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[lilidawnonthemoon]

[merakiessentials]

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[janshealth]

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[heartless-tate]

Notice Me! | Part two | Azriel X Freader

Azriel x Freader | Part one

Summary: Azriel courting oblivi reader

a/n; Heyy! This is the last part guys! Hope you enjoy 🤗 also I really recommend looking up the meaning of the flowers after you read. 💕

content/trigger warnings; food, cussing, kissing, one or two use y/n, no smut BUT some lust and hints to masturbation, Azriel pining, Cassian being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, rain mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it!💗

You are in a warm bath, infused with the scent of essential oils, a perfect remedy to the grime from your training. You shake the thought out of your head, cursing yourself. Azriel didn’t like you like that. Cassian kisses Feyre on the cheek all the time, so why did it mean anything different if he kissed you? It didn’t mean anything different. But still, ever since he had left for his mission you found yourself running your fingers over your cheek.

It felt as though your skin was ablaze, heat gathering in your thighs. You abruptly reached towards them, water splashing. Halting yourself, you felt a surge of guilt and shame. If Azriel knew what you were thinking, he'd avoid your gaze forever. The thought made you feel sick. You groaned aloud, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You longed for him, missed his enticing cooking and physique. No, just his cooking. You chastised yourself again. Bad thoughts!

Goosebumps arose on your skin. The water had become ice cold. You rose from the water, letting the air chill your skin. Your nipples hardened, and you wondered if it was from your imagination or the cold air. You quickly leaped from the tub, landing on the mat. You wrapped your towel around your body after drying your wet hair.

Your bare feet padded against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom, letting the house magic take care of the leftover water. Your room felt warmer upon entering, soothing you. The room smelt like musk and bourbon. Like Azriel almost. You shivered with delight, stepping to your vanity. You reached for your hair brush, looking into the mirror only to be met with horror.

You yelped in shock, turning to face the shadowsinger. He sat on your bed, holding one of your books. His wings were spread lazily on your covers. He huffed a laugh at your reaction, grinning. “That’s certainly not the welcoming I was expecting.” He concurred smugly.

“Azriel..” You muttered. He was early. And you hadn’t expected him to be here. “How long have you been back?” you asked. He smiled.

“I’ve been here for fifteen minutes waiting for you to get out of,” he paused, his eyes trailing down to your body, “your bath..”

You felt your face heat, suddenly realizing you wore nothing but a small towel. Your body was glistening wet. He looked you back in the eyes with a small smirk.

“Oh cauldron!” You squeaked, wrapping your arms around your body more tightly. He laughed, heartily. Azriel shook his head before standing. He laid your book down and with embarrassment you realized it was one of your more smuttier books. And by that you mean it was pure porn. There was nothing more embarrassing about this situation. He smirked at you again, before taking a few steps towards you. You notice there are fresh flowers on your nightstand now. It was a bouquet of red and pink flowers you hadn't seen before. You’d have to look them up in your flower guide.

“I have a training session where I plan on beating Cas’s ass, but I wanted to see you first. We’ll have lunch in around two hours, okay?” He demanded gently. You nodded shyly, unable to think of a coherent response. He smiled, pleased. He walked forward, and you hoped he would kiss you again. Just not on the cheek. But alas, he pulled you in a hug, his warm muscly body a hard contrast to your cold one. Your right hand held your towel in place, while your left wrapped around him. He shivered, and you figured it was due to your wet hair?

Azriel let go quickly and abruptly and you wondered if you did something wrong. He smiled tightly. “See you in two hours, love.” He whispered affectionately before turning and taking flight from your balcony.

He left you standing there, wet all over, confused, warm, and also shivering. You still couldn’t wrap your head around this feeling you had.

After you changed into a tank top and shorts you approached the flowers on your nightstand. They were gorgeous. You bit your lip as you grabbed a flower guide book, ready to find what type of flowers they were.

They were pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums.

A beautiful sandwich filled with all your favorite toppings, sat in front of you. Courtesy to Azriel. You sighed, wondering if you’d ever be as good as a cook Azriel was. It was truly a hidden talent of his. There wasn’t something he couldn’t fix.

A warm leathery wing brushed on your bare shoulder as he passed by. He sat his food down beside yours before pulling out a chair and setting it directly by yours. It was now lunch time. Both Cassian and Azriel were sweaty muscly messes. Their skin glistened with pure sweat. And you wondered how Azriel still managed to smell like a god still. After you left your room, you spent some time enjoying the morning breeze and relaxing. When it came time for lunch, you walked to the dining area. Azriel was waiting for you in the kitchen where he made your sandwich and a drink for you. Every detail of it was to your liking.

Cassian, of course, stood in the corner complaining about Azriel never fixing him sandwiches. Azriel had knocked him in the face with his wing, shutting him up. Cassian stayed in the kitchen, munching on some snacks. He feigned not paying attention to you nor Azriel.

Both of your chairs were back less, as to accommodate for wings. Sure, your skin felt a little chilly in the air due to your tank top. But Azriel’s wing, warm from training in the sun, stayed on your back. It was comforting. Like a blanket that's been sitting by a cozy fireplace.

Azriel pushed the plate towards you again, motioning for you to start eating. When you started, and he was sure you were satisfied with the taste, he started eating his too. And, of course, everything tasted perfect. When you both finished, the house took care of the plates. Cassian and Nesta had joined at the other end of the table, talking to each other as they ate. You caught yourself admiring them- the love they had. That you felt you would never have. They bickered, sure. But they were so in love. You couldn’t help but envy them. If only a guy loved you like that.

Your thoughts broke when Azriel started talking. He had a soft smile as he told you of his mission. Apparently the queens were doing okay and hadn’t been stirring up trouble, so he was able to leave early.

“You didn’t starve while I was away did you? Next time I’ll drag you with me so I can actually focus on my mission.” He muttered running his hands through his hair. Azriel always spoke softly unless angry. Or at least you had never heard him get loud. You didn’t catch Cassian and Nesta smirking at you both. Nesta couldn’t help but snort to herself. You were so oblivious. You didn’t even seem to notice Azriel only ran his mouth like this when around you. He seemed so open with you and comfortable.

“Of course I didn’t starve- wait, why couldn’t you focus on your mission?” You inquired, confused.

“Ah- No reason, dear.” He responded. His pet name went over your head. Azriel bit his lower lip, staring at you with intent eyes. He couldn’t help but feel amused by your blatant obliviousness. Your eyes went to where Cassian sat across from you with his eyes closed, kissing and smacking his lips, like he was making out with the air. Your eyebrows furrowed at the weirdness until he stopped and pointed at Azriel, then you. Nesta slapped him and he realized he had been caught. You were about to question his weird antics before a wing blocked your sight towards them.

You turned to where Azriel had gotten closer. He used his wing to make sure ALL of your attention was on him.“I have to go meet with Rhys soon. But when I get back, we need to talk.” He said sternly. His eyes were hardened and your face dropped. Did you do something wrong? He noticed the look and smiled softly to reassure you.

“Wait for me here?” He asked. And you nodded, still nervous. Your hands came together to fiddle awkwardly but Azriel’s hands laid on top of yours. He lifted your hands and kissed the top of both of them. You blushed at the intimacy. He lifted his head, and ran a hand through his hair.

He stood, still holding your hand with one of his. The room had gone quiet. Like it was just you and him. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You felt the heat and softness of his lips as they pressed to your head. Your bottom lip quivered as you looked shyly to the floor. What was happening? You didn’t even know anymore. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours anymore.

He stood and winked at you playfully before heading to the balcony and once again spreading those giant wings and shooting into the air. You sighed to yourself before realizing that Cassian and Nesta were both staring at you. Cassian sighed and looked to Nesta.

“I’ll bet you 80 gold coins-“ he started, but Nesta slapped a hand on his mouth so he couldn’t finish. She smiled at you before grabbing Cassian and leaving you alone in the room, deep in your thoughts.

Rhysand’s office was warmer then the rest of his house today. Azriel was filling him in on his recent mission. And to his distaste, that meant he had to be away from you. He didn't care that he’d be back within a few hours, he had already suffered during his mission. Being away from you- not being able to smell you on his clothes anymore, distressed him more then he cared to admit. He remembers worrying if you had ate, or if you forgot to eat again. His wings bristled at the memory. Upon coming back to you, he couldn't be bothered to care you had just got out of the bath. He thanked the Mother for blessing him with such good timing. You were so god damn beautiful, and if that towel had dropped- Azriel wouldn’t have left that room for a good fucking long while.

He had been too excited to even care that you were wet and only in a towel, he just had to hug you. But he didn't expect to feel his cock stiffen. He couldn’t help it, your body in his arms felt so good. You were so fucking pretty, it hurt. Azriel was embarrassed that he lost control of his own body. He planned on holding you for longer, but when your hand wrapped around his back, it brushed that sensitive part of his wing, sending a jolt to his dick. He had to rip away before you felt the growing hardness in his pants, and he felt so bad seeing your face of confusion. You hadn’t meant too. And you looked so hurt and you didn't even know what your had done. He cursed his body hating his lack of control, but didn't want you to think he was a creep so he left early to take care of himself.

“Az? Are you listening?”

Azriel snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to where his brother sat. Rhysand sighed and shook his head before repeating himself.

“I was asking if you could run to Velaris and pick up some medicine from Madja? Feyre has been having some headaches.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed and he contemplated. Of course, he loved his high lady and didn’t want her to be in pain. But he wanted to get back to you fast. He needed your presence. Soon. Before he lost his mind. “Can’t you just winnow yourself? It’d be a lot faster then me having to fly.” He proposed.

Rhysand bristled slightly at Azriel’s slight coldness. He knew his brother, and knew he didn't mean it personally. Rhysand smirked. “Cassian warned me of this.”

“Warned you of what?” Azriel asked. ”He told me you get extremely pissy whenever you’ve been away from her for too long.” Rhysand spoke, with a knowing smile.

Azriel knew he was talking of you. His eyebrows furrowed and scowled at his brother before huffing. Before he could reply Rhys continued.

“It’s alright, we get it. Cas and I have both been through it with our mates.” Azriel didn’t respond this time. He shook his head with a slight growl. How come everyone could see his affection for you- but you? It was infuriating! He hoped maybe kissing your cheek would make you magically realize he had loved you, but it didn’t. Cauldron! How much more obvious does he need to make it?

Rhys dismissed him with his signature smirk, the all knowing bastard too smug for Azriel’s liking tonight.

Azriel wasn’t back yet. And the sun had already set, leaving it dark outside. You wondered what was taking him so long to tell Rhys of his mission. In reality you were more worried of what he wanted to talk about. You currently sat by the fireplace in your room, letting the heat warm your body. You had left the balcony doors open, assuming Azriel would fly through there.

You had two candles burning, and a book open in your hands. The sound of pitter patter against the marble floors distracted you from your book. You turned your head to the balcony doors and sighed, seeing it was raining. the water was getting on your floor. You grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and wiped the water from the floor. You closed the door to the balcony, but leaving it unlocked for him.

You turned around, noticing the flowers. You smiled joyfully. It was nice always having a pair of fresh flowers, thanks to Azriel.

“Pay more attention.”

You remembered Mor’s words. What were you suppose to pay attention to? You had already dissected every single memory you had of Azriel, but you coulnd’t find anything in your mind that was out of the ordinary. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Nothing made sense anymore. You ran a hand through your hair, stressed.

You looked around the room before your eyes found the flowers again. You remembered Azriel giving you a book that had the meanings flowers last Starfall. Your eyes snapped to the floating bookshelf Azriel has installed in your room two years ago. You quickly approached it, running your fingers across the titles until you found the right one. You pulled the book out, grazing the cover with your fingertips.

You sat by the fireplace, flipping through until you found the flowers you were looking for.

A whooshing sound came from your balcony, prompting you to close the book and stand, walking to your nightstand and laying it down. You turned to the door of the balcony, watching it open. Azriel stepped in, hair wet from rain. Water dripped from his body onto your floor. He wanted slightly eyes latching onto yours. He held a small pink box that he had managed to keep dry. You briefly wondered what it was until he started to walk towards you. Determination was in his eyes as he walked fast, in front of you within seconds. He licked his lips, looking at your eyes.

Everything froze, and it was just you and him. Standing there. His eyes were dilated and filled with affection now. You didn’t notice him setting the box on your nightstand, never breaking eye contact. His eyes flicked down to your lips, before looking back up. You felt the tension in the room. His eyes seemed to glow more tonight. Brighter than the fire.

You looked back to where the flowers were and then back back to him.

“Why did you give me pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums?” You asked, you voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel cocked his head to the side, studying you. His shadows whirl around, some coming to play with your hair. The tendrils swirl gently around you.

“Why do you think I gave them to you?” He responded. His voice was roughed, but gentle. You looked away to the floor and shrugged, feeling shy under his unwavering stare.

“Answer me.”

You felt a hand on your chin, turning your face back to his. His thumb rubbed mindlessly at your jaw.

“I don’t know..” You replied. He was closer now, you could feel his breath against your face. It was minty and fresh.

“Fucking hell y/n.” He groaned, grabbing your hips and gently pushing you to sit on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of you, head bowed. He looked as if he was saying a prayer, his head bowed in your lap. His wings were draped across the floor, and he was muttering something to himself. He held your knees, and when he looked back up to you his eyes were teary.

“Azriel-“ you started, only for him to cut you off.

“What am I doing wrong? Have I not made it painfully clear? I would tie my wings behind my back and jump off this roof if you asked me too. I would do anything,” He sniffled, “anything for you. But you don’t even realize. What am I doing wrong?” You saw tears beginning to form in his eyes. Confusion filled every ounce of your soul. What did he mean?

“I would jump off for you too-“

“No! You don’t get it!” He rose, cupping your face with his hands. A pleading look was in his eyes. “Look at me! Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel it here?” His hand came to lay where your heart would be. Your felt it beating crazily. What did he mean?

Azriel closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. He opened them again.

“Just notice it y/n. Notice it- Notice me. Please..” he whispered. You wanted to scream you loved him suddenly, but he probably doesn’t mean this like that. This is probably some dumb prank he and his brothers came up with again.

His forehead rested against yours now, and you gasped as you felt something tugging on your heart. Like gold threads weaving together. It felt as if someone had tied Azriel to you. Shadows whirled crazily around you both now. Your hand came to rest over his trying to decipher this feeling in your heart. His eyes peered into yours. And he closed them as he moved his head and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, even if you don’t return it.” He croaked, defeatedly. His eyes opened and watched you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your chest and then back to him.

He let out a grunt of surprise when you smashed your lips against his. Azriel wondered if this was real. Staying still, as if not to scare you away. When he realized it was real- and you were kissing him he melted. He kissed you back gently and meaningful. It was everything you had ever wanted you realized. Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? You could’ve been kissing this muscly man a lot sooner. Only did you detach yourself when you needed air. Both of your foreheads touched, and you both panted for air.

“Mate.” You whispered to him. He smiled, thanking the mother you had finally felt the bond. He nodded in response.

“Mate.” He replied. He nudged you back against the sheets, gently letting your body plop on the bed.

“But I have loved you long before I found out we were mates.” He muttered, his wings flaring slightly. He climbed on top of you, straddling your hips.

You nodded. “I loved you too- but I just thought that, I wasn’t the girl you’d ever wanna be with.”

“I’ve fucking craved you ever since I met you. And that won’t stop, ever. I swear, you’re the most oblivious girl I’ve ever met.” He said. His eyes weren’t wet anymore. It calmed you, seeing him calmer. The shadows were slowly and lazily playing with your hair again. You peered into Azriel’s eyes and thought back to every single memory you and him had, and realized it was all love. You were too oblivious to realize it. He slowly leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, wings covering you both. You kissed him back with a fever you couldn’t stop anymore.

After a few minutes, he crawled off of you and stood. You rose, propping yourself up. He handed you the pink box.

“I stopped by your favorite bakery and got you a cupcake.” Azriel spoke. The cupcake inside was big- almost two times bigger then your hand. And it was your favorite flavor. Your eyes softened at the kindness. You looked back up to him as you lifted the cupcake towards him.

“Eat Azriel.” You whispered. His eyes darkened upon realizing you wanted to solidify the mating bond- and confirm it. He shivered but stopped himself.

“You sure you don’t want a mating ceremony-“

“Eat the fucking cupcake Azriel.”

Tag list:

@going-through-shit @amara-moonlight

@tele86 @saltedcoffeescotch @minnieoo

@fxckmiup @charlotteintumbleland

@amygdtjhddzvb

[luvsupa]

thinking of sukuna with long hair that was always kept neatly done by you. he always had you, his wife, take care of his luscious locks, convinced that your hands held a special magic—each stroke a soothing spell that kept his hair fresh and hydrated. you step into your shared estate after being busy the entire day as you saw him in the pool. the warm steam from the pool enveloped the room like a comforting embrace. sukuna lounges in the steaming pool, his long, beautiful pink hair cascading like a shimmering waterfall around him.

“my little dove, i’ve been missing you all day,” he purred, his voice low and inviting. water droplets glistened on his sculpted chest, accentuating his striking features. the damp strands of his hair, darker at the roots and slicked back, framed his face perfectly. you stood at the doorway, essential oils and combs in hand, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you admired his needy expression.

“i bet you have, handsome. i was busy helping the new children in the village,” you replied, stepping closer. with every movement, his gaze followed you, filled with admiration and longing. as you placed the hair products beside him, excitement sparked in his eyes. he loved how you cared for him; your touch alone could coax soft purrs from deep within him.

the bubbling water created a soothing backdrop as you opened the oils and cream, their fragrant scents filling the air. you gently gathered his long, silky hair, running your fingers through the soft strands, feeling their warmth against your skin. as you began brushing from the roots down to the ends, he leaned back into your touch, a needy moan escaping his lips.

“mmm, you’d be an amazing mother—how do two little brats sound?” he hummed, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the bliss of your magic hands. each stroke of the brush glided effortlessly through his hair, releasing the tension coiled in his body, while you worked your fingers through his locs with loving precision. his purring grew louder with every gentle tug, a deep rumble that reverberated in his chest, echoing his desire for more.

“i would love that suku,”your heart swelled with affection as you realized how deeply he cherished these moments. switching to the oils, you rose onto your knees, positioning yourself for a better angle. you began massaging the warm oil into his scalp, your fingers working in slow, deliberate circles. the moment your fingers made contact, he let out a low, needy purr that made your heart race.

“more,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing, eyes still closed as he leaned into your touch, craving your warmth. the soft sound of his neediness made you smile, fueling your desire to pamper him even more.

after thoroughly working the oils into his hair, you applied the moisturizing cream, your fingers gliding through his strands with expert care. he let out soft whines as you brushed through the final strands, and you could feel his reluctance to let go of this intimate connection.

“don’t stop,” he murmured, desperation creeping into his tone.

“keep playing with my hair until i sleep, my love.”

[arlertwhore]

pairing: sub!paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: when you massage your gf paige, you discover her knots aren't what shes having trouble getting out.

warning (s): sexual content, fingering, nipple play, mommy kink!

word count: 929.

author note: gotta request for sub paige, dug deep in them drafts for this beautiful baby here 😫 i love the "tough girl gets dissolved to nothing" trope UGHH so yummy.

A significant part of being an athlete, one of the best on the court, was managing her trained muscles. In your shared bedroom, Paige had various massage tools & items to help her soothe her aches; guns, rollers, and balms, but she couldn't ever kick the comfort of her loving girlfriend’s hands.

"Pleaseeee baby," she begged you in the washroom mirror, behind you as her hands rested on your hips, pressing you back into her. "Need you," she'd said, burying her head in the crook of your neck, and you subsequently melted because how on earth could you have possibly resisted her cute little pout and those pleading eyes when she was so cute like that?

Believing you weren’t strong enough to massage her toned body, hardened from relentless hours of training and practice before she came home, you discovered that your true weakness was resisting her tempting reactions.

As she undressed, revealing her muscular upper body with a back glistening and tense from intense training—one you’d seen many times before, even scratched up and marked—your first reaction was, "There's no way I can do this," as you took in the full extent of her exertion.

"Try," she encouraged, lying down on the bed, and with a deep sigh, you advanced and reminded yourself she’d owe you a favor after this, perhaps some head.

You began. With each pass of your hands over her back, her muscles—initially taut and unyielding—gradually softened under your fingertips. Every stroke elicited a soft gasp or a deep huff, and her breathing grew deeper and more relaxed as she completely surrendered to the sensations you implemented upon her.

The way the big bad athlete yielded so willingly to your touch only intensified the heat growing between your legs. If not so, then it'd be the soft sighs and subtle arching of her back that indicated that she was enjoying every moment of your touch.

Maybe a bit too much. She wasn’t usually like this. She wasn’t usually this submissive, always so strong and in control on the court, in the bedroom, and in her words, but now, she was the flip opposite—melting and whining under your touch, completely submitting.

You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling a pang of guilt. This shouldn’t have been turning you on. Coaxing whimpers and curses from her parted, puffy lips, the way she responded to your lovely touch, and how she clenched her muscles each time you kneaded them all contributed to your growing unease and simultaneous arousal.

Whether intentional or not, you couldn’t help but lean down and softly kiss the curve of her neck from behind, cushioning legs draped over each side of her body.

"Y're so good, baby... fuck, yeah... just like that," she whimpered smally, pressing her body closer, damn-near shivering.

"Shut up," you murmur against the rose-scented skin of her back, licking and nipping at it softly, "I feel that good, Paigey?"

"Yeah," she breathes out, her needy voice trembling with and of surrender. "Kiss me again. Please," she begs softly, pulling you back in by grasping your hair. Her touch is gentle yet insistent, guiding you to the curve of her neck where your lips had left a lingering warmth.

“Mhm,” she hummed in delight, nodding as you encircled her body, your soft hands tenderly enveloping her tits. "So warm and soft... those fingers, I can't," she whispered, shuddering as your oiled palms glided gently and teasingly over her nipples, essentially massaging them.

You lay down flat on her back, nipping at her lips and listening to her whine needily into your mouth as you sink your oiled fingers into her, met with no resistance due to how completely lost in the moment you both are and how wet she is. The oil makes the glide smoother, heightening the sensation, and she claws at your wrists a little with her thankfully trimmed nails, whispering, "Yeah, bae, yeah... love your fingers in me like that, mmh..." Her voice maintains its natural tone but becomes whiny, needy, and desperate, as if something has taken over her.

Her moans sound different. The way she pushes herself back against your fingers, clenching around them with each pop of her hips, is different.

You pull your fingers out of her and press them into her mouth, feeling her eagerly engulf them as she bobs her head in a hungry, slutty motion. You’re unsure who this person is right now, but one thing is clear: it’s undeniably hot.

When she finishes cleaning your fingers, you sink them back inside her and stroke deeply, tiring your wrist.

"You're a good girl," you whisper into her ear, and she bites her lip, moaning blissfully with her eyes rolling back into her head. "Think you're Mommy's good girl?" you ask gruffly, and she gasps, a desperate, shrill cry escaping from her stomach, where she can quite literally feel your fingers jamming into. You’re about to demand words from her for fucking her so well when you feel it trickle down your wrist and realize she’s come silently, on command, just from that gentle praise.

Too much of a "Mommy's good girl," it seems.

You snap back to your typical role, remembering how you’re usually the one in her place. You joke, "What happened to all that control?"

You pull your fingers out of her and pop them into your mouth, her eyes following your every move. "Just savoring the taste of how good for me you are," you explain.

She nods, clearly pleased. "Good. I was hoping you’d remember you’re still my little bitch." MASTERLIST AUTHOR NOTE #2: unfortunately, i've become worse at writing cheeky lil endings :( THANK GOODNESS I DON'T HAVE TO SINCE ITS A DRAFT 😛 guys idk if its inappropriate to be releasing stuff rn since q-diddy has arose so think of this as me lightinin the mood around here lmao i just need these drafts gone!!

[dustofthedailylife]

Thinking about Genshin men and taking a warm bubble bath with them.

With all the nice smelling essential oils, rose petals swimming in the water, a candlelit bathroom, and quiet music playing in the background. They gently wash your hair, massaging your scalp in circular motions, their chest pressed firmly against your back, and their arm gently snaked around your waist from behind. An occasional kiss is placed at your nape...

KAVEH, ZHONGLI, AYATO, ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, KAZUHA, DILUC, NEUVILLETTE

A/N: This thought came about because it's so cold here atm. Unfortunately, we don't have a bathtub at our current apartment *cries* - But just physical, non-explicit intimacy has me melting like candlewax in the sun 🫠 could it be any more obvious my love language is physical touch? SDIKFHSD- I need to write a fic like this.

[dreamgrlarchive]

High Maintenance 101

Prissy Girl Beauty Regimens 🎀

my prissy girl guide to beauty services and building a beauty lifestyle that fits you 💗

Skincare:

Essential Skincare Routine ❤︎︎

twice daily, in the morning and at night

daytime: gentle cleanser, toner, serum, eye cream, moisturizer, SPF

prep and protect skin

nighttime: double cleansing with oil and cleanser, exfoliation, treatments, moisturizer

wash away the day and help skin accept treatments and actives during your beauty sleep

products will change depending on skin type and goals, but sequence will more or less stay the same

Face Masks + Treatments ❤︎︎

Face Masks -

typically done at home 1-3x/week

clay, gel, mud, cream, liquid

my fav masks at home:

aha + bha liquid mask by the ordinary: a literal overhaul of my pores. it’s refining and helps reduce texture and hyperpigmentation. 1-2 x/week

korean modeling mask: i use this after doing everything in my routine. it’s super cooling and smooths my skin out. the low temp of the mask reduces flushing of my skin and helps the steps in my routine absorb better. 2-3 x/week

Treatments -

done either 1-3x/week and/or exclusively at night

consumer grade Retinols, AHAs, BHAs at high strength

little extra things i like to use to enhance my routine:

gua sha, ice pack, rose quartz roller, however often i choose

Facials ❤︎︎

done every 1-2 months by licensed estheticians

often includes exfoliation and extraction

Classic Facial: cleanse, extract, massage, moisturize

HydraFacials: extracts pores while infusing serums to boost skin’s vitamin and nutrient content

dry, dehydrated skin

Microdermabrasion: microabrasive tool removes outermost, textured, damaged layer of skin using suction to reveal a smooth and refined new layer of skin

sun damaged, aged, textured skin or skin with hyperpigmentation

Chemical Peel: application of medical grade AHA, BHA, Lactic Acid, Fruit Enzymes, or Retinol to peel away top layers of skin over the course of 1-2 weeks

pore refining, brightening, and anti-aging

after care is crucial. skin will be peeling and sensitivity to sun is increased. SPF MUST be used. it’s heavily advised that clients stay home for the first few days.

HydroJelly Facial: facial made of electrolytes, algae, organic white grain oat flour, rice flour, and white willow bark powder. leaving your skin hydrated, plump, and nourished. forms a vacuum-like seal that compresses facial contours.

there are 25 different hydrojelly pro masks for most skin concerns you may have, check here

More Facials ❤︎︎

Contouring Facial: sculpting, tightening, and lifting of facial muscles

LED Facial: uses LED light to soothe inflammation, aiding in acne healing and prevention

Vampire Facial: plumps skin and improves wrinkles by extracting blood, removing its platelets, then either re-injecting it into the skin or applying it topically

Diamond File Facial: finely ground diamonds resurface skin by filing to improve dark spots

Glass Skin Botox: multiple tiny botox injections just below the surface of the skin. alleviate fine lines, redness, texture, and more achieving glass skin

AquaGold Facial: microinjections that combine vampire facial methods, hyaluronic acid, botox, stem cells, antioxidants, vitamins, peptides, etc. improves fine lines, wrinkles, pores, pigmentation, acne scarring, dryness, tone, texture, skin elasticity, and more

cite

Hair:

Hair Care ❤︎︎

Wash Routines:

curly textured: wash and condition every 2-3 weeks, deep condition every 1-2 weeks

straight: wash and condition every 2-3 days, deep condition every 2-3 weeks

Styling ︎❤︎︎

Hair should have a style everyday! At home hairstyling is limitless and really depends on your taste and lifestyle. The everyday woman does her own her once every 1-4 weeks using natural hair products, heat, or other tools.

Professional Stylists:

hair is styled every 1-3 months: uses heat to straighten or curl, extensions to lengthen and add volume, shears to maintain/attain a shape and length

trim ends: every 6-8 weeks

hair color: touched up roughly every 6-8 weeks (depending on how fast your hair is growing and how fast your color will fade)

Silk Press:

after a clarifying wash and deep conditioning, natural hair is straightened using flat iron and/or pressing comb, then usually curled in feathers or pin curls to preserve the style

lasts 3-4 weeks depending on maintenance

preserved by wrapping hair at night, keep hands out of hair, and using a wide toothed comb only

can be further styled with different kind of rollers, or with pin curls

Braids:

afrocentric hairstyles typically done to protect hair while maintaining beauty

lasts 3-8 weeks

styles include knotless braids, faux locs, stitch braids, french braids, etc

Extensions:

hair added to natural hair to enhance length or volume

can be done at home with patience and proper materials

sew-in extensions: (my personal fav) 1-2 months

your natural hair gets braided down flush to your scalp and the bundles are sewn on by the wefts in a flat pattern typically with a section of hair left out to cover the wefts $100-600

microlinks: up to 4 months

i-tip extension is added to hair using micropliers, clippers and loop tool. takes far longer than most extension methods but looks the absolute most natural $500-1000

tape-in extensions: up to a year, touch ups every 4-6 weeks

medical grade tape is used to attach extensions to small sections of hair $200-400

clip-in extensions: 3-6 months

extensions are clipped on by the wefts. the hair itself can last up to six months, but it’s not recommended to sleep, shower, or swim with the extensions in $50-100

Natural Styles:

all last roughly 1-2 weeks at most. allowing hair to completely DRY is crucial for these styles. your natural hair can be further changed in styles like buns, puffs, etc once dry

natural hair essentials: scalp oil, leave in conditioner, detangling brush, wide tooth comb, curling cream, styling gel, edge control and edge brush

wash n’ go

wash and detangle, then use leave in conditioner to keep hair moist. oil on the scalp and ends is recommended for growth and healthy ends

bantu knots

a traditionally african style where the hair is cleanly sectioned (usually parted in a cute pattern) and twisted into knots. style can be worn just like this or taken down for curls

braid/twist out

a specific pattern of curls is achieved after hair is twisted or braided with curl preserving products. end result depends on how big your twists or braids are

roller set

hair is sprayed with water and curl cream applied before roller of your choice is added. hair is left to dry usually overnight for springy well formed curls

Brows and Lashes:

Brow Shaping ❤︎︎

in salon or at home

Waxing - every 3 weeks

Threading- every 2-3 weeks

Razor Shaping - weekly

Brow Enhancement ❤︎︎

Tinting - monthly

can be done at home or by pro in the salon

Microblading - every 1-3 years + annual touch ups, exclusively professional work

cosmetic tattooing using a manual tool with nearly invisible hair-like needles to inject pigment in brows to create your desired brow look

Lash Enhancements ❤︎︎

*done exclusively by professionals

Lifts - every 6 weeks

basically a perm for your lashes to curl them semi-permanently for lashes to appear longer

Lash Extensions - new set every 6-8 weeks, fill ins every 2-3 weeks depending on quality and style

false individual strands of lashes glued to natural lashes to create semi-permanent length and/or volume

lash baths: wet lashes and apply a small amount of gentle cleanser or a “lash bath” to lashes. cleanse lashes and eyelids for about 10 seconds. hold a towel under your eye and use a nozzle bottle to flush soap and bacteria from lashes then dry with a disposable lint free towel. finish by brushing your lashes with a spoolie. daily.

Lash Styles:

Classic: one lash on each fan, thin lashes

Volume: fluffier lashes with more lashes on each fan

Hybrid: uses classic and volume lashes to make an alternated look

Russian: volume lashes made with very thin individuals, 5-6 extensions per natural lash, fanned out look

DIY Lash Extensions - lasts about a week (sometimes longer)

lash fragments or individual wisps are glued either under the lashes or on the lash line. KISS Falscara is a product that makes this concept simple and easy

Nails:

all these services can be done at home with the proper materials and KNOWLEDGE

Classic Manicure ❤︎︎

every 1-2 weeks

nail service that consists of soaking hands in warm soapy water then drying them. nails are trimmed, filed, and buffed. cuticles are pushed back before applying nail polish (base coat, color, top coat), then finally cuticle oil is applied.

nails can be enhanced with rhinestones, glitter, or charms and attached with uv gel or nail glue

my fav styles are pink, cream, white, black and any french tip using those colors

Pedicure ❤︎︎

every 2-4 weeks

sister to the classic manicure, but can be upgraded depending on materials. steps are similar to manicure, except feet are scrubbed and exfoliated before feet are washed and dried to apply nail color

regular polish, acrylic, or gel can be used on toenails

Gel or Shellac Mani ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks

same process as the classic manicure, but traditional nail polish is replaced with uv base coat, gel or CND Shellac polish, then uv top coat that’s cured in a UV or LED lamp

longer lasting and more strong/3d than classic mani and is typically removed by soaking in acetone

Apres Gel-X Nails ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks

my personal fav at home nails using the artme yoko matsuda nails. after doing a classic mani sans polish, you apply a dehydrator and primer to prep nail for gel. then you apply builder gel to your natural nail and cure. then you apply that same builder to the nail extension after etching it using an electric drill or acetone. marry the gel to your nail and cure. then just shape to your liking and top with uv top coat. tutorial here

Acrylic Nails ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks, nails are fully grown out after 6 weeks

manicure done with liquid monomer and acrylic powder to build and extend natural nail, then polished with color or just a top coat if desired

Russian Mani ❤︎︎

every 4-5 weeks

essentially a gel manicure, but more invasive. the eponychium is snipped away so polish can be applied more closely and flush to the cuticle. this aids in visuals and longevity

service is seen as risky because the skin is more susceptible to fungal or bacterial infection. this is actually how i do my nails at home.

Body:

Bathing ❤︎︎

2x daily

self explanatory, we all know how to bathe. i have other posts that talk about my shower and bath routines.

use a gentle cleanser then a scented body wash to complement perfume and smell fresh all day.

if needed, you can use body soaps with actives like aha, bha or retinol to exfoliate or treat skin at night

exfoliation - 2-3x/week. using scrubs, loofahs, bath brushes, etc.

Hair Removal ❤︎︎

shaving - 2-3x/week

waxing - every 3-5 weeks

sugaring - monthly

ipl device - a device that uses light therapy to slowly destroy hair follicles and unwanted pigment in skin. i use mine after every 5-6 shaves but i could really use it more often.

Vajacial ❤︎︎

1-2x/month

a “facial” for your lady area

the esthetician will first wax, then cleanse and apply an enzyme exfoliant. then they extract any blackheads or ingrown hairs from the area before applying a soothing mask usually in the jelly form.

Moisture and Hydration ❤︎︎

body cream or lotion - daily right after bathing to hydrate skin

body oil - daily to seal in moisture and protect skin from debris and dryness

masks - weekly to address particular skin concerns

ex. when i was having eczema flare ups on my back, i used a dead sea mud mask every 1-2 weeks to help treat it

done at home or at spa

glycolic, clay, mud, salicylic, etc.

Enhancement Procedures:

the goal is to look younger and balance facial features. all these services are exclusively done by professionals usually in a medspa and are widely considered luxury.

Botox ❤︎︎

every 6-8 months; between brows, smile lines, outer corners of eyes, etc

discourages muscle movement to reduce wrinkles

Lifts ❤︎︎

lasts about 10 years; face, neck, brow, eyelids

skin is lifted to desired look, then excess skin is removed

Fillers ︎❤︎︎

every 6-12 months; under-eye, lips, jawline, wrinkle sites, cheekbones

injects acids (usually naturally occurring) like Hyaluronic Acid and Calcium Hydroxylapatite to add volume to your face

Body Contouring ❤︎︎

every 2-4 months until desired results are achieved

non invasive liposuction to achieve desired physique

CoolSculpting - cryolipolysis freezes fat cells for the body to the metabolize and and remove them

SculpSure - essentially the same as CoolSculpting, but uses heat and laser technology to destroy fat cells

Laser Hair Removal ❤︎︎

every 5-6 weeks; bikini, underarms, legs, arms

touch ups done every 1-2 years

hair growth is inhibited by exposing follicles to light at frequencies that kill them

Building the Regimen 🗒️💕:

when making appointments with your “glam squad” you can stagger your services by week depending on what’s being done. for example you can get your mani and pedi done one week. then your facials, brows and lashes another week.

Things to Keep in Mind 💭💞:

these frequencies won’t be the same for everyone depending on personal wants, budgets, etc. but will most likely land somewhere in the ranges i gave. if you need touch ups or redos any sooner than i mapped out, then the service most likely was of poor quality.

anything done at home may or may not be up to the level of detail and longevity as salon or spa work. if you see yourself doing the majority of your beauty maintenance at home, this can save money but may end up taking more time than professional services. so it’s a give and take.

More Resources:

manage your routines, services and products using a beauty binder

a look at my skincare routine

at home beauty treatments for the summer

my hair care routine at home

pretty on purpose by @shefromhouston

monthly beauty routine by @angeljpg

dream girl routines by me

[mncxbe]

pls pls pls can i pls ask for a part 3 of taking a bath with them ??? maybe with fyodor nikolai and sigma ??? i LOVED the other two parts you made , they are amazing !

TYSM I'm so happy to hear that and yes of course I'll make a DoA part. I romanticized Fyodor so much oh my I loved writing his part. Hope you enjoy dear♡ also tysm for 150 followers love you guys

Taking a bath with them♡ p3

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff/ slight smut♡

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of drowning in Nikolai's part but it's silly

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

due to his occupation he has to change hideouts/ houses quite often so y'all always use your tub.

not a big fan of bubbles but enjoys herbal scented oils

due to his anemia Fyodor can't handle really hot baths so the water is lukewarm most of the times

he's usually the one who pampers you, but after a harsh day he may let you wash his back and hair (let's be honest he needs it)

play some classical music, light a candle and brew him a cup of tea and he's all yours for the rest of the night

may not show it all the time but he's so grateful for spending time like this with you

It was around 10 p.m and you were getting ready to sleep when you heard a faint knock on your door.

"Yes?" you asked quietly as not to disturb the neighbours; the walls in your apartment building tended to be quite thin.

"It's me, my love" spoke the man from the other side.

You immediately unlocked the door and let your boyfriend inside, throwing your arms around his neck. "I missed you so much Fedya" you said in a sweet voice, gaining a chuckle from him.

Fyodor caressed the small of your back with his gloved hands, gently squeezing the plush of your hips "There, there darling. Thanks for letting me in."

"Of course"

You stepped away from him, giving him space to undress. Watching him stuggle to untie his shoelaces and hang his hoat, you couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"Tough day at work?" you asked, raising a brow.

"Yes, my love." he confessed, trying to keep his composure. Fyodor was still in the process of learning to be vulnerable around you so he tried to keep up appearances most of the time. Yet, he could not fool you.

"Would you like me to fix a bath for us? It'll help you wind down a little."

"That would be most wonderful, my dearest." he nodded, trying to suppress the smile that rose to his lips.

"Alright. Just give me a moment."

Around twenty minutes later the bath was finally ready. You had filled the tub to the brim with tepid water and threw in a few drops of his favourite essential oils: wintergreen and sweet orange.

"Mm it smells amazing sweetheart" he stated as he entered the bathroom. A slight smirk made his way to his lips when he saw you in the tub. "But I may love the sight of you even more"

He quickly took off his clothes and joined you, silently enjoying the pink tint that stained your cheeks.

After a few minutes in the water Fyodor started getting sleepy so he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. The sweet fragrance of the oils was soothing his senses and the water was just warm enough to relax his tense muscles.

He suddenly opened his eyes when he felt you shift closer to him. "Come on, Fedya, let me wash your hair."

Normally he would refuse, but considering his state he couldn't muster up the energy to say no. He simply turned his back to you, relishing the feeling of your lithe fingers gently massaging his scalp; at some point you started slowly humming a familiar melody. His shoulders jolted faintly at the sound of your voice.

"Ah, дорогая. I didn't know you liked Tchaikovsky."

"Well, I'm starting to enjoy classical music. I wonder why." you teased, placing a kiss on his cheek. You quickly rinsed off the shampoo and conditioned his hair before washing his back and shoulders. Tonight, your boyfriend was more quiet than usual but you didn't mind it; simply having him by your side again was enough.

"And you're all done" you informed him as you washed away the remainings of soap. "Ready to go to bed now?"

Fyodor nodded and got up, wrapping a towl around himself. "Thank you, my dearest." he said as he helped you out of the tub "I cherish you with all my heart."

"It's really nothing, мой любимый." you replied, struggling to pronounce the foreign words correctly.

Your partner chuckled and gently stroked your head; his violet eyes were gleaming with pride. "I see you're also learning Russian. Я горжусь тобой"

"Er... I didn't get that far yet." you babbled shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behing your ear. Fyodor's lips curled into a smile.

"I said I'm proud of you~"

Once you were in bed your partner's arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. He thanked you again for sharing this moment with him and showed his gratitude by leaving a trail of feathery kisses along your neck.

"Mm Fedya let's go sleep. It's late" you whispered, attempting to conceal the hint of desire in your voice.

"All right, my love. But I'd like to ask you one more thing before." he chuckled lightly

"What is it?"

"Sing me some more next time we do this."

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

this man's bathroom is full of mirrors you cannot change my mind; the floor has those black and white tiles and the tub is in the middle of the room

doesn't mind bubble baths but he has a strange fascination for bath bombs

he is so handsy oml

every five minutes he's like "Riddle me this, dove" and begins to tell you all sorts of silly riddles

performs magic tricks for you if you ask him

"Kolya... I think that's enough". For the past ten minutes you've been watching your lover throw bath bomb after bath bomb in your square shaped tub.

"Nah one more dove I promise I'll be done." He spoke the words in his usual perky voice, without averting his gaze from the fizzy bubbles that rose to the surface. The water was coloured in a hue of pink, red and purple, resembling the twilight sky.

"Alright dove, hop in" he finally said before sliding in the ceramic tub.

You carefully slipped out of the silk robe that you were wearing and joined your boyfriend; as you were about to seat yourself, he swiftly hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, deliberately pressing you against his pelvis.

"Oh take care pretty girl. You're going to get me all riled up" he snickered, running his fingers up and down your thigh.

"Aha so it's my fault now" you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He flashed you a suggestive smile before resting his chin on your shoulder; your eyes started darting around the room. No matter how many times you took a bath in Nikolai's bathroom you could never get used to the eerie atmosphere: the walls were covered in mirrors, making you lose the sense of space.

The biggest mystery was the source of light; the room was dimly lit, the golden light seeminly coming from the mirrors themselves.

"A magician doesn't reveal his tricks, dove" stated your partner whenever you asked him about the strange luminescence.

This time was no different. The feeling of nervousness was starting to take over you, your heart beating faster. The sudden change in your demeanour caused your partner to giggle.

"Aww is my little dove getting anxious? Now we can't have that let me help you relax a little"

His lithe digits gently squeeze the upper part of your thigh, moving closer to your core. You tried to seize his wrist but he stopped you.

"Nuh uh dolly. Be good and stay still for me, will you?" he purred, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your cheeks began to bloom with colour at his daring words, but you laid back against his chest.

"Good" he chuckle, resuming his movements. His thumb brushed over your clit, gaining a soft moan from you. Nikolai's ministrations continued for a couple of minutes, his needy hands not leaving any part of you untouched; his lips trailed along your neck, leaving lovebites and sweet kisses.

Your tense muscles slowly began to relax, every tender touch leaving you yearning for more. Your breath hitched when his digits finally slid along your folds, lightly parting them before...

"That's about enough, my dove. You're going to get all wrinkly if we don't get out of the water."

"Nah, just a few more minutes please" you whined, drawing his hand close to your core again.

"Look how impatient you are now, how cute. I'll give you more when we get to bed" he cooed, gently pinching your cheek.

You still insisted on staying a few more minutes, just to spite him; but he ultimately agreed.

"I'm surprised you agreed to take a bath with me again. Considering what happened last time..." he eventually said

"What? Oh yea you tried to drown me in this fizzy water."

"Yes, I did" he snickered as he placed his index finger under your chin and made you face him. "But you know why I stopped?"

You shook your head, holding his loving gaze; his eyes bore a shadow of longing.

"Well, my little dove, I decided to be selfish for once in my life. I figured that loving you in captivity is better than hoping that our dead souls will be bound for all eternity."

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂

it takes a while to convince him to bathe with you, but he'll do whatever it takes to please you

has both a regular tub and a jacuzzi in his casino

he treats you like a queen and blushes so hard when he sees you naked for the first time

Sigma doesn't have much free time so the baths don't usually last long, but he makes the most of that time

lets you wash and braid his hair and is incredibly fond of lavender and vanilla scented candles

You liked the sky casino: with its glitz and sophisticated night life. Seemingly a pretty normal place during the day, the casino turned into an airborne Sin City at night. The crystal chandeliers were all gleaming, music was roaring, drinks were poured and guests wearing glamorous garments walked the hallways of the gambling house till the sun came up.

But what you loved most about the casino was its manager. You don't remember exactly when the two of you got this close, but Sigma was now one of the people you cherished most in life. He was a caring boyfriend and although he didn't have much free time on his hands he always managed to spend a couple of hours with you every day.

Tonight he prepared a bath for the two of you. When you entered the bathroom adjoining your bedroom, you were instantly struck by the light scent of lavender.

Sigma was crouching next to the tub, testing the water.

"Hey honey" you chuckled "What are you doing?"

His head snapped towards you at the sound of your voice. "Oh, hi Y/N. I got a bath ready for us. Will you join me?"

He extended a hand for you and, before taking it, you quickly stripped off your cocktail dress and tip toed to him. Although you were still wearing your lingerie, your boyfriend's face turned a pretty shade of pink. He carefully twirled you around once, admiring your figure.

"Gorgeous as ever, darling" he smiled as he briefly pulled you into a hug. "Now get in the tub before the water turns cold, okay?"

You stepped out of your undergarments while he took off his clothes and soon you were both immersed in the scented water.

The night sky was visible through the large window of the bathroom; it was tinged an inky black, like the depths of the sea. The stars always appeared washed out from the ground, but up here they gleamed like sapphires.

You ran your fingers through Sigma's silky hair, gently separating it into strands.

"What are you doing back there?" he asked playfully, trying to turn to face you.

"Stay still, hon. I'm just braiding your hair."

You entwined his white and lilac curls, forming a beautiful pattern. During this time your partner was anxiously checking his clock.

"Do you need to leave already?" you asked in an understanding tone.

"Not yet. But some important guests will be arriving tomorrow at noon and I haven't managed to learn anything about them yet."

"Oh don't worry darling. You'll do great"

"I suppose..." he muttered.

After finishing his last braid, you spun him around so that you were facing each other. Your arms snaked around his neck and you pressed his forehead against yours.

"Listen to me, love. You're incredible at your job but you work too much. Take some time to relax, ok? You deserve it more than anyone."

You spoke tenderly, placing feathery kisses all over his face. Sigma's hands grabbed the plush of your hips, pulling your body closer to his and kissed you. He wasn't usually the one to initiate such saccharine affections, so his boldness took you by surprise. Nevetheless you indulged him, your manicured nails languidly grazing the back of his neck.

Your partner deepened the kiss as a response to your actions and tugged you impossibly close to him. Whenever Sigma kissed you, you saw the starry sky behind your closed eyes.

The tender moment was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sir?" spoke a man in meek voice "I know you've specifically requested not to be disturbed tonight, but you are needed in the game room. There's been a misunderstanding between two players."

"I'll be there in a moment" Sigma responded, trying his best to conceal the annoyance in his voice. The steps of the valet soon faded in the distance.

"I'm sorry I have to go so soon, love. I promise I'll make it up to you"

"There's no need, my angel." you hummed "I'll wait for you in bed, okay?"

He nodded eagerly before stepping out of the tub; you watched him dry himself with the white towels you kept under the sink and hurriedly put on his clothes. His heels clicked against the tiled floor as he made his way to the door.

"See you soon!" he chimed, closing the door with a thud.

After your partner had left, your gaze turned once again to the infinite blackness beyond the window. Then and there, your realized that you were in face a night sky too; and your lover was the multitude of stars that made you shine bright like a diamond.

[itryhardtomakethishouseahome]

Jjk love languages

~Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Maki, Megumi, Choso

pt 2(toji & sukuna)

a/n: sorry if this sucks, I wrote in in two hours(i just realized i left out toji but lmk if you want me to write one for him too). also, please reblog if you can, I'd really appreciate it!!!

Gojo~

Annoying the absolute fuck out of you(obviously)

You could be lying down reading a book or watching a show/movie and this man will sneak up behind you and try to jump scare you or use his infinity to prank you. When he’s laying on you and you haven't said anything for a while he’ll look up at you and start poking your cheeks or biting you.

On days where his behavior doesn’t resemble a child fueled by 6 bottles of coke, 3 monsters, 8 red bulls, and 10 tons of sugar, he’s extremely gentle and soft with you. Satoru will cling to you and kiss your cheeks, neck, forehead, or hands or caress your face while staring deeply into your eyes telling you that he couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

Maki~

Encouragement 

Sparring with Maki was never easy and 100% of the time you end up getting knocked on your ass which is a little sad considering she always takes it easy on you. She has a habit of letting everyone know how much they suck and rarely ever encourages those that train with her but with you she’ll help you up and tell her that you almost had her and to not give up with a half soft half cocky smirk. 

Because of where and how she grew up, she’s not the best with emotions but if you’re sad/stressed she’ll rub your back and tell you everything's gonna be okay or let you fall asleep in her arms if you’re at home.

Geto~

Princess treatment

If you need something but you're sitting with your legs over Suguru’s lap or laying on him and don’t feel like getting up he’ll sigh and immediately get up and get it for you. 

When you’re out shopping with him, Suguru always pays for everything even when you try to fight him over it. He’ll always buy you food or offer to share his with you even though he ends up fighting the reflex to swat your hand away  when he sees you reaching for some out of his peripheral due to Gojo trying to steal some all the time.

When you’re too tired to get ready or you’re sick he’ll bathe and clothe you then brush your hair while telling you how beautiful you are and that he’ll always take care of you.

Megumi~

Honestly all i can say is “idk i just work here🤷‍♀️”

In the beginning of your relationship Megumi was awkward. He was a mix between vibing in silence with you and trying to figure out what to say and do. You knew he was never good with his emotions and that was completely fine because he had other ways of showing what he was feeling or thinking. When he missed you he’d text or call to “check on you” but really it was to hear your voice. When he randomly felt like saying ‘I love you’ he would rest his head on your shoulder or lap or play with your hair.

When you’re sick or stressed but have stuff to do he’ll get sassy with you and demand that you stay in bed and that he’ll take care of both everything you need done and you.

Nanami~

Acts of service and princess treatment

Kento’s acts of love and affection range from small forehead kisses every time he walks by you or leaves the house to you coming home to find a trail of rose petals leading to the bathroom while he’s leaning over the tub, pouring in bath salts and essential oils. He’s always doing something for you like cooking dinner in a pink heart shaped apron and massaging your feet even when he’s the one that had a long day. 

You getting sick is a whole different story. Kento goes from calm mama Nanami mode to uncharacteristically panicked mama Nanami mode. He makes you soup, runs bathes for you, checks your temperature on the hour, and forces you to stay in bed but the second he hears you having a coughing fit his composure goes out the window and he’s by your side in a millisecond rubbing your back and asking if you need to go to the hospital in a panicked tone.

Choso~

Another “idk I just work here🤷‍♀️” moment 

Choso is not only new to society and normal people but also to relationships. He has absolutely no idea what to say and when to say it, but he notices that when he acts on his urges that you seem to like it. Sometimes he wants to blurt out how much he loves you, but he feels like it’d be weird so he’ll either hold your hand and stare at you or pick you up, take you to bed, and cuddle.

Choso noticed that you love playing with his hair so when he feels as though you’re not giving him enough attention, he’ll ask you to brush his hair or wash it for him.

When you get sick he breaks down and panics. He’ll call Itadori balling saying that he needs help, you’re dying, and he doesn’t know how to make you better. It happens every time you get sick; panic and call Itadori to come help while he cradles you in his arms, begging you not to die, with his tears dropping on your face while you try to calm him down.

[creatingblackcharacters]

🌹Ice's Lazy Loc Wash Routine🌹

I wanna preface this with two very important things:

I do not retwist my own locs! It would take far longer if I did. I have the tools and the means, and I know how to do it. I just hate doing it 🤣. It takes patience and arm strength and I lack the will. When I have the money I just schedule a retwist. Usually about every three months (which is longer than usual)

This is the way EYE do it! This is one experience out of countless, so don't assume my way is THEE way. There are people that will probably scream at me through the screen. But alas... It is "lazy" Loc wash day for a reason. And I do still care for my hair, and it's healthy and thriving for seven years (as of this Wednesday) 👍🏾

Okay? Okay.

Washing

The misconception about locs is that they are dirty. They're no "dirtier" than any other type of hair, nor do they require dirt to lock. That's a lie, and a racist one at that.

That being said, locs will end up holding the weight of life lol. Skin, sweat, dust, pollen, smells (and for me, bc I have dermatitis, scabs); all those things will end up weighing your locs down. Some people will do an Apple Cider Vinegar and Baking Soda wash to detox their locs.

However, I use this!

Essentially it's water, apple cider vinegar, orange peel, and some essential oils in a spray bottle, so I can spray it directly on my scalp and locs and massage it in deeply. Let it sit for a bit. Because I only wash my hair every 2 weeks or so, it's fine, but I wouldn't do this if I was washing it more frequently as it could mess up my scalp pH. Again, I have painful dermatitis, so it helps me get closer to my problem spots. Does it burn? Yes. It's working 👍🏾

Then I use this soap bar, which has things like coconut oil, aloe vera, eucalyptus, tea tree, almond, lemongrass, and more in it to scrub my scalp. You're supposed to rub it into your hands and scrub it in, so naturally I put the bar directly on my scalp. Be better than me. Smells AMAZING though and leaves my scalp clearer than it has ever been.

Medicated Shampoo

I use a medicated shampoo last. While that sits, I bathe 👍🏾 Bathe well, too 👍🏾 Please make sure your characters are bathing when they wash their hair 👍🏾

Once I'm done, I gently pull my locs apart (they WILL start tangling at the root IMMEDIATELY), then I wrap my hair in a beach towel. You're supposed to use t shirts because they're softer on curls, but I don't like water dripping on me while I get dressed. I put on easy to wear clothing. Tits loose clothing. I gotta be comfortable.

Medication

So if you know me, this is something I complain about ALL THE TIME. And it's how dermatology does NOT cater to Black patients! Even my shampoo says "for 30 days, wash every night". I'm Black with locs. My shampoos last for months bc that is impossible without me sacrificing my entire night, every night. Even if I had an Afro, we're still not supposed to wash our hair every night for fear of stripping the natural oils.

So I have to DEMAND I be given a medicated liquid solution. No petroleum based products!! A solution is the easiest way to reach my scalp. Does it burn? Yes. It's working. 👍🏾

So if your character has a skin issue (dermatitis, psoriasis, exzema excema eczema) on the scalp... Solutions are the easy way to go.

Moisturizing

I promise this isn't free ads lmao, I just happen to be experimenting with this company and I like what I've seen so far. This is a real lite oil spray with rose water and essential oils, and it cools my scalp.

Aloe Vera, the goddess of healing. Also cools my scalp and addresses those burning, pink spots from my dermatitis.

Drying

Drying depends on the length and thickness of your locs, and the temperature. Mine are shoulder length, pencil thick. Today I dried at real high heat (unintentionally) and it only took about an hour. At a lesser, safer heat, about two. This hair dryer bag is LIFE fr.

Conclusion

If I don't have anywhere else to go (and I don't, bc I plan my loc wash days like this) I spray my scalp with oil one more time, put on my loc sock, and then I'm done 👍🏾

Total time today: about two hours. Normally 3 at a lower dry temp. Not bad at all.

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Overstimulated ♡☁︎

Summary: She wanted to try role-play but she can't take it anymore. He takes care of her after it.

Warning: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, swearing?, fluff

A/N: enjoy <3

MASTERLIST requests are open

Hands tied to the bed, her whole body trembles with desire. Her eyes are filled with tears as she starts to beg him even more.

''Oscaaar... Pleaaase..'' She whines, her body wriggling under his lick.

''I didn't tell you you can cum.'' He looked up at her from between her thighs, his eyes dark from lust. It might be one hour they were like this. Her hands tied to the bed, him between her legs. But she still didn't cum. He doesn't say that she can come.

''Please please please please!!'' She begged him, almost crying from the intense pleasure.

He doesn't answer and keep rubbing his nose against her clit, fucking her with his tongue. What a lucky girl that her boyfriend has a long tongue. He fuck her, stimulating her sweet spot at the same time. He moves away a little, pushes two fingers inside her and moves back and forth, using his other hand to rub her clit.

''You're so tight..'' He whispered to her ear, kissing her collarbone and leaving a few red marks. He plays with her nipples by nibbing it and sucking her breasts.

It was too much for her. She can't take it anymore. Even if he didn't tell her to do it, she can't help but cum brutality around his fingers. ''Oscar!!'' She moaned loudly as her whole body shook and tensed.

''What a naughty girl..'' He takes away his fingers, places his tongue against her cunt and licks her again. He tasted her sweet nectar, overstimulated her. She keeps moaning, but more in pain than in pleasure.

''Uhhg.. Osc-.. Pastry! Pastry! Pastryyy!'' Tears falling from her eyes, she has to do it. She knows he won't stop until she uses the safeword. It was because of herself if she was here now.

He immediately took a step away from her, undoing the knot that tied her to the bed and massaged her wrist red from the tie.

''Sweetheart you're ok ?'' She refound her Oscar. Her sweet Oscar who takes care of her. Her sweet Oscar who pays attention to everything he does. Her sweet Oscar who always put her pleasure before his own.

He takes her in his arms, lifting her up to make her sit against the headboard. She takes refuge in his arms, crying softly against his shoulder.

''I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..'' She blames herself. She was the one who wanted to try. It was she who suggested that they can try this 'little role-playing game'.

''Don't apologize for using this word.'' He struck her back and her hair tenderly, trying to calm her down.

They stay like this for a few minutes, her calming down.

''You want to take a bath?'' He knows how much she likes to take a bath when she's not ok.

She nodded her head, wiping the last few tears from her face. He placed one hand under her knees and lifted her up like a princess towards the bathroom. He makes her sit in the sink, filling the bathtub with hot water. He had some rose and lavender essential oil.

''You want me to tie your hair up ?'' He looked at her, with his lovely eyes that she loved more than anything. She smiles tenderly at him.

''Yes please.'' He approached her, he took his hair in hand and brushed it then tied it into an ugly bun. He peeked her cheek and lifted her up again, making her sit in the bathtub.

He sits behind her, her between his legs, her back against his chest. He keeps her close to him, gently stoking her waist and arms. He kissed her cheek again.

''I love you my princess.'' He said, kissing her hair. She nuzzles her nose into his neck, kissing his neck.

''I love you more.'' Her voice sounded sleepy. He chuckled softly.

''Don't play this little game with me. I love you even more than my sisters.''

She closed her eyes, taking advantage of this rare moment. Oscar is a busy man. He's always in the four corners of the world, and she can't always follow him everywhere. Plus, he's not someone who shows his feelings a lot. Even though she is aware that when he is alone with her, he is no longer the same. But still, hearing her favorite Australian says that he loves her more than his sisters, it's not nothing. Especially when she knows how much he loves his family, his sisters.

They stay in the bath for around twenty minutes, until the warm water begins lukewarm, then cold.

Again, he helps her to get out of it, pass her some fresh clothes and when she's brushing her teeth, her hair and tied it in braids, he changes the sheets on the bed to be more comfortable.

They then go back to the bed, but for sleep this time. She cuddles him, already hearing his little snores.

What a lovely man he can be.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 5: Turn Off The Lights And Turn Off The Shyness]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, Otto being the worst (per usual), violence, serious injury, cryptic Helaena prophecies, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content including noncon (18+), dragons, demented flirting, a late-night surprise, Larys Strong returns. 😞

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Of All The Gin Joints In All The World” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.3k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

The sun would burn him, but moonlight is kind. You’re on the balcony of Aegon’s bedchamber, two chairs, two cups of wine, another full pitcher on the table between you, a glass bottle of warm rose oil like amber, like gold, freckled with curled ruby petals. You’re dressed in your usual attire, simple designs and neutral colors, greys and creams and dusky pinks; tonight your gown is a flat, inky blue that matches the night sky. Aegon is wearing his unpretentious cotton trousers—stained with splotches of pomegranate juice, his recompense before you allowed him the wine—and a tiny braid in his shaggy, silver hair.

“I look like your house’s sigil,” Aegon says as he massages rose oil onto his forearms, his palms moving in large sloppy circles over a patchwork of scar tissue; you would do a better job, but he says he wants to learn how to care for his wounds on his own. His dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—gleams in the cool, ghostly moonshine. His words are teasing, but his tone is dark, troubled, weary. “Some red, some white. All ugly.”

You smile. You aren’t agreeing, just playing along. “Our motto is better than our flag.”

“I might have been inebriated during that lesson.”

“Perpetual Resurrection.”

Aegon looks at you, confounded. “Quite the mouthful.”

“Crabs molt throughout their lifetime. They crack their own skins open and climb out. If they get stuck, they die. If they get attacked before their new shell hardens, they die. But if they live…they’re a brand new version of themselves. Larger, wiser, more powerful.”

“Spiders,” Aegon says. “You’re trying to placate me with some rousing metaphor about what are essentially aquatic spiders.”

“They’re tasty too,” you say, grinning. “Especially when their shells are still soft. The cooks would serve them fried and us kids would sit around the table ripping the legs free and throwing them at each other.”

“What, you can eat the crab whole?!”

“Yes. Once the faces are cut off and the organs scooped out.”

He pretends to be repulsed by you. “Harrowing. Revolting. This is why Targaryens have always refused to breed with your kind.”

It’s funny, but it isn’t, because it’s a little too close to what you’re both thinking. Under the moonlight, you watch Aegon with the words caged behind your teeth: What do you want most? Who are you in your bones? Where would we be if the world wasn’t crashing down around us?

He slathers rose oil on his scarred right cheek—carelessly, distractedly—and accidentally pokes himself in the eye. “Ow.”

You ask: “Why do you want to do that yourself now?”

“To prove I can. To feel ever so slightly less like an invalid.” He takes a swig of his wine and gazes out over the nightscape ocean, stars in the sky, stars reflected on waves. “I am a study in irony. I spent my whole life waiting for it to be over. I poisoned myself, wasted years, resisted any semblance of usefulness. And now I finally have things I want to accomplish, I finally have reasons to live…and I’m trapped in the flesh of some pathetic, deformed, calamitously weak stranger.” He shakes his head, despondent, still not looking at you. “I can have a body that works. I can have a soul. But I can’t have both at the same time. It’s so fucking unfair.”

“I like you exactly as you are. Body and soul.”

“Everything I own, everything I’m given…” He stares down at his palms, open and empty. “It is destroyed, gets killed, goes mad. I ruin causes. I ruin people. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I think I’m going to be ruined either way. I’d rather you be the one responsible.”

“Angel,” he says, low and serious. And now his gaze comes back to meet yours. “Who are you supposed to marry?”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want it to be true. Your voice is a whisper, almost lost in the night wind. “Cregan Stark.”

His eyes shoot wide, not just startled but terrified. “Stark?!”

You nod miserably. “My father took me and my sisters to Winterfell as part of a trade mission. Cregan decided he wanted me. I never encouraged it, I never desired it, I swear I didn’t—”

“No, I believe you,” Aegon says. He swallows a gulp of wine noisily, his hand shaking. “You were right. I can’t touch him. I can’t stop it. Not unless I win.”

“You don’t want the Iron Throne,” you tell Aegon, already knowing it’s true.

He snorts, a harsh derisive sound. “Who would?”

“Lots of people, I think. But not you or Rhaenyra.”

This intrigues him. “She doesn’t want it either?”

“Not from what I’ve seen and heard. Or, at least, she didn’t until Luke was killed. It changed her. I’m still not convinced she wants to be the queen, but she wants vengeance. And absolute power is a sure path to it.” And so the suffering continues, it goes around and around like a wheel, it is a debt that is never satisfied but only spread like plague.

“I don’t understand why Aemond did that,” Aegon says. His words are hushed, like he’s never spoken them to anyone but you and never will. “When he returned from Storm’s End, I held a feast for him. I had to, someone had to, someone had to pretend it was a victory instead of a murder. But it didn’t make any sense. Arrax was an inconvenience, not a threat. Luke was far more valuable as a hostage than a corpse. Aemond has always been the disciplined brother, the strategic one. I won’t claim to be clever. But I can’t find any strategy in what happened there.”

“Aemond has a temper. He is haunted, I believe. He is not above reckless fury.”

“No, evidently not.” Aegon sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair; again, his dragon ring glints under the moonlight, silver reflected off gold. “I’ll try to win,” he says. “For my family. For you.” Then he smirks, a grim attempt at humor. “Though I pity Cregan Stark for the paradise I will deprive him of.”

You do not return Aegon’s smile. “Don’t have too much pity for him. I have no expertise and I’m scared to death of it. I’d probably end up hiding under his bed, gripping the legs for dear life. He’d have to drag me out and tie me down.”

Aegon is alarmed; his storm-blue eyes are now focused, seeking. He is aware that he has wandered into a quagmire. He treads carefully. “When you say no expertise, you mean…none at all?”

“None.”

“But what about all of those anatomically-correct cock illustrations in your medical books?”

Another joke you can’t bring yourself to laugh at. You drink your wine to stop your lips from quivering, smooth the silk of your gown with a trembling hand. You see it no matter where you look: the pool of red on Theodora’s bedsheets, the dawning and inescapable realization on her face. This is her life now. This will always be her life.

Aegon says gently: “You have no expectation of pleasure.”

“It seems…inherently violent. For the woman. Even if it isn’t meant to be. Being overpowered, being invaded. The man decides when and how it happens. The woman endures.”

Aegon stares at you—biting his full lower lip, deeply somber—but doesn’t speak. He gives you the impression of someone with so many thoughts swimming around in his skull he is struggling to choose just one.

You smile dimly. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you sad.”

“I’m, um…” Aegon pauses to collect himself; he drains his wine cup and sets it back on the table. He is uncharacteristically cautious, like he thinks one unwise word will break the spell of whatever exists between you, this temptation, this need. “I’m saddened by the fact that you think of it that way. Because it doesn’t have to be…distasteful. Frightening. Coerced. It shouldn’t be, in fact.”

“I suppose I’ll find out if the Blacks win this war and Cregan Stark comes to claim me.”

Again, Aegon is exceptionally circumspect. “You’ve never wanted any man?”

“No. Never. Not in that way. Until…” You look at him, willing him to understand. I want you, but I’m so goddamn afraid to. I’m afraid of this world, I’m afraid there’s no hope left in it.

Slowly, Aegon smiles, soft and warm. And without any grasping, animalistic greed, he reaches over to rest a palm on your thigh, night-dark silk draped over skin that doesn’t flinch away from him, doesn’t even have to fight the instinct to. You place a hand on his. Your fingertips trace the gold wings of the green-eyed dragon ring he never takes off. And it is sealed like a covenant under the stars, this allegiance that neither of you could begin to explain to anyone else.

Footsteps are coming through Aegon’s bedchamber, heavy and purposeful. Otto Hightower appears in the balcony doorway. He fills the space like storm clouds flood a clear sky, like blood saturates linen. “You’re getting fat,” he tells Aegon gruffly.

“You’re getting ever more wrinkly and close to the afterlife.”

Otto glances to where Aegon’s hand still rests on your thigh and snaps: “If you’re well enough for that, perhaps you would deign to join us in the council chamber. You could shock everyone by actually acting like a king.”

Then he’s gone, taking those last echoes of the moment with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“They know she’s here,” Larys Strong says. His audience is gathered around the table: Otto, Criston, Daeron, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, the knights of the Kingsguard, Aegon slumped way down in his seat and you beside him feeling his forehead worriedly for fever. Because Aegon and Daeron are in attendance, the council chamber is one chair short. Aemond has elected to be the person to stand; he lurks, severe and silent, in a corner of the room half-lit by torchlight. Daeron is dressed in a vibrant teal, Aegon in black; Aemond wears green, dark and brooding like envy.

Criston Cole asks: “How is that possible?”

Otto sighs irritably, rubbing his forehead. “We have spies. I’m sure Rhaenyra does as well.”

“Someone apparently glimpsed the prince regent…um…” Larys searches for the diplomatic word. “Escorting her through the streets of King’s Landing.”

“Dragging is what he did,” Aegon says, glaring at Aemond. “Abducting. Attacking. Imprisoning.” Aemond, arms crossed over his chest, studies his boots and pretends not to have heard him.

Larys continues: “The Blacks don’t believe that she is here of her own volition.”

Otto’s eyes narrow. “What, they think we’ve detained her as some sort of…healer? Hostage?”

“No, my lord,” Larys says, hesitantly, awkwardly. “They don’t imagine the king’s motivations to be that honorable.”

Otto is losing his patience. “Meaning?”

Larys toys with his restless, rodentlike hands. “They think she is being…violated.”

A stilted, scandalized hush falls over the table. “Good,” Aegon says, invoking gasps and gapes. “If Green supporters believe her to be my captive, they won’t harm her. And if the Blacks think she is being held here against her will, she would be safe with them as well. No matter who wins, she is not in danger.”

“That is hardly beneficial for your own reputation, Your Grace,” Tyland Lannister says.

Aegon grins beneath cold eyes; he shows his teeth like a wolf, like a dragon. “Was my reputation so pristine to begin with, Lord Lannister?”

“No, perhaps not,” Tyland mumbles. Still, he should not have said it aloud. Otto huffs another sigh and rolls his eyes.

“So you intend to keep a Celtigar daughter in your service?” Otto says to Aegon.

“I have no doubts concerning her loyalty.”

Larys adds: “My lord, I must say, I cannot see a tactical advantage in her saving the king’s life if she retains any loyalty to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

“Then why save him at all? Why bother? He was lying there half-dead, soon to be properly dead, and she brought him back practically singlehandedly. Why?”

“Mercy,” Aemond says quietly from the corner, and everyone turns to look at him. “Many people have none of it. She perhaps has too much. And now they have grown…” He gestures vaguely, perhaps bashfully. “Attached to each other.”

Jasper Wylde is dismayed. “But the king has a wife.”

Daeron snickers. “Yes, and that has always proved to be such a deterrent in the past.”

“Daeron,” Aegon cautions mildly.

The youngest Targaryen brother obediently sobers and shows the palms of his hands in contrition. “My apologies.” He hides his face with a slurp of his wine cup.

“And what about Cregan Stark?!” Otto exclaims. “You’d encourage his outrage, his Northerner savagery? Seven hells, he thinks you’re spending your days raping his betrothed, do you imagine that will not invoke fiercer wrath, put all of us at greater risk?!”

“Lord Stark was never a reachable ally to our cause, in my estimation,” Larys says calmly.

“That’s not the point, Larys! The point is—!”

“I can offer you something in return for the heightened danger you have assumed,” you interrupt, and these men stare at you as if suddenly remembering that you are here in the room with them, not a phantom or a myth or a cautionary tale but someone real. Aegon glances over, one eyebrow raised on his drawn, perspiring face. He doesn’t know what you’re going to say either.

Otto peers menacingly across the table. “What could you possibly have to barter with? The king is well enough now. He will live with or without you.”

“I have information. I know the workings of Rhaenyra’s council in the leadup to Rook’s Rest.”

“You attended her council meetings?”

“No, but I spent evenings with my father and brothers as they discussed them.”

Otto sits back in his chair, pondering you. After a moment, he nods. “Go on then.”

“I want one concession before I reveal what I know.”

“Besides being permitted indefinite room and board in the Red Keep, which you are in no way entitled to?”

“Not negotiable,” Aegon says.

Otto chuckles, humorless, incredulous, shaking his head. “Fucking insane. Alright. What is it you want, girl?”

“If any member of House Celtigar is taken captive, I want them to be given the opportunity to swear fealty to King Aegon and receive a full pardon for their sins. If they refuse, they are to go to the Night’s Watch, not the scaffold.”

“That’s your price? That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Otto is amused. “Nothing for you? No gold, no land?”

“No.” The prospect hadn’t even occurred to you.

“Not very self-serving. So unlike a Celtigar.” Otto grins, not kindly at all. “Your terms are accepted.”

You begin. “The Greens possess great wealth, now split for safekeeping between Oldtown, Casterly Rock, and the Iron Bank of Braavos. But Rhaenyra’s funds are far more finite. My father has enriched her coffers in part with taxes placed upon houses of the Crownlands. You are always seeking new allies, people you can turn from her side to yours, Corlys Velaryon, the Dragonseeds. Thus far, you have been unsuccessful.” Otto frowns, but he is listening. “I know there are families who have compelling grievances concerning my father’s taxes. Families who have become disenchanted with Rhaenyra’s leadership…or lack thereof, they might say. Rosby, Stokeworth, Cave, Langward, Bourney, Boggs, Hardy, Chyttering. Probably others as well now. They occupy a tactically significant position, being so near to Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I believe if you wrote to them, they would answer.”

“I’ll send ravens,” Otto says. He marvels at you, like a puzzlingly strange creature, a luminescent fang-toothed fish from the depths of the ocean, a direwolf from beyond the Wall. “You don’t want your side to win this war?”

“I want the killing to stop. For both sides.”

“Well, you won’t get that. The bitch will never surrender. That hope died with little Luke Strong.” Otto glowers bitterly at where Aemond stands in the shadowy corner, but he addresses you. “That is your impression as well? She was entertaining the possibility of a truce before he died at Storm’s End?”

You steal a glimpse of Aemond, and you are struck by an unexpected stab of sympathy for him, compassion that feels like a betrayal of your knowledge of the torture he had planned for you. But what is there to say but the truth? “Rhaenyra was considering it very seriously. She and Daemon quarreled over the subject.”

“Of course they did.” Otto looks at Criston, then back to Aemond. “When are you leaving?”

“Soon,” Criston answers for the prince regent. “Very soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Otto spits like venom, and everyone else averts their eyes.

“My lord,” Larys intercedes. “There is one more matter to discuss, and I believe it will be of great interest to His Grace the king.”

Aegon is struggling to concentrate. He blinks groggily at the Master of Whisperers, his brow creased with pain. You smooth his damp, white-blond hair back from his face, threading his braid through your fingertips; you refill his wine cup and give it to him. When Aegon lifts it to his lips, his hands shake so badly he spills scarlet beads like blood down his chin. He wipes them away with his sleeve. Grand Maester Orwyle offers him a small glass bottle of milk of the poppy, but Aegon refuses it.

“Is he alright?” Daeron mutters to you.

“He’s fine. He’s tired, that’s all.”

“Waste no time, Lord Larys,” Aegon says. “I fear Grandsire’s ire has exhausted me. He’s more ferocious than a dragon. We should find a saddle that fits, perhaps Criston could ride him to the Riverlands.”

“Keep guzzling wine, I’m sure that will improve your condition,” Otto bites back.

Larys continues: “It concerns Rook’s Rest.”

Now he has everyone’s attention. “What about Rook’s Rest?” Aegon says. Instinctively, he’s begun twisting the golden dragon ring on his left hand.

“I received word one hour ago that the Blacks have retaken it.”

“What?!” Otto shouts; the rest of the table is in uproar. Criston stands and goes to conspire with Aemond in the corner of the council chamber, urgent indecipherable whispers.

“Sunfyre,” Aegon says frantically. “I have to go to him, I have to get him out—”

“He is already gone, Your Grace,” Larys replies.

“Gone…?”

“Lord Walys Mooton went down to the beach to slay the dragon once his men had taken the castle. He was burned alive.”

“Perfect,” Daeron says, beaming radiantly.

“Lord Mooton’s men fled for their lives, and when they returned, Sunfyre had disappeared. He could not be found anywhere in the vicinity of Rook’s Rest. Moreover, his footprints in the sand stopped abruptly. Which means he must have departed—”

“Into the water…?” Tyland Lannister says, perplexed.

“No,” Larys corrects him. “Into the sky.”

“Sunfyre is flying again?” Aegon asks, his face childlike, astonished.

“That’s impossible,” Criston says. “His wing was broken, I saw it.”

Larys drums his fingers on the tabletop. “I cannot conceive of any other explanation.”

“Then he’ll find me.” Aegon smiles. Sweat snakes down his temples; his face is white, bloodless, barren like the moon. “When Sunfyre is ready, he’ll find me and we’ll be together again.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Otto exhales. “The Old, the New, that ghastly Drowned one…” He waves a hand at you. “And do you have any to add, Lady Celtigar? Some crab deity your traitorous people worship?”

“I regret to disappoint you, my lord. To my knowledge we have none.”

“Three useable dragons,” Otto says, mostly to himself. “Three is good. With three, we have a chance. And if I can recruit Vermithor or Silverwing…”

“I should go with you when you and Criston march north,” Daeron tells Aemond.

“No,” Aemond returns immediately.

“If you’re going after Daemon, you could use me,” Daeron insists. “Tessarion and I can help.”

“You are needed in the Reach with Lord Ormund Hightower.”

“You just want him all to yourself,” Daeron realizes, exasperated. “You want to be able to say that you were the person to neutralize the Blacks’ greatest asset, that you won the war—!”

Criston says: “He’s not going on some suicide mission chasing Daemon and Caraxes all over the Riverlands. He’s staying with me and the army. He’s using Vhagar logically, responsibly. Right, Aemond?”

“Of course,” Aemond answers, entirely toneless.

Otto whirls to Aegon. “And when will you be able to fight again? Soon, I hope. Surely the culmination of your existence is not one single instance of utility before lapsing back into being some drunken, idiot degenerate.”

In reply, Aegon moans and crumples to the floor. Grand Maester Orwyle and the men of the Kingsguard rush to him, but Criston gets there first; when you cannot rouse the king, Criston throws him over one shoulder—increasingly difficult with each pound Aegon gains, softness and health that you consider a great victory—and ferries him back to bed. As you follow after them, you hesitate in the doorway of the council chamber. Now that Criston is gone, Otto has crossed the room and pinned Aemond to the wall. His large hands, heavy with rings, are pressed to Aemond’s chest; his face is snarling, wicked, callous.

“You have to fix this. You have to end it.”

“I know,” Aemond replies softly.

“Everything that’s happened is your fault.”

“I know,” Aemond says again, then rips free from Otto’s grasp and flees the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Criston leads his army out of the city. They will meet reinforcements on the road between the capital and the Riverlands. There is infantry on foot and cavalry on horses; above them in a blue sky cluttered with vast, cottony clouds are Aemond and Vhagar. As they head north, Daeron and Tessarion fly south towards the Reach to rejoin Ormund Hightower and his men. In Winterfell, Cregan Stark is receiving word of where (and with whom) his betrothed currently resides. At Harrenhal, Daemon and Nettles are kindling rumors like dry wood in a fire. On Dragonstone, Rhaenyra is nursing her rage and paranoia like a hungry child, like a wounded man who has milk of the poppy poured down his throat. And you remain static here in King’s Landing, anchored, steadfast, something immoveable like the ocean or the shore it meets.

You can see Aegon’s bedchamber windows from the beach. You keep glancing up at them, though you know he won’t be there; the sunlight is too harsh today, the potential damage to his skin too great. In a month, he may be able to venture outside as he used to. In two or three, he might be able to fight again. He might be able to kill more than just one errant Norcross boy who dared to touch you.

“Helaena wouldn’t come down to join us?” you ask Autumn. You’re walking with her in the surf, the hems of your held aloft so the froth of the waves can wash over your ankles. Perhaps ten yards away and out of earshot, Alicent is kneeling in the sand and playing with Jaehaera and Maelor. They are her great comfort now; they are not the only purpose she has left, but they are the kindest. Their tiny hands are preoccupied with building a sandcastle and adorning it with seashells, pebbles, shards of driftwood, strings of seaweed like green ribbons. You’ve started to notice how much Jaehaera resembles Aegon, his murky blue eyes and his high cheekbones and his gentleness that no one else seems to recognize. You’ve started to see him everywhere you look.

Autumn shrugs, her face apologetic. Her hair is more than just copper in the afternoon daylight; it is fire, it is blood. “I really tried. You know how she is.”

“I’ll visit her afterwards.”

“She unnerves me,” Autumn says, stroking her round belly and shuddering. She earns her keep here by helping to look after Helaena, Jaehaera, and Maelor. Aegon treats Autumn the same way he treats his wife and children, which is to say he generally ignores her; on the rare occasion he is subjected to her presence for more than a fleeting moment, he becomes uneasy, irritable. Autumn does not appear to be offended. She says this is the best job she’s ever had. “She’s always muttering the strangest things. Caterpillars and crabs and dragons and only the gods know what else. Yesterday she told me not to dance with the half-year queen. What the fuck does that mean?”

“Helaena’s a bit different,” you admit.

“She’s inbred, that’s what she is. I can’t imagine what those kids are going to grow up to be like. A brother and sister for parents? It’s a wonder they don’t have feathers or tails.” Autumn taps the swell of her belly. “At least this one—if it’s a Targaryen after all—has had its bloodline thoroughly diluted.”

You watch her standing there in the fiery late-afternoon light, this body that has comforted, consoled, satisfied, suffered, known so many men. “What does it feel like?” you ask quietly.

“What? Being with child?”

“No, the…um…the act that led to it.”

“Oh, yes.” Autumn stretches with her hands on the small of her back and smiles vaguely, nostalgically. “That’s the strange thing. It can feel like heaven or hell or nothing at all. If the man knows what he’s doing, and cares enough to try, he can make it better for you.”

“Better how?”

She furrows her brow, shoots you a skeptical sideways glance. She is aware that you are inexperienced, but the extent of your blind spots continuously shock her. It occurs to you that perhaps naivety is a privilege; some cannot recall a time before they were acquainted with truths of the world that others consider forbidden. “You know. He’ll use his hands or his mouth to get you ready. Or better yet, both at once.”

“Ready,” you repeat, not understanding.

“Well, you see…” Autumn takes a moment to decide how best to explain. “Men change when they are aroused, yes? Women do the same. It takes longer, and it is not always so obvious. But it is vital. The more ready you are, the more comfortably he will fit inside you.”

“And what if he doesn’t get you ready? If he doesn’t have the skill, or he doesn’t believe it’s necessary, or he doesn’t even know that’s something women require?” Or he just wants to hurt you. He just wants to watch you bleed like something he goes into the woods to kill and gut and devour.

Autumn smirks cynically. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“The sizes involved. Some men are bigger than others, and women have different dimensions as well. Couples can be well-matched or not. Sometimes it isn’t too bad. Sometimes it feels like you’re being ripped apart. And that doesn’t necessarily stop after the first time either.”

“And you can’t say no.”

“You can say no all you want. But he doesn’t have to listen.”

You peer out over Blackwater Bay, sunbeams flashing on wave crests and gulls swooping in the reddening sky. But you don’t really see it. What you see are fingerprints of dirt or ash on your thighs, snow in your hair, books laden with dust, fur coats and evergreen trees, rust-stains of blood on bedsheets.

“I’ve heard that Lord Stark is a very large man,” Autumn nudges. She knows, everyone knows.

“He’s massive,” you say forlornly. “He’s taller than Aemond and twice as broad.”

“The king isn’t so big,” she says, pretending that the thought has just popped into her mind, as if she hasn’t noticed the way you and Aegon look at each other, speak to each other, find excuses to touch each other.

“No,” you agree in a whisper.

“And he’s not a brute. I can’t fairly speak to his skill, I never had him anywhere close to sober. But he has no appetite for women’s pain. That’s a valuable gem in a man, it’s like stumbling across a ruby or a pearl.”

You nod; but you don’t want to think about Autumn lying with Aegon. You don’t want to think about the child they might share. In a world so dark, it seems cruel to begrudge people creating life where none existed before. But when you picture Aegon touching someone else, that darkness seeps in through your skin like rain soaks the earth and can’t find its way out. “We’re going to the library together tomorrow, aren’t we?”

Autumn groans. “Did I agree to that? I don’t believe I did.”

She did not, this is true; you badgered, she deflected. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“I am illiterate.”

“I told you. I’ll teach you how to read.”

“Why would I want to stare at ink marks in a book all day when I could be outside in the sunshine listening to the ocean and herding inbred little freaks like sheep?”

“Because books can take you anywhere,” you say.

“I like where I am. I’ve never seen anyplace better.”

“Okay, Autumn,” you concede, smiling. “I’ll ask again tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll change your mind.”

“Say hello to Helaena for me,” she says, meandering back towards Alicent and the children. Her footprints in the sand are erased when the gurgling waves roll over them. “Maybe one of those fancy books can help you translate lunacy into the Common Tongue.”

Upstairs in her bedchamber, Helaena is standing in front of an open window. It doesn’t offer a view of the ocean; it is positioned over a courtyard of sandstone and chatting courtiers. Helaena does not seem to hear them. She gazes out into the sunset, celestial rage on her impassive face.

“He’s leaving soon,” she says, not turning to look at you.

“Who, Helaena? Aemond? He left days ago. He’s already gone, he’s on his way to the Riverlands. But he’ll be back soon.” You don’t know if that’s true—it probably isn’t, in fact—but you’re certain that Helaena misses him. Her children do too; he is more of a father to them than Aegon has ever been, not in body but in soul.

She only repeats: “He’s leaving soon.”

“Helaena, what—?”

“He’ll leave you. Then you’ll leave him. He’ll make you.”

At last, and very slowly, she revolves like the stripe of shadow across a sundial. In her cupped palms is a butterfly, shimmering gold wings and spiderlike black legs. It takes flight, flutters aimlessly through the vermillion air, escapes out the open window.

~~~~~~~~~~

A peculiar twist of fate: his palm on your forehead, his whispers through your hair. Now he is the one who has stolen into your bed when the moon and stars hang high in the darkness outside. There is a noise somewhere beyond him, disembodied and hazy, that reminds you of torrential rain: omnipresent, thunderous.

“Angel,” Aegon is saying. “Wake up. Please wake up. I have to go.”

Go? Go where? You murmur, still half-asleep: “You can’t leave.” He isn’t strong enough yet. He can’t fight, he can’t run.

“I have to. They’re here.”

“Who…?”

The answer comes from the sounds that you are only now awake enough to understand: screaming, pounding boots, slamming doors, the ravenous crackling of fire, the shrieking of dragons. You have learned all of their unearthly voices. That’s not Vhagar or Tessarion or Sunfyre or Dreamfyre… It flashes by your windows, a comet of gold and flames.

You bolt out of bed. “Rhaenyra—?!”

“Rhaenyra, Syrax, Daemon, Caraxes.”

Daemon shouldn’t be here. He should be losing battles to Aemond and Criston. “But he’s at Harrenhal!”

“Not anymore.” Aegon takes your hand and pulls you out into the hallway, the hem of your nightgown billowing around your legs, his short silver hair flying behind him. There are servants and guards rushing by you, weeping, shouting, searching for places to hide. Grand Maester Orwyle ambles towards the rookery to send out ravens. Several rooms away, you can hear Helaena wailing and Autumn trying to soothe her. Larys Strong intercepts Aegon and gives him a hooded cloak; Aegon yanks it over his bare, mutilated chest, whimpering as the rapid movement strains the red-and-ivory disarray of scar tissue that used to be his skin. “You have everything?” he asks Larys hoarsely. You notice now that the Master of Whisperers has a satchel slung over one shoulder.

“Yes, Your Grace. Milk of the poppy, rose oil, the crown.”

“Wine?”

Larys produces a bottle. Aegon gulps down half of it, then passes the rest to you. You hesitate before finishing the wine, red like the sigil of House Celtigar, like fire, like blood. “They are closing all roads out of the city,” Larys tells Aegon, speaking swiftly. “King’s Landing will be taken. We will surrender. We cannot fight a dragon, let alone two.”

“Aemond and Criston—?”

“Daemon must have outflanked them.”

Aegon grabs your hand again and does not let go as he trails Larys through corridors and down claustrophobically tight spiral staircases. “The roads are blocked,” Aegon explains to you breathlessly. “But there are secret passageways beneath the castle. I know them. Larys knows them. Daemon probably knows them too, but he has other places to be.”

And through a window of a staircase, you see him: Caraxes spiraled around the apex of the Tower of the Hand, screaming fire into the sky before descending the length of the tower towards the hoards of hysterical courtiers fleeing below, his claws jostling loose bricks that rain down on them.

The bottom of the stairwell opens up into a large, dusty, dirt-floored chamber with stone tunnels leading in every direction like spokes of a wheel. Alicent is there, sobbing wildly, and so is Otto. Otto is telling Jaehaera that she must be a brave little girl and go with Sir Willis Fell. Alicent is giving Maelor over to Sir Rickard Thorne, your once-alleged-kinfolk. The child is panicked and crying, flushed face and white hair. Aegon glances at the scene and then keeps moving, towing you along with him.

“Princess Jaehaera will go to Storm’s End,” Larys says. “Prince Maelor will go to Oldtown. They face execution if they stay. We must risk smuggling them out of the city.”

“What about Aegon?” you ask as the three of you hasten into a corridor thick with cobwebs and illuminated by torchlight. The stone ceiling is arched and perhaps seven feet tall; faintly, you can still hear the muffled turmoil of King’s Landing falling to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

“I’m going Dragonstone.” And it does not elude you that he didn’t say we. “If Rhaenyra is here, that likely means Dragonstone is vacant. I will go to the Crownlands families that you believe to be willing to betray her and beg them for support. I will take Dragonstone and prepare a counterassault from there. Hopefully Sunfyre will find me. Hopefully I’m not killed on the way.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’m going too.”

“You’re staying in King’s Landing.”

“No.” You stop dead, wrenching your hand out of Aegon’s. “No, what if you get hurt, or sick, or what if you get really bad again—?!”

“Listen!” he shouts with dire intensity, his eyes wide and pleading in the torchlight. “I can’t protect you. I can’t even protect myself. There could be bandits on the road, there could be Black soldiers, there could be animals, there could be fucking anything. I can’t take you with me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to Dragonstone. But I know if I stay here Rhaenyra will murder me. I don’t have a choice. I have one option, and it’s not good. But you’ll be safe in King’s Landing.”

“Aegon, no—”

“The Blacks don’t think you’re here by choice. They think I’ve imprisoned you. Tell them that’s what happened and they will welcome you back. Your family will protect you.”

“Aegon, please don’t—”

His palm on your cheek, his braid coming unraveled in his hair. “You will wait out the war with them. And when it’s over I’ll find you.” Tears glistening in his eyes, his voice going soft and tender. “If I’m still alive, I’ll find you. I swear to all the gods I will.”

He’s leaving. He’s really leaving. “What can I do?” you ask, your words strangled; your throat is burning, your eyes wet. “What can I do to help you?”

And you expect him to say things you already know: Don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone. Don’t tell anyone what you’ve heard in the Greens’ council meetings. Instead, Aegon grins as he says: “Try to get one of your three superfluous sisters to seduce Cregan Stark.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off ancient, filthy stones.

“My mother and Otto are waiting for you. You will be with them when they are taken to Rhaenyra. They are high-ranking prisoners of war, they will be spared the brutality of the Black soldiers and so will you. They will corroborate that you were my captive.”

“I understand.”

“I have to go now,” Aegon says like an apology, swiping tears from your face with his thumbs. He breaks away from you and follows Larys Strong down the tunnel. They are shadows under the torchlight, cloaks and whispers.

“Aegon,” you call after him, and he stops. I never told you what I wanted. I never told you what I feel for you. “What if I never see you again?”

You don’t know what you want him to do or say. There’s nothing that could make this right. But he soars back to you, takes you roughly and desperately, buries his hands in your hair and kisses you deeply, tasting like wine and heat and the smoke filling the world outside. He means for it to be quick, but he can’t stop. His tongue darts between your lips, his hips press to yours, you arch into him wanting more, infinitely more.

What was I so afraid of? you think dizzily. How could I be afraid of anything with him?

“Your Grace,” Larys appeals regretfully. “Please. We don’t have much time.”

Aegon twists off his dragon ring—gold wings, jade eyes—and slips it onto your left hand. And you’re still staring down at it, mystified, as Aegon disentangles himself from you and vanishes into the darkness.

[fluffy-dixon]

Title: Rose🌹

Summary: Reader Suffers from anxiety and struggles with a bad attack. Daryl comforts them.

Pairings: Daryl x Reader

Era: Prison

Word count: Approx 940 I wrote this on my iPad.

Warnings: extreme anxiety attack? It’s supposed to be fluff but apparently it’s also angst.

This was my first ever one shot which I have re-written – I wrote this for Valentines Day.

--

You awoke to a crushing weight on your chest, panic surging as you struggled for breath. Another episode was upon you.

The cell’s darkness was absolute, save for a sliver of light that outlined the door’s draped sheet. It was just enough to search for your blankets—the ones Daryl had gathered for you, knowing they eased your distress. Though not essential, he’d always find a way to bring one back, hiding it for you to discover later.

Desperately, you searched the cot’s emptiness for any sign of the comforting fabric.

But there was nothing, and time was slipping away.

Tears streamed down your face, each one scalding like molten rock. Your throat constricted, a vice tightening and choking off your breath. You screamed silently within.

Air. You needed air.

Swinging your legs out, you hauled yourself into a sitting position, hands bracing on your knees. You adopted the tripod stance Daryl had shown you—tripoding. Gasping, you tried to steady your breathing, passing out was not an option.

Inhale through your nose, count to four, exhale. Again, inhale, count to three but relief eluded you; none of the learned techniques were working.

You needed air.

The tingling in your hands spread, a fiery sensation engulfing your arms, neck, and face.

Reaching for the oil lamp you kept for emergencies, you overextended, expelling the last of your breath as the lamp crashed to the floor, shattering.

The noise was sure to draw attention, giving the council yet another reason to cast you out. You were already a burden; this was the last thing you needed.

Defeated, you collapsed back onto the bed, the cell spinning around you. Your body convulsed, each tremor a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

Then, his voice.

“Y/N? Y’kay in there?!”

The Archer. Your archer. Best friend. Soul mate.

Sweat drenched you, blurring your vision, but his silhouette was unmistakable against the door’s curtain.

A groan of panic escaped you, but it was enough. In an instant, Daryl was there, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace.

“C’mere, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly comfort. You clung to the resonance of his words, a cry of relief breaking free as you felt the tension begin to dissipate.

“The blankets n’working?” You shook your head vigorously, pressing it into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his sturdy embrace. The scent of smoke and musk from his skin enveloped you, a comforting aroma you’ve always cherished.

“I can’t—find—” Your words faltered, but he hushed you gently. The dizzying whirl of the room gave way to a soothing rocking motion, cradling you towards calmness.

“Breathe w’me. You can do this, just as I taught ya.”

Inhale through your nose, count to four, then exhale.

A sob escaped your lips, your throat raw and aching with each laboured breath. Daryl’s rough yet tender hands glided over your arms, across your shoulders, and into your damp, dishevelled hair. His touch was a mirror to your disarray. As you looked up, Daryl brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ears with a gentle precision, his gaze never leaving yours. His deep blue eyes held you captive, mesmerizing you, while the dim light cast shadows that accentuated the contours of his face.

More sobs wracked your body, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of tears. The imaginary shackles around your chest seemed to dissolve, allowing you to breathe freely once more. His method was effective.

“You’re doin’it, girl, I’m proud of ya,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clammy forehead, undeterred by the dampness. The kiss lingered, grounding you back to the present. When he pulled away, the absence of his warmth left your skin exposed to the chilly air, sealing the moisture from his lips onto your skin. This was a first—a tender, romantic gesture from him. The blush that crept over his cheeks and ears was mirrored by your own shaky, yet genuine smile. You yearned to voice your gratitude to the archer, but all you could manage was to nestle your head against his chest once more, closing your eyes and syncing your breaths with his. Your hand rested on his side, anchoring you as the room’s spin subsided.

Daryl’s free hand began to trace letters on your back. Instead of pain, the path of his fingertip left a trail of goosebumps, pulling you back to reality.

H-A-P-P-Y V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E-S.

He released one arm from around your waist and reached into his shirt pocket, pausing as he spoke.

“I carved something for you.” Daryl’s words were always sparse but laden with meaning. You were the only one privy to this side of him, a treasure you held dear. Each rare glimpse of his vulnerability was cherished, knowing the bravery it took for him to reveal himself.

Sitting up a bit more, you watched as Daryl retrieved a small object from his pocket, placing it in his palm and shifting it into the light for you to see. A gasp slipped through your lips, and you covered your mouth, a silent tear tracing your cheek at the sight of his gift.

An oak rose head, intricately carved.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said softly.

[hydrobunny]

 jump then fall (into me)

tags: fluff, established relationship, insecure reader, comfort, reo reo reo reo reo reo, lots of dialogue actually, they're drinking age, listen to jump then fall !! word count: 1.2k

“do you ever regret us?”

reo mikage jolts from his seat at his computer. the expression he fixes you with as he turns around is almost comical, all wide eyes and horror.

you can’t find it in yourself to laugh.

“what?”

you shift nervously. the satin sheets underneath you bunch awkwardly. “you know. getting together- staying together.”

he rises immediately, emails left for a later time. “what happened.” the words themselves should be a question, but his stiff tone doesn’t make it one.

you sigh, falling back on to the bed. although it’s only been two nights since the two of you checked in to this particular hotel, the bed already smells of reo’s expensive shampoo. “i dont know. sometimes i feel like i’m holding you back.”

his weight sinks into the mattress. “how the hell would you hold me back?”

you drag your hands over your face. “you’re just- you’re so you. heir to billions of yen, future ceo, hotshot football player, and you’re just barely in your twenties. shouldn’t you be out there in the wild getting into scandals every week? but you’re always just... here.”

“y/n.” even through tightly shut eyes, you can feel reo’s intense gaze on you. “is this really because you think i want to be out there making a fool of myself?” his hand gently brushes over your hair. “also, why would i get into scandals when i have you?”

you roll away with a groan. “it's not that. just- shouldn't you have had more relationships than just me? you know, all the first meetings and awkward flirting and shit.  you were popular as all hell in high school, but somehow you’re still with me? isn’t it boring?”

his hand freezes, and you feel a small inkling of guilt bleed through your heart.

after a long moment, reo rises from the bed without another word. He grabs his jacket from the chair as he pads out of the room, away from you.

you shove a pillow over your face and fight the urge to scream, sigh in relief, suffocate yourself, anything.

twenty minutes later, when you’ve reached a point of contemplating if those roses in the hotel vase are fake- (they’re in water, but you swear they smell exactly like those essential oils in scented candles)- your phone vibrates from its place on the desk.

you reluctantly lift yourself up, sliding your feet into your waiting fluffy slippers. reo’s computer is still turned on from before he left, some fancy computer program steadily running. you spot a hint of a message thread with nagi before you tear your eyes away.

the notification is from your messages, from none other than reo 🦎💜 himself.

the message itself is pretty short, unlike the usually wordy messages reo sends you consistently throughout the day.

come down to hotel bar. look nice

it takes you some time to actually comprehend the message, more than a few seconds spent blinking at it blankly.

and then you’re immediately digging into your suitcase for anything considered “nice.” honestly, did reo expect you to be able to procure outfits without any hint of the dress code? was he expecting family dinner or clubbing?

and what the hell was even with this request anyway? you were pretty sure your boyfriend had a business meeting in barely forty minutes, and it’s not like you two had ended your conversation on good terms.

either way, you settle on something in between wholesome and provocative, a pretty flattering cocktail dress you hadn’t really even planned on bringing. after a moment of contemplation, you leave your hair down, sliding in a pair of glittering earrings.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were trying so hard.

but when you arrive at the bar some minutes later, reo isn’t there. in fact, there’s no one there except for a stiff bartender slowly wiping down a glass. you hesitate from your place by the doorway, shooting off a here. dont see you? message.

he leaves you on read.

it takes you another six minutes of disbelief before you finally walk into the bar, and then it’s a short two minutes of fuming before you call for your first drink.

throughout it all, you see no hint of anyone; no reo, no drunk couples, no rich guests, no one. it would actually be kind of creepy if you had it in yourself to look around or care, but you really don’t.

ten minutes later, it’s when you’re nursing your second drink of the night ( a daiquiri that honestly is not getting you drunk fast enough ) that you hear another human voice.

“haven’t seen you before, pretty. can i pay for that drink?”

your mood immediately plummets as you turn with a scowl, ready to tell whoever it is enough curses to- oh.

reo smirks at you, flashing his card towards the bartender. you stare at him in disbelief. he’s in a completely new outfit from when you saw him last, something that is definitely not appropriate for his upcoming meeting. he has a leather jacket on, for gods’ sake!

“what the fuck are you doing?” you manage to say, realizing that you’re supposed to be mad at him. “do you realize how long i’ve been waiting?”

he pointedly doesn’t respond. “another round please, for me and the lonely lady!” he says before turning back to you. “so. what brings a girl like you here?”

you literally have no idea what he’s doing. you open your mouth to respond - with what, you couldn’t say- but then reo winks at you, quick enough that you barely notice.

the words fall out of your mouth without you even realizing. “what’s it to you?”

he hums, looking you up and down. “is it wrong to want to comfort a clearly sad stranger? come on, spill out all your secrets.”

you fight the urge to smile. “well, if you say it like that…i guess i’m trying to heal my broken heart.”

he responds a beat too late. “really? what idiot broke your heart?”

“no, i was the idiot,” you sigh, looking back towards your glass. “i was a bitch for no reason. got too caught up in my head, you know?”

his hands fly to yours. “i do know. and i’m sure your idiot knows as well. in fact, if i was the guy in question, i would have told you that nothing you can do would hurt me. that any time spent with you is infinitely better than time spent with any other women.”

you meet his eyes and smile. “and if you happened to be that guy, i would probably kiss you right then and there.”

reo swallows, hard. “yeah?”

you lean toward him. “too bad you’re not him.” you stand from your seat, grinning at how your boyfriend sputters instantly, almost knocking over his cup.

your shoes click clack a rhythmic beat onto the hotel floor as you head back toward the elevator.

seconds later, reo’s familiar form bumps into you, arm linking around your waist.

“i think that was first date was awkward enough, yeah?” he says breathlessly.

you lean further into him. “it was perfect. but i think i prefer my boyfriend.”

“good thing you’re looking at him. which means..”

you laugh, stopping. “which means this.”

you tiptoe upward and finally kiss reo. he tastes like watermelon chapstick and expensive rum.

// bonus//

“hey, reo?”

“yes?”

“did you rent out that entire bar so we would be alone?”

his silence is response enough.

I loveee reblogs and comments !! <33

[devilst0at]

I think Dale would smell nice but not in a typical fresh/cologne way, like I’m thinking expired grandma perfume, cheap patchouli/rose essential oil, a liiiittle bit of basement, old fashioned bar shampoo, dead flowers, mothballs, baby powder, old clothing type beat. Oh how I would love to stick my face in his hair or chest and just stay there