitted thing, he had still caused a disturbance. When did he not?

But the future was still unknown for the moment, so he did not think about these things as he settled into the water behind you, instead choosing to ask if you were comfortable, only to be met with silence when you simply nodded, head tilted back in what the android took as a request, a gentle invitation, to make sure it was clean.

Sixty ran a few gentle fingers through your hair, doing his best to de-tangle what he could without hurting you before he began to cup water into his palms, using it to cleanse your locks of any dried thirium that had begun to grow thick and clotted there, so ironically similar to blood for all that it was not.

When he was done with that, he found the bottle of shampoo that he liked the scent of best beside the tub, and massaged it into your scalp, being careful not to pull.

He truly did know your body best of all, no matter how frightened of it he was.

You leaned into his touch slowly, as if hesitant to do so, and he said nothing about any of it, choosing instead to warn you to close your eyes as he used his hands to gather water once more, rinsing your hair of anything that had remained stuck on after it's de-tangling earlier on.

Your body came next, and you stood for that part, shivering in the cool air as it came in contact with your warm body, allowing him to not only feel your frailty, but also see it even clearer than he already had.

It was remarkable how much power something so fragile had.

Once you had been thoroughly cleansed of any traces of the day, Sixty was cautious in turning the light on again, eyes trained on your reaction thoughtfully all the way up until he had you wrapped in a towel and leaving the bathroom entirely, bound for your small room of soft robes and a plush mattress, one he had picked out (with the help of his "siblings" of course. Nothing ever got past them otherwise).

Sixty's thought regarding his counterparts had him faltering slightly as he guided you over to the edge of your bed to sit you down as he searched for clothing comfortable enough for you to sleep in later that evening.

He had seen the exhaustion in your eyes, and if Connor had been here, he would be insisting that Sixty was keeping you awake for all of the teary tired present in your gaze, but the younger android knew better. He knew you would fight it off until Nines either walked through the door himself, or was carried through in a bag of miscellaneous parts by his predecessor.

Not wishing to dwell on that thought, he soon settled on a large t shirt you had bought him at a concert a few years prior. He hadn't particularly enjoyed the music, didn't even really know how to back them, but you had seen him looking at it and bought it without a second thought.

So giving no matter how much was taken, he worried you might one day lose yourself to the pull of selflessness.

A selfish concern to be sure, how ironic.

Helping you get dressed with particular care being given to your bruised rib cage, Sixty was sure to scan your vitals multiple times throughout the process, always convincing himself that it was more for Connor, who could see the live data, than it was for him.

He was a liar, but he didn't need to admit that to himself, much less to the world.

Once you were finally comfortable and ready to relax for the evening, Sixty silently followed you out into the living area, setting you up with your favorite blanket on the couch (despite pretending to be surprised when you mentioned to him that it was your favorite when he laid it over top of your still vaguely shivering form) before he tried to think of something you could eat.

He had just come up with a few ideas to present to you when he noticed your shoulders shaking as your head rested heavily in your hands, and without a sound, he approached, sitting down beside you.

He let you cry for a little longer after that, so unused to comforting you in favor of his counterparts that he was rather unsure of what to say until finally, he simply said the only thing that came to mind.

"He's going to be okay. None of us are ever going to leave you, not as long as you need us."

His tone was firm and far less compassionate than the one Connor or even Nines may have used, but it must have done the trick, because you looked up at him weepily soon after, eyes wet and hands shaking as you took a deep and unsure breath.

"So you'll always be here?"

You all but wheezed, so desperate for comfort that the straining in your lungs was nothing if it meant receiving reassurance from someone.

Sixty responded without hesitance, his tone deadly serious as he spoke,

"We are yours. We won't leave unless you ask us to."

Connor called about Nines exactly 9.86 seconds later.

masterlist

AO3

#dbh x reader series #dbh connor x reader #dbh nines x reader #dbh sixty x reader #rk900 x reader #dbh x reader #s: I'd Burn Every Soul I Knew (If I Thought the Fire Was Warming You)#dbh series 0 cop edition

57 notes · View notes