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rosepascal · 3 months

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Hustle || Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a great pool player but he's got a weakness, he's a man. Which makes him the perfect target. But lets just say Joel doesn't take kindly to being hustled.

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, rough sex, bathroom bar sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, Joel is a little mean, degradation, mirror sex, light choking, brat taming, creampie, unprotected sex but readers on the pill.

A/n: I finally got actual motivation to write Joel smut so i hope u enjoy <33 Reader is a pool shark and idk why but the idea of joel playing pool is so hot.

Joel Miller doesn't lose. Especially at pool. His dad taught him at an early age how to play and he would spend hours playing against Tommy in the garage. Once Tommy got sick of losing he ended up playing with friends.

Making a few bets and cleaned them out and continued in college. He doesn't play as much anymore but the skills never went away. He's confident, maybe a little cocky but he's got history to back it up. So when he has a pretty girl batting her eyes and asking him shyly for help, well he couldn't say no now could he.

You spotted him the moment you walked into the bar. He stood with confidence, drinking straight whiskey and barely saying a word as he played. You watched him for a while. He was good, but you're better. You watched as he sunk the 8 ball and smirked as his opponent handed him a fifty. Guys like him were the perfect target.

Put on a cute face, pretend to be bad and in desperate need of a mans help, then milk him for all he's got in his wallet. Flirting with him will be easy, he was undeniably sexy. The way his arms bulged out of his shirt, and that scruff, and fuck those hands.

You walk over to his now empty table, pulling down your dress a little lower and putting on your best innocent look. He watches as you walk over to him, a pretty thing looking out of place in this shitty bar like this.

"You're really good," You rest your hand on his arm and smile.

"Do you think you could show me how to play? I've always wanted to learn." Joel's eyes wander down and he smirks. You've got him hooked.

"Course I can sugar. Name's Joel." Joel downs his drink and gestures for you to play.

You put on a fake frown and bend over the table right next to Joel. Holding the cue stick wrong and aiming to the wrong spot you pull it back and miss wildly. Huffing you turn back to Joel who was shamelessly staring at your ass.

"See." Joel chuckles and walks over to you.

"Gotta hold it like this." You bend over and shake your ass a little to "reposition" as Joel grabs your hips.

"That's good, now hold it like this." He leans over you, wrapping his arms around you to help your grip. You pull back the stick and hit the ball.

"I did it!" You cheer. You lean back against him. You bite your lip when you feel his hard cock rubbing against your ass. His arms rub up and down yours.

"Good girl." Joel isn't like the other guys you've met before. His touch doesn't make you want to vomit, he's hot, and you have to admit that the flirting isn't all fake. After a few more shots and asking him to explain the rules, you offer to play a game.

"You sure?" Joel asks.

"Please? I think I'm really getting the hang of it. We can even put money on it, say 15 bucks?" Joel feels bad knowing it's not going to end well for you but he can't say no when you're pleading so sweet.

"Alright then, ladies first." You lean over the table and take your shot. As he expected Joel won pretty handily. He laughs as you pout and hand over the money.

"You did good honey,"

"How about another one?" You ask and he shakes his head.

"Just one more, we can up the stakes too." You place your hand on his chest.

"Say a hundred?"

"That's quite a jump." He crosses his arms and your eyes flick down to his forearms for just a moment.

"You scared Joel?" You ask teasingly.

"Alright honey, if that's what you want." He leans closer to you, pushing you gently against the table and tilts your chin to meet his eyes.

"You can go first." Joel smirks and takes his shot.

The balls scatter across the table. He gestures for you to go and you smile at him sweetly. Leaning over the table you sink a ball into a pocket with expert aim.

"Lucky shot I guess."

As the game goes on Joel's smile disappears. You are much better than you let on and as you sink yet another ball, he realizes he's getting played. You drop the innocent act when Joel manages to sink two balls in a row.

"Nice shot." He's face remains stoic as you play, his gaze makes you shiver. Soon it's down to the 8 ball for you. You call the back right pocket and take your shot. When it rolls in and falls into the hole you stand up and smile.

"Good game Joel," Joel stays quiet.

He's been hustled. He fell for your sweet talking and innocent act and now he's out 100 dollars. To be honest he's impressed. You got skill for sure. But Joel doesn't like being hustled. To him, you need to be taught a little respect.

At first you're nervous he's angry, some guys do not react well to losing. But then he smirks. He takes out his wallet and hands you a hundred.

"Good game sweetheart I'm impressed. Now tell me," He walks closer to you, leaning over until his lips are right next to your ear.

"You always been such a slut?" You know you should be offended but the way he whispers in your ear, it makes your thighs clench together.

"I'm not a slut, you're just a loser." You bite back. He chuckles and places his hand on your back.

"No? Tellin' me you don't go to bars, dressing like a slut and flirting with any man who'll give you the time of day?" You rest your hands on his chest and run them up and down. His chest is firm but he's got a tummy, fuck you wonder what he looks like without his shirt.

"Sounds to me like you're ego is a little bruised, I'm not surprised. Guys like you have such a big ego and..." Your eyes flick down to his crotch for a moment before looking back to him. "So little to back it up." You fake pout and run your finger down your face to mimic a tear.

"Oh honey, I'm not little." He growls. How bout we play another, double or nothing." You smirk and push him away gently. He walks back and notices the glint of lust in your eyes.

"Bring it."

Now the two of you were really playing, both of you focused on beating the other. It felt intense, especially when Joel insisted on staring you down as you took your shots. He's proving to be the most interesting man you've ever played. You watch his hands as they wrap around the cue stick. His fingers are so big. His muscles bulge in his shirt as he lines up his shot and he doesn't realize it but when he licks his lips as he thinks is so fucking hot.

Still, you're determined to win. The game goes on until its down to just the 8 ball for the both of you. You call the center pocket and take your shot. You silently curse as you hit the cue ball in the wrong spot. You watch as the 8 ball misses and you curse. The cue ball rolls and rolls and you watch it fall into the center pocket. With a groan you realize that Joel has won over a stupid mistake. You pull out the money and hold it out for him to take. He pushes your hand away and presses your hips against the table.

"Don't care about the money, I have something much more interesting in mind." His hands grab your waist and pull you into him. You whimper as he grinds his hips slowly against you. He really isn't little.

"You can walk out that door right now, keep the money I don't give a shit. Or you can get taught some fucking respect." He's giving you an out. He watches your face for any signs of uncertainty but you show none. You stuff the money in your bra and smile.

"I think you're all talk." You pull on his shirt until your faces are centimeters away.

Your lips ghost his jaw, nipping lightly as he closes his eyes and groans. He grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table and to the dark dingy bathrooms. He opens it and shoves you in. Locking it behind him.

"Last change honey," You bunch up your dress and pull down your panties, kicking them over to Joel who catches them. A dark look in his eyes.

"Turn around and bend over the sink, now." He commands. You do as he says but not without a little teasing. Shaking your ass at him. He stuffs your panties in his pocket and stalks over to you.

"Brats like you need to be taught a lesson." He pushes up your dress and grabs your ass.

"So you're an ass-" Your snarky comment is cut off by a sharp slap to your ass. You squeak as Joel spanks you. He sees your shocked look in the mirror and laughs.

"No ones ever put you in your place before have they?" You moan when he slaps your ass again, and again, and again. It hurts so fucking good. He doesn't hold back and you love every second of it. He shoves his fingers in between your legs, groaning at how wet you've become.

"Not a slut my ass." He mumbles as he slides two fingers deep inside of you. You whine as he fucks his fingers roughly, curling them so they hit the right spot.

"You like getting put in your place huh? Your greedy pussy is just sucking them right in."

"Oh fuck Joel, feels so good." You arch your back in pleasure, purring in delight at his dirty words.

"Say it," He grabs your throat and pulls you against his chest. Just enough pressure to make your head feel fuzzy.

"I-fuck, I'm a slut." He grins and presses his lips to your shoulder, your dress strap is sliding off your shoulder and Joel kisses where it was.

"So fucking hot," He groans. His fingers are unrelenting, you cry out as his thumb brushes your clit. The combination of his fingers and his thumb are too much for you to handle. He refuses to let up. Taking pleasure in every little sound that comes out of your mouth. The wild look in your eyes as he brings you to the edge.

"Be a good girl for once in your fuckin' life." If it wasn't for his grip on you, you'd be melting into a puddle right before him. Your legs shake violently as you come hard on his fingers. Your cunt clenches around them as Joel continues to fuck you.

"That's it," He gently lets go of your throat and you collapse onto the counter. Pleasure lingers as you catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You hear the sounds of a belt buckle and you see Joel drop his pants. He's stroking his cock slowly.

"I'm on the pill." You blurt out. Joel looks surprised but happy. Getting to fuck you raw is a dream come true.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror." You nod your head and turn your head back to the mirror. He pushes his cock through your thighs, getting it wet before he notches it at your cunt.

"Breathe honey," Your mouth hangs open as he slides in slowly.

"So tight." He huffs. He's so fucking big, it's like his splitting you open. He doesn't stop, he just keeps on going and going and it's taking your breath away.

"Feel good?" Joel taunts. He waits for a response but you're too focused on his cock inside of you to even hear what he said. Joel leans over you, pressing his chest into your back and wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Is a fat cock all it takes to shut you up?" He taps your cheek gently.

"Shut up and fuck me." You murmur.

"As you wish honey." He pulls back before slamming in.

He holds you in place as he plows into you. His cock etching its place in your cunt, claiming you as his with every thrust. You stare lazily into the mirror, you body still hasn't recovered from earlier and Joel isn't giving you any mercy. His brows are furrowed in an intense concentration as he pounds into you, using you like a toy.

"You're suckin' me in sweetheart, tell me do you like getting used like this?" Joel teases.

"I think you do, I think you fuck around with guys and hope one of them will finally put you in your place." He bucks his hips particularly hard which makes you groan.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Stick a cock in you whenever you want." He lets go of you and stands up, pushing your shoulders into the counter as his thrusts become sloppier. He begins to lose focus, you just feels so good, so wet, so tight. Just begging to be filled up with his cum.

"Can I come in you, please-fuck." Joel begs. The thought of you dripping with his cum is too much for him to take.

"Yes! Please fuck I want it so bad." You wail as he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him, fucking you wildly.

"Yes yes." Joel chants as he slams his cock deep inside of you, spilling into you with a tired sigh. He grabs your waist and helps you turn and sit on the counter so you can catch your breath.

"Fuck." You breathe as you pull your dress down.

"You finally learn some manners." Joel walks in between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly.

"I don't know, might need another lesson."

"I think I can do that, how about this friday." Joel asks.

"Pick me up at 7pm." You tell him. Joel smirks and lightly slaps your thigh.

"Oh and I'll take this back." He reaches into your bra and takes the hundred.

"Can I have those back?" You point to your panties hanging out of his pocket. Joel looks down at them and smirks.

"Lets play for it." Smiling you hop off the counter and head for the door.

"You're on."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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cheapshrimpysheep · 8 months

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Teaching You How to Swim

SUMMARY: You end up revealing that you can't swim/not swim very well, and the OctaTrio offer to teach you how to swim. You choose Azul to teach you. On the day of the lesson he found a secluded small cave to teach you.

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader 🐙🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WORD COUNT: 2.910 words

COMMENTS: This is for the @briarvalleyarchives “Summer Shoreline” event.

To be honest, the initial idea was to write about how each of the three (Azul, Jade and Floyd) would teach you to swim. But I ended up being so inspired and carried away just by Azul's part that I ended up deciding to stick just with him.

BTW: I was born and raised on the coast, so the beach, the ocean, and even rivers, are very close to me. I love swimming and especially diving. I'm just saying this to let you know that I wrote most of this from personal experience.

I hope you enjoy 😉

One day, you were in the Mostro Lounge talking to the trio and the Tweels comment that they would love to swim with you one day. And you end up revealing that you can't swim/not swim very well. Of course, they saw a deal opportunity.

They offered to teach you how to swim. After all, who better than a merfolk to teach you such a thing? They let you choose which one you would like to be your teacher and then you'll make a deal with him.

THE DEAL

“You want me to teach you?” Azul says “Of course! It will be a pleasure, an honor even.”

Despite all Azul’s confidence, you already know him, and something in his voice, a quick little tremor, made you realize that there was some kind of insecurity behind that answer.

The deal you two ended up making came as no surprise from Azul. You would work at Mostro Lounge for a month. And why a whole month?

“I pledge to teach you everything a landfolk would ever need to learn. After all, I will teach you things that could save your life. Don't you think a month is reasonable for such a thing?”

He had a point. But you wanted one more little thing from him. And you said you'd have a deal if he taught you to swim in his merman form. The Tweels started laughing derisively.

“Two months.” Azul trades back, slightly embarrassed.

“One month and one week.” you trade back

“A month and a half.”

“Deal.” You extend your hand for him to shake. He had that charismatic smile on his face. But when he's about to shake your hand, you take it away. “And what guarantees do I have that what you are going to teach me is really enough?”

The Tweels laugh derisively again. Azul himself cannot hide a small smile from the corner of his mouth. He puts his elbows on the table and laces his fingers in front of his lips. The way he's looking at you. Damn, he really knows what he's doing.

“Maybe we shouldn't spend so much time together. You are starting to learn too much from us.” Azul has an amused smile on his face. “We'll do it like this: If someday, something happens that proves that what I taught you wasn't enough, I'll provide you with underwater breath potions whenever you need them, for free.”

“With no limite? You really are confident in your teaching skills.” you comment.

“Of course I am. Are you, perhaps, the one not confident in my teaching skills? You hurt me.”

His little theatrics make you giggle, but you end up making the deal.

THE DAY OF THE LESSON

Azul found a perfect spot in the north of Sage's Island. Right underneath and behind Night Raven Collage. That beach to the west of the island was too close to the Royal Sword Academy. And a public place where you would risk being seen. Or rather, where he would risk being seen.

He chose a day when the sea was calm, obviously. And the place he found was a small cave.

You had brought your swimsuit under your uniform. You took off your uniform and when you looked back at Azul, he looked... indifferent. The truth is, he came from a place where everyone is practically naked and mermaids only wear a kind of bra. So, nothing much different from having only seen people in a swimsuit all his life.

“I must say that you choose a swimsuit that flatters you.” Azul comments.

“Thank you. How about you?”

“Me?”

“Our deal. You're going to teach me to swim in your merman form, as I recall.”

You see him getting embarrassed. He sighs. “Fine... Go into the water and turn around while I take off my clothes. If you please.”

You start to enter the water, which, surprisingly, is not very cold. The time it took for you to get into the water and get used to the temperature was enough for Azul to take off his clothes and get in the water. You are in an area where you can walk and you only hear someone entering the water. In a deep part to the point where you can't see him. You can see Azul’s clothes neatly folded on a rock.

You start looking around looking for him. You lean against the edge so he doesn't surprise you. You see a huge, dark spot in the water approaching you. And he slowly lifts his head out of the water to look at you.

“Satisfied?” He looks a little sulky.

“Quite.” You smile at him, which makes his embarrassment increase.

“Good... Now... the first thing to learn to swim is to trust the water.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what I've heard, the problem with most landfolks who can't swim is because they're afraid of drowning. They don't trust the water to make them float for example. You need to know how water works in your body to know how to use it.”

“And how do you train your confidence with water?”

“Floating.” He smiles, that smile to make you comfortable. He rises higher in the water, getting the water up to his stomach. “You will lie on the surface, like when you lie on your bed, and I will put my arms behind your back to support you. Merfolk kids love to do this when they go to play on the water surface. And we usually do it to rest.”

You seem not very trustful about it. “This is like how children on earth learn to ride a bicycle then?”

“Bicycles? That two-wheel vehicle? Really, I've always wondered how a person balances on that thing.”

“It also starts with a trust exercise.” you explain “There are bicycles for children to learn to ride that have two small wheels attached to the back wheel, so that the child can get used to the bicycle itself. When the parents think they are ready to remove these two little wheels, the parents hold the seat so that the child isn't afraid of falling. The trick then is to let go when the child is not looking. So when the child sees that they can ride without the help of their parents, they lose their fear and starts to ride alone.”

Azul laughs in amusement. “Interesting. And besides, I'm glad you have the notion that I'm going to let go of you at any moment.” he laughs “But don’t fret. I will only do it when I see that you already feel comfortable in the water. Shall we start?”

You first dive in to get completely wet and get used to the water temperature better. Then Azul places his hands on your back to support you as you lie down. The scary part is getting your feet off the ground. But you feel Azul's hands holding you. You see him above you, partially illuminated by the light from outside the cave.

After a while, you feel more comfortable with your feet on the surface. But you feel like you're still leaning too much on his hands.

“When you float, your ears always end up under the water.” he explains to you. “You must let your head relax. It may seem worrisome when water runs past your ears, but you need to trust that it won't get to your face. Oh, and another thing, try closing your eyes and relaxing. The more rested you are the more easily you will float.”

“It's a bit like quicksand then.”

“I've heard about those. But here you can always get on your feet. So don't be afraid. Water is not your enemy.” He's speaking so gently. So caring.

It's not that friendly tone he uses when talking to customers. Is different. Like he genuinely wants you to learn to swim. That you liked the water. That you liked his world. As if he wants you to, one day, be a part of his world.

You relax your neck, the water rushes past your ears and you no longer hear the outside, just muffled underwater sounds. It's worrying at first, but he was right, the water doesn't reach your face.

You closed your eyes mainly because, although the water doesn't cover your nose or mouth, it reaches a little bit from the tip of your eyes. So it's more comfortable to have them closed.

The sound of underwater is more calming than anyone could imagine. Which helps you to relax. You feel Azul’s hands stop pressing up your back slowly. But the reflex of you raising your head in fear of sinking in the water is inevitable.

“Trust that the water will not let you sink.” he reassures you “If you don't fight it, it won't fight back.”

Take some time until you feel completely confident in the water. But eventually it happens. And when that happens, you don't realize that Azul has let go of you for some time. You only realize when you feel him floating beside you.

You feel his hand holding yours. “Looks like the ocean is starting to fancy you too much.” You hear his voice underwater. You realize that the sea was pulling you a little bit and he’s just holding you for safety.

Or at least that was the case in the beginning. You begin to feel his hand caress yours with his thumb. And when you caress his back, he intertwines his fingers with yours.

You get tired of floating after a while and get back on your feet. The water only reaches your stomach and the same happens with Azul. But when you look down something is strange. You can't see his tentacles. And then you remember a little fun-fact about octopuses.

“Are you camouflaging yourself?”

He gets embarrassed again. “Uh? What? How do you-?... You haven't been researching octopuses, have you?”

Your face says it all. You may or may not have been looking for trivia and facts about octopuses because of him. And additionally about eels because of the twins.

“Wait a second! Does that mean you CAN do that instant camouflage thing?” Your eyes shine with curiosity and wonder, what makes him blush. “That's so cool!”

Despite the blush, he seems slightly upset about it. “Listen, it's just something we're born with. It's nothing special. You shouldn't praise someone for something like that.”

You apologize to him. Were you rude? Did you say something you shouldn't? And he realizes that you felt bad about it.

“I'm sorry. You didn't say anything offensive. It's understandable for a person who has never coexist with merfolks before. Well, to be honest, when I met Jade and Floyd they were a lot more callous about it. And they had no excuse, they are mermen too. But, I understand it can be something cool for those who have never seen it.” he smiles at you so you don't have to worry about it anymore.

“But... why are you doing it now? Are you uncomfortable?”

“*sighs* You know I don't like to show off my merman form. I'm only doing this because it's part of the deal.”

“Sorry.”

“Hmm? For what?”

“For making you do something you're uncomfortable with. It wasn’t my intention. You don't have to do it if you don't want to.”

“And have you working in Mostro Lounge for only one month?” he smiles amused

“Azul, you-”

“If I really was that uncomfortable, do you think I wouldn't have tried harder to modify the deal?” He speaks calmly and smiling. Then he takes a moment, sigh, close his eyes, relax his shoulders and you see something big and dark slowly appear under the water.

“I'm not uncomfortable around you. Don't think that. I just know that most landfolks don't think this is very...” you see a big black and purple tentacle come out of the water next to you. He looks a little sad at that part of him. “...pretty.” but then he looks at you puzzled. “But you already knew. So why ask me this? Why did you want to see me... like this?”

“This is your true form, isn't it? I love to know you. The real you. And to be honest I think you're quite handsome in any form, especially this one.” You make him blush again.

He looks to the side and seems to have seen something underwater. “Would you like to dive in a bit? Don't worry, I know you can't hold your breath for long. I will bring you to the surface as soon as you need to. I just think you'll enjoy to see something.”

He extends his hand to you, you take it. He pulls you in slightly and places his other arm around your waist. he pulls you into a part so deep you can't touch the ground anymore. But Azul is holding you.

“It's down here. Right below us. Don't worry, it's not too deep.” He speaks to you in a soft, affectionate voice. “Take a deep breath and relax, I got you.”

You take a deep breath and the two of you dive in. He holds your hand tightly and guides you just a little deeper. It's dark. Extremely dark. So much so that you would have started to get scared if he hadn't used his magic pen to completely light up that place. And a bunch of beautiful coloured corals appeared. With the surprise you ended up releasing a little more air and you were starting to need to get back to the surface. So you shake Azul's hand and point up. He immediately but gently pulls you to the surface.

“It's beautiful!” you say after catching your breath, hugged him since you were still in the deep water part of the cave. “I just wish I could hold out longer down there.”

“You wish~?” He grabs you around the waist and leads you back to the shallow end of the water. He is smiling charmingly at you. “Well, you know what the rumors say.” He gestures with the magic pen and a potion floats out of one of his coat pockets onto one of his tentacles. “I can grant any wish.”

You recognize the potion, it's the same vial he gave you to breathe underwater when you went to the Atlantica Memorial Museum. You reach up to take the potion, but he takes it out of your reach.

“Too bad this wasn't part of the deal.” he says with a theatrical sadness in his voice.

“Well, technically it was part of the deal.”

“You would not try to drown yourself on purpose. First because I know you're smarter than that, and second if it's done on purpose it's not valid.”

“I know.” you chuckle “Don't worry, I will never do that on purpose. Thought, you planned this didn't you?”

“You say that as if I were some kind of evil mastermind. *sniff* You hurt me.”

“Hu-hum. And you're going to tell me that you haven't already thought about a deal for that potion there?”

“Oh, don't be so mean. I promise it will be a fair deal.”

“If you want me to work one more week at Mostro Lounge, I'll turn down your offer right away.”

“*chuckle* I must admit that in a way it's more fun when your client sees right through you. Fortunately, I also thought you were going to say something along those lines.” He gets closer you, smiling... kinda... seductively. “You know, it may or may not have reached my ears that you have a crush on someone~ Would that be true?”

You don't even know what to answer. Does he know it's him?

“If it is... It may be mutual, you know...” then he gets slightly more serious “The truth. I think that's a more than a fair price for the potion.”

The truth. In fact, he's quite convincing. So you admit that you have a crush and that that crush is him. He gets closer and puts his arms around your waist, breaking the gap between you two. His nose almost touching yours and his eyes looking passionately into yours.

“So maybe you can fulfill a wish of mine. A wish of ours perhaps?”

He lets you kiss his lips and you feel the hug tightening. You feel his kiss needy, as if he can't get enough of you. But he knows when to part from the kiss.

“Maybe I need to start working on an exclusivity deal after this.” he comments, and brings the tentacle that holds the potion closer to you so you can take it.

He breaks the hug for you to drink the potion. And when you're ready, the two of you go back to diving, hand in hand. Now, you even have time to take a good look at Azul's merman form. You don't want to think he's... big. But compared to the two legs of his human form, those eight tentacles took up a lot of space.

You feel your lower body start to rise, and waving your legs to keep yourself upright is starting to wear you out. Azul is grabbing a rock with his tentacles. You pull yourself close to him and thank him to keep you upright.

Seeing you like this, hugging him, in the midst of those beautiful corals and the calming silence of the water, he can't resist kissing you again.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #briarvalleyarchives #Summer Shoreline

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alastorslittledoe · 2 months

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Alastor and Lucifer Taking Your Virginity

|| HeadCanon ||

Pairing: Alastor & Lucifer (x reader)

Tags: Smut, fluff, kissing, flirting, daddy kink, shy reader, dom!luci, dom!al

This was inspired by @hazelfoureyes

Pls pls pls go read their Alastor ‘The Big Part’ fic, it’s SO fucking good.

Pls request if you want me to make a full version of any of these or do HC for any of the others! 💕

Alastor had been watching you for a while, how you brushed off all the other attention from the male guests and overlords. You’d even managed to grasp the attention of Vox, which irked him. He’d been targeting the TV broadcaster more than usual, making fun of him on his radio show and almost twitching whenever his name left your lips. So, you can imagine his delight when you turned up at his radio tower, doe eyes laced with innocence.

“Al, I have kind of a…weird request”

He’d laugh, tilting his head with curiosity “How can I be of assistance, my dear?”

“Well, you know I got killed quite, uh, before my time, let’s say, and I thought…could you maybe, help me out with the uhm…sex part?” You shuffled in place, fiddling with your hands nervously, mumbling the last part quietly.

“What was that?” he grinned, he needed to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Sex” you blurt, a scarlet blush making its way over your cheeks “If you don’t mind, um…I want to learn because I’ve never…”

A shiver of pleasure would run through him. You, standing in front of him, practically begging for him to take the one thing no one else could ever have. It was almost too much for him to bare.

“Just so we’re clear, you want me to take your virginity, yes?”

He’d take further pleasure in watching you squirm for a moment before nodding.

“Yes, please”

His eyes would light up, and he’d immediately take your hand, transporting you to an ethereal looking plane, doused in black with a single bed in the middle of it all.

“Does this suit your needs?” He’d ask. As eager as he was, he knew it was important to ensure your upmost comfort.

When it came down to it, he was a lot more skilled than you’d expected. Though he’d like to ravage you and pin you down with his shadows, getting off on the control, he knew this would be painful. So he’d contain it. For now.

He’d place soft kisses along your skin, undressing you slowly before pushing you gently onto the bed. It was intimidating, watching the shadows whip around behind him, having him tower over you. But there was no denying the wetness between your legs.

He’d take you slowly, inch by inch.

When you were sure he was going to split you open, you’d place a hand on his chest to push him away, he would hook a leg under yours, swiftly disabling your movement no matter how hard you pushed.

“Ah ah, little doe, it’ll feel better soon, I promise”

You’d bite your lip, eyes watering looking up at him tearfully. He’d almost come undone at that look alone. But you’d nod for him to keep going.

He’d get off on your whimpers as he pushed in deeper, loving the fact that he was causing you such pain and pleasure.

When you finally took all of him, it would take everything in him to not let the animalistic part of him out and ruin you. But he’d manage to hold it in. There was always time for that later.

Now you were his.

He’d be gentle after the fact, simply content that he’d spilled his seed in you, a sign of ownership without any deal. Now he’d truly gotten something Vox would never lay his hands on. He’d kill him if he tried.

Lucifer would blink at you, mouth agape as you stood before him.

“You want me to…take your virginity?”

You’d blush, biting your lip “If you wouldn’t mind, Luci”

“Of course Y/N” he’d chuckle “but you’re sure this is what you want?”

You’d nod, breath catching in your throat “Yes, please”

He’d be unable to stop the grin spreading across his face “As the lady wishes”

Suddenly you’d be in his arms bridal style and he’d smirk down at you “Just showing you what it’ll be like tomorrow when you can’t walk”

You’d stare at him, speechless as he walked you to your room and gently laid you down on the bed.

He’d start slowly, foreplay is incredibly important to him. He knew there was no way you’d be able to take him without some coaxing from his fingers to stretch you out first.

Lucifer would completely focus on your pleasure, eating you out for a long time and slowly adding more fingers in you until he’s satisfied you could take him.

He’d make sure pillows were underneath you, ensuring there would be pleasure for you, though he knew it’d be incredibly painful first.

He would pause every so often to ensure your consent was still there.

When he first pushed his head into you, a yelp would escape your lips and he’d freeze, waiting for your heated breaths to calm.

“My love, we can stop-“

“No no” You’d look at him lovingly, wincing “you’re just” you glance down at him, barely inside you “really big”

He’d laugh breathlessly, taking the compliment before pushing the rest of his head in, biting his lip hard. How was he supposed to not blow his load two seconds in when you looked so innocent, trying so hard to take him.

He’d let his kink slip out pretty quickly.

“Cmon, princess” he’d growl gently “you can take the rest of daddy’s cock, can’t you?”

That would ignite something in you that you had no idea existed. And almost immediately, you’d feel a yearning to please him, to take all of him just for the praise.

When you did manage to take all of him, he’d kiss your neck lovingly, nipping at the skin.

“What a good girl, doesn’t it feel good? Having all of me fill you”

It did. It felt incredible. Your pussy still throbbed around him, protesting at the intrusion. But there was also waves of pleasure coursing through you, both from knowing he was inside you and the physical pleasure of feeling so full.

When he had shown you exactly how to cum with him inside you, paying expert attention to your clit and breasts, he’d shower you in kisses and affection, telling you just how good you’d taken him.

True to his word, you couldn’t walk the next day and he carried you around the entire time, despite your embarrassment.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox smut #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin smut #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin oneshots #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin headcanons #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lucifer

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arielstruggles · 7 months

Text

The Dawn of Regret

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem reader

Summary: You have a crush on Joel Miller and he becomes your patrol partner.

W.C: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut (mdni), P in V sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), Katoptronophilia, praise kink, slight dirty talk, breeding kink, big fat age gap (reader is 26 Joel is 56), angst.

A/N: Happy kinktober folks!. I love angst so i incorporate it in everything :| sorry. I honestly don't know if this will be a one shot or not, we will see. I'm sorry i'm not the best for descriptions. And if i have any grammar mistakes, sorry in advance i am not a native English speaker. Anyway, if anyone reads it, let me know your opinions, love you bye!

ch2 ch3

You and Joel have known each other for quite some time now. It has been roughly four months that him and Ellie decided to stay in Jackson, instead of trying to find the Fireflies. Since then, they were joining you at different tasks. Ellie was too young to join the patrols without a training but Joel, as a 56 years old, fearless man; he was the perfect fit. Well, obviously he was a mass murderer too but it was helpful in this situation. But other than that you were nothing to each other. Just a couple of “Hello”s and “How is it going”s here and there. But you couldn’t help to feel attracted to him. Normally, you were teaming up with Maria and Joel was teaming up with Tommy but Tommy and Joel decided that they were "sick of each other" so Maria came up with the solution that you were supposed to team up with Joel. It caught you off guard. You were so used to went on patrols with Maria that you didn't know what to do exactly. Not that you were unable to protect yourself or anything. You were living in Jackson for more than two years now and before that you basically learned how to survive on your own. No, it was not a doubt that came from your skills, it was because of Joel.

You were a little bit, just a little bit intimidated by his presence. He was not a chatty, lively man. His brows were mostly furrowed, well he was grumpy to say the least. Not that he was rude or mean towards you. On the contrary he knew where to stand. So, he sort of knew when to be nice which was obviously not around you. But you were not sure if you were okay where he was standing, you wanted more. He was a handsome man, grumpy old man to be fair but it didn't take anything from his charm. His broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, the dimple on his cheek which is a shame that you could barely see since he was not laughing around you that much. He was big and strong. His hands, his fingers... The thought of it showed itself as dampness on your panties. You were feeling guilty for dreaming about him from time to time but in your defense, who would not? Gosh those Fingers. “What would happen if he wrapped them around my throat?" you thought, on the couch where you were lying at the moment. "What would happen if he kissed me, or better bite me?" you get so worked up that dipped your fingers inside your panties.

After you came imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of yours, a wave of warmth washes your whole body. You are feeling so guilty. You are about to go on a patrol with this man and you masturbated, in your couch, thinking of him. And you had no idea how he felt about you, you saw him flirting with women before in the Tipsy Bison however none of them were as young as you. They were mostly older than forty. You are in your mid-twenties. Also, you know the fact that he had a daughter which if she was alive would be older than you so this was both unethical and impossible. You shake your head due to your own stupid thoughts and realize that it' almost three a.m. that means Joel and you are about the meet in an hour. You fix your clothes and decide to make yourself a coffee, you have limited supply of coffees so even though you really love it you can't drink as much as you want to but tonight, or this morning to be precise, you need to.

While you sip your coffee with the shame on your shoulders you hear a knock on your door, you leave your mug on the table and walk towards the door. “Who is that?” you ask, even though the low and husky tone makes it clear that it is Joel, you are just trying to be careful. “It’s Joel. I was just checking you if you were awake.” To hide the reflection of that stupid grin on your voice, you clear your throat “Yes, I am.” You can’t help the heat that rises from your core. “Okay, be outside of your door in 30.” He says and you hear footsteps fading away. You realize you didn’t even open the door, let alone kindly inviting him but it was probably for the best. You still feel warm and fuzzy because of your Joel fantasies. You grab your coffee and sip the rest while thinking of him.

Once you’re done with your coffee, you step outside of your door with you backpack on your back and gun in its holster, waiting for Joel. After a while his big figures approaches which makes you feel giddy. You curse under your breath for feeling like a high schooler who sees their crush. “Mornin’” he rasps, “morning” you say in return. “We’re heading towards east this time. Tommy claims. There are riders.” It is obvious by his tone that he mocks with his brother. You nod as a response to his explanation and you both start walking. You know, silence is better to search the area but it makes you so uneasy. You want to talk to him desperately. “So, why you and Tommy decided to not to be partners anymore?” you ask, your tone is louder than you expected. “You wanna get attention of clickers or sumthin?” he is not mad, it’s his usual grumpiness but still you feel ashamed. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “sorry.” You murmur, this time your tone is quiet. “He was being a pain in the ass, I’m sick of his bullshit.” He answers your question without looking at your face, you are grateful for that. You hum in return while you keep on walking. It’s still dark outside and cold. You wish you were in your warm bed. But the man who is walking right beside you seems so unbothered. He doesn’t care about the cold or how dark it is. It is as if he is living for the sake of living. You study his demeanor, trying to be sneaky. “Is there sumthin on my face?” “no, i- I’m sorry.” “well, you should focus on the road not me.” his tone is amused this time, not annoyed, not grumpy. You see a smile dancing around his lips, it is not a smile but it’s the best you got which sort of encourages you. “I can do both” “Aren’t you sumthin?” he chuckles, you made him smile.

That little conversation is all you need for you to have a crush on Joel. Not that you had not anything towards him but it was not a strong feeling whatsoever. But the moment you were able to make him smile. Well, it worsens the situation. For the rest of the road, you are mostly quiet. The sun is about to rise, the sky is turning into a lighter shade of blue. The birds chirping. It almost sounds peaceful. In the middle of an apocalypse. You can’t help but laugh audibly. Joel turns towards you with a questioning look on his face. “I was thinking how peaceful it felt. The sky seems so pretty, birds are chirp-“Joel covers your mouth with one of his hands and yanks you to a tree trunk which sends a shock to your body. While you try to grasp what is the reason behind this, he gestures with his other hand to be quiet. You nod in return and both of you listen carefully. You hear the clickers around. High pitched screams of a bunch of them fill the woods. It’s disturbing. You are grateful for it though, it distracts you from thinking how close your bodies are, how one of his hands is on your mouth. After he gives you the que you wait in silence, you kill them one by one. “Morning exercise I guess.” You say. “Yeah, right.” He replies grumpily and rolls his eyes. Here he is again, the Joel you are familiar with. It is saddening honestly. Witnessing a side of him which he only shows people whom he really cares and trusts, which you crave to be one.

You look at your pocket watch it reads 8.45. Morning sun shines through the sky, it is warmer than a couple of hours earlier. You still have more than three hours and frankly, after your last unsuccessful attempt to make him talk, you give up. Morning sun hits his face in a way that invigorates his handsome features. You want to reach his face and caress his cheeks, kiss tip of his nose. Of course, you can’t do any of that, how could you? You don’t even know him, he doesn’t even know you. It’s just your hormones talking, you assure yourself. “Cat got your tongue?” he questions your silence. “Huh?” “You seem lost in your thoughts. You were chatty earlier.” “I thought you would be annoyed if I talk too much.” “Yeah, you thought that right.” Well, he is honest at least. You don’t say anything back. He breaks the silence when you find an old shed. “I know this is safe, I’ve been there before you wanna rest a bit? Before heading back to Jackson?” even though staying in a small space with Joel for a couple of hours seems like not a good idea your feet hurt from all that walking and fighting with clickers was draining so you decide it’s for the best “Yeah, sure.” He opens the door and checks out the shed just in case then nudges his head for you to get inside. There is a mirror at the corner. It has cracks here and there and sort of rusty but you can see your reflection.

You sit on a moldy couch, it’s not the best thing to sit but at least better it is than floor. He sits right next to you, you are pretty close to each other. This surprises you but considering it is the only somewhat comfortable thing in this place it should not. The silence is too loud. You want to speak, to say something but you don’t know what to say. It’s as if you forgot how to talk, as if all the words in you have lost their meanings. The hand on your thigh jerks you awake from your thoughts. You look at his hand on your thigh then his eyes. He looks at you as if he is about to devour you. Even if you dreamt about this before, it feels different when he really touches you. You feel shy all of a sudden. “Darlin’ you thought I didn’t realize how you look at me?” his raspy tone sends shivers down on your spine. You want to give in and let him fuck you senseless but a part of you still wants to resist. You clearly have no idea how this thing is going to work or what he really wants. “What? You must be dreaming Joel.” You chuckle nervously. “I most certainly am not.” His hand moves up and up till your crotch but he doesn’t touch there yet. “Tell me darlin’” he leans on your ear, his breath tickles your neck, you’re sitting side by side but you want him on top of you. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop.” “Fine, okay. I want you.” you try not to sound so desperate but the last part of your sentence comes out as whining. “Atta girl, was that so hard?” he murmurs and cups your crotch through your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers, not yet. He leaves wet kisses all over your neck. You do something bold and climb on his thigh. His large hands find their places on your waist. You kiss him deeply. Your tongues dance with harmony. You get wetter with each passing second and press yourself on his thigh a little more. He moans into your mouth. “Naughty, naughty” a smirk spreads across his mouth. You grind on his thigh more and more; the tension is unbearable at this point. “Joel, do something!” you burrow your face in the crook of his neck “Do what darlin?” “Fuck me Joel.” Your voice comes muffled. You bite down on his neck. he cradles you and take you in front of the mirror which you saw earlier. You are confused. “What are you doing?” you ask him. “Just want you to see everything.”

You are standing before the mirror; Joel is pressed behind you. His cock is nestled between your ass cheeks. His movements are slow, you still have a couple of hours left and everywhere seemed clear so you can take your time. But you are so restless. He takes off your coat, then your shirt, then your bra. You’re half naked. Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You are as much eager as Joel. He cups your right tit. His calloused fingers brush your hardened nipple while he licks your neck. You gasp with the overwhelming feeling. You’re dripping cunt flutters against nothing. You want him inside. “Joel” you moan. He bites your shoulder in return. You both watch your reflections in the mirror. You take one of his hands that are on your waist and slide it into your panties, he takes the hint, an amused laugh leaves his lips but he does not want to tease you so he starts toying with your clit while leaving wet kisses all over your shoulders and neck. While his thumb circles around your clit and he dips his middle finger to your hole. “Aren’t you a slut, hm? Waiting for me to fuck this hole of yours?” You moan to the vulgarity of his words. He adds a second finger, hitting just the right spots. The overwhelming sensation takes over your whole body, you feel weak in the knees and rest your back against his chest more and more. At this point you look like a body with two heads. You feel your first orgasm is about to hit. “Joel ‘m close, I’m so close.” You coo, “let it go baby girl. You’re such a good girl for me, let it go darlin’” he whispers to your ear. You don’t even hesitate to ruin his fingers with your cum. He takes his fingers off of you and licks them. You see the reflection in the mirror. It feels so unholy. You feel as if a sinner, for letting a man who’s the same age as your father, if he was alive, to finger fuck you. “Now darling, I want more. I want to my cock in that sweet pussy of yours. I want to eat you out.” “Yes Joel, please.” Your voice sounds so needy that you cringe. “I want you to watch baby girl. Every second of it.”

He lays down his coat to the floor and then lays you down on it. Unbuttons your jeans and strips down the rest of your clothes. He starts kissing your neck and makes his way down while leaving kisses on your torso. His tongue finds his way on your clit, it moves with ease. You grip a fist full of his hair and press him against your pussy more. The warmth of his tongue mixed with the warmth of your pussy sends shock waves to your body. He eats you out with such ease and pleasantly. Your moans fill the old shed. Then Joel stops, “time to take my cock darling’” he coos and unbuttons his jeans. Cold air hits your glistening folds, makes you shiver. He takes off his jeans and boxers. His fat cock is up against his belly. Your mouth waters, you want to take it to your mouth. He catches your hungry eyes. “Next time darling’”. His tip shines with pre cum. He is hard as a rock. He checks on the mirror, to see your reflections, you do the same. You can’t name the feels in you at the moment because it feels nice. He leans on your body and aligns his cock with your entrance. “You ready?” you nod eagerly. It has been a while-3 years to be precise- since you last got laid and you don’t have that much experience but you want to hide this fact from Joel. Once he pushes himself inside you, you scream. Then you adjust to his size and he picks up his once slower pace. “So wet and tight for me. So pretty.” He mutters in your ear. “good girl, aren’t you a sweet girl for me, darlin’?” you nod, he grabs you by the throat, “Answer me!” his tone is demanding, his gaze is dark. “Yes, yes Joel” you answer but frankly, you don’t even know what was he saying. Your hips move in sync. He is close “Where do you want me to come, darling?” “Inside” you say. You come together. He fills you up. After you’re both done, he lays on you. You wrap your arms around his torso. It feels so intimate. You have so many questions you want to ask. But you don’t know how he will respond. You clearly have a crush on him but you are not sure if he feels something towards you or if it was just a bodily pleasure. You decide to wait for him to take the first step.

You lay there for almost half an hour. Then he speaks “It’s almost 11 a.m., we better get going.” You can’t tell if he sounds distant or not. He helps you to get up and you wear your clothes and he does the same. You leave the shed and head towards Jackson. He does not talk; you don’t want to talk as well. But you have more than two hours of walking distance so after a while you are so bored of silence and curiosity eats you alive. “what’s gonna happen now?” you ask expecting for him to say something positive. “Nothing.” he almost barks. You are stunned by the tone of his. “Oh?” is all you can say. “Look, it was a mistake, I shouldn’t be so reckless. You forget what happened, I’ll do the same.” It hurts you. He is so blunt and there is no emotion behind his words. You feel so stupid for even thinking this could have led to something. You feel tears sting to your eyes but try to hold them back. You have no intention to feel smaller in front of this monster of a man. You are unsuccessful though. He hears you sniffing, does not look at you. He does not want to feel more guiltier than this. “Now, don’t cry on me.” he wants to sound harsh; he wants you to hate him so that you will never like him. It does not help. He wants you to be safe and being closer to him is not the safest option.

You can see Jackson, you’re close. That means you can go to your home and cry for hours. Your sadness leaves its place to anger. “You know, you are a disgusting man. You gave me hope and now you’re leaving me like this.” You know that is not the truth but you want to hurt him. “You are right about that. But I didn’t think you could be this naïve to fall for me.” “You deserve to die alone! If your daughter knew all this, she would’ve hated you.” You can see the burning flame in his eyes. For a second you think he will smack you across your face but he does not instead he grabs your arm tightly. “Just because we fucked does not mean you are something to me. You are clearly desperate for attention. You want someone to love you. But that ain’t me. You’re nobody.” He leaves your arm and walks towards his home. You stand there like a fool you tried to hurt him but he did it. You start to walk as well, Maria approaches you. “So, how was your patrol? You seem pale.” “It was okay, a couple of clickers, nothing unusual.” Your voice cracks, she looks at you worriedly. “please, I don’t want to talk.” You explain and she nods. You open your door and enter your house. The moment the door shut closed you start crying.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #kinktober #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #fanfic #joel miller angst

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kaorusan241 · 1 year

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Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader | Headcanons

og screenshot: @rimaeternax

He redefines the meaning of ‘jealous’. He obsesses over the thought of Ominis knowing something about you that he doesn’t.

“Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he'll change his mind. Is that it? There has to be more to it than that. Tell me.”

The jealousy is particularly hard for him to stamp down when it involves Ominis, because he is well aware of all the brilliant traits and abilities his best friend possesses.

If he wasn’t so determined, and if Ominis was less of a pacifist, he might have conceded defeat. But that’s not who Sebastian is. He knows that the end justifies the means.

To cast the Cruciatus Curse, he has to mean it. There’s a thin line between love and hate, and Sebastian channels that.

This is the first time he’s felt genuine romantic feelings for someone, he’d previously seen it as just a means to an end... a way to get people to do whatever he wanted.

He learns everything he can about you, to the point that it’s almost annoying. He even tries to read your diary, but you’d already cast protective enchantments on it. He finds himself more impressed with your skill than irritated by it.

He claims that he does things for you to keep you ‘in his debt’, but actually he just likes knowing that he is the one making you happy, no one else.

Nothing can stop Sebastian from devoting himself to the dark arts. If you’re driven away by his increasingly disturbing views, he’ll only blame someone else for ‘leading you astray’. If you’re killed, he won’t see it as a personal failure, but as a reason to seek endless vengeance. He’s accountable to no one - except you.

You’re drawn to the dark arts, but don’t want Sebastian to get himself killed. You toe the line, finding yourself capable of doing loathsome things, anything to keep him alive.

You worry about what might happen once you leave school, and no longer have Anne and Ominis around. You don’t trust yourself, know that you’d probably do whatever Sebastian asked of you.

Sebastian doesn’t give up on those he loves. Once a cure for Anne has finally been found, in seventh year, he shifts his focus.

Deep down, he’s terrified of you leaving him, because he doesn’t believe that anyone else is powerful enough, or worthy enough, to protect you.

Anne finds Sebastian’s shift in attention incredibly amusing, wondering how much he must have suppressed his feelings while he was focusing on finding the cure.

He’ll do things like wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin while you’re at dinner, seemingly unaware that he’s even doing it.

These soft moments are exclusive to you, but you find yourself becoming jealous of the way he casually uses a flirty tone with others. He doesn’t view it as flirting at all - in his mind, you’re the only one worthy of his attention. The others barely register to him.

He’ll stop at nothing to make sure you don’t come to harm. His parents’ unexpected deaths plague him more than he cares to admit.

He suffers from nightmares most nights. You hear this from Ominis first, but don’t experience it for yourself until you’re forced to share a room in a nearby village while out exploring. Guttural, heart-wrenching screams have you scrambling to wake him up, smoothing his hair as he shakes and tries to slow his breathing.

Sebastian only allows you to call him ‘Seb’ when he’s at his most vulnerable.

You ask him at one point what he dreams about, and he admits that he has visions of you, Ominis, and Anne being tortured in front of him, his own body that of a small child with no magic, forced to watch, helpless.

He doesn’t push you to learn dark magic, but secretly hopes that you’ll join him, dreams on his better nights of how it might feel if you cast Imperio on him.

Your first kiss, predictably, is a result of Sebastian’s endless jealousy. You’re at the Three Broomsticks together one afternoon laughing and drinking, when you feel a tap on your shoulder - Garreth Weasley. Sebastian can’t hide his distaste. He’s seen how Weasley follows you around in potions, and despises it. He’s nowhere near your equal.

You gently approach him as you’re walking back to the castle together, asking what’s wrong, why he hates Garreth so much. Sebastian snaps, not understanding how it’s possible that you don’t notice the disgusting way Weasley looks at you.

As you reach the undercroft to train, Sebastian feels restless, untethered, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that you could leave him, that you don’t belong to him. You’ve been doing more quests with other people lately, and after all, isn’t that the only thing keeping you together? He’s pacing, agitated.

You say his name, and he snaps his attention towards you, striding up to you with purpose and grabbing your face with his hands, trying to express everything he feels for you with his lips.

At one point, Imelda mentions that he never seems to do much for his girlfriend. He frowns, having never paid much attention to other couples.

In response, he goes a bit overboard - organising for hundreds of roses to be delivered to your dorm room, leaving chocolates on your bed during your period, chaperoning you between your classes.

Eventually, after a lot of reassurance, he begins to believe that you’re just as devoted to him, as he is to you, and that none of those things are necessary. He still does a few of them occasionally, because he loves the way you blush at the extra attention.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #harry potter universe #headcanon #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #kaorusan241 writes

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

This was requested by anon, but I'm not including the request because I'm going to write at least one more part and I don't want to spoil anything. But thanks so much for requesting, anon my love! I'm really having fun with it :) Also, just a disclaimer that I know next to nothing about figure skating, so while I tried to look most things up, there may be some inaccuracies

summary: when your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

cw: mention of injury (no details), Sirius Black is a relentless flirt

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 3.3k words

You want to be kinder to your friend, but you’re a bit angry with him. You’re not great at hiding it, either.

“It’s not like I can fucking help it.” Regulus rolls his eyes, and you do your best to undo the petulant pout of your lips.

“I know,” you sigh. “I know that. I’m sorry, it’s just, seriously? Why can’t Coach give me someone else?”

“You know why.”

You blow out another huffy breath, because you do know, but that doesn’t make you like it any better. Sirius is our best bet, your coach had told you, firm and impassive to your protests. He’s great on the ice, he always scores well, and Reg can teach him the routine while they’re at home. If we used anyone else, we’d lose time while they learned it. You’d sulked, and he’d given you a stern look. So suck it up.

And you’re trying. Kind of. You wouldn’t ordinarily consider yourself an ill-tempered person, but Sirius Black brings out the worst in you. Always has. He’s Regulus’ irritating older brother, always around to pull your pigtails when you were little and make fun of everything you and Reg enjoyed as you got older. And in everything you love about your best friend, Sirius is the opposite. Where Regulus is restrained, Sirius is brash; where Regulus is content with a few close friends, Sirius needs an entire posse around him at all times; where Regulus has a quick, quiet wit, Sirius seems to feel a joke isn’t worth telling if everyone can’t hear it. He’s loud and facetious and insufferable, and now he’s your partner in the most intimate routine you’ve ever done.

“I know,” you groan again, falling back onto Regulus’ bed. “I just wish I could change it. Who do I have to bribe to get you a miracle recovery?”

Regulus scoffs, but he lies down beside you sympathetically. “The doctor said it should be better by next season, but a fractured ankle doesn’t fix itself in a couple weeks.” His voice turns bitter. “Trust me, I asked.”

You wince guiltily. You’re not the only one suffering from Regulus’ incapacity. You’d both been practicing this routine for weeks. It was one of the most challenging and showy either of you have ever done. You were both supposed to have the chance to really shine, showing off your skills with complicated jumps and throws, some of which you’d never attempted before. But now Reg wouldn’t get the change.

Ironically, it had been a fairly simple routine that had taken him down. One of your go-tos. You’d been performing it together for years, but maybe that sense of security was dangerous too. It’s too easy to land wrong, and one tiny slip had fractured Regulus’ ankle right in the middle of competition, forcing your coach to come help you get him off the ice.

You’d cried more than he had as the on-site medics had inspected it, completely unhelpful but unable to bear seeing your best friend’s features twisted in agony. It turned out that was nothing compared to the look on his face when they’d told him he wouldn’t be able to skate on it for months.

“How does it feel?” you ask, more gently now, and Regulus’ scowl softens in response. “Does it still hurt all of the time?”

“Not really, only when I walk on it. And they said I should be able to do that without much pain soon, just no jumping or anything.”

Your heart aches with sympathy, and you have to resist the urge to reach over and touch his hand, his hair. Regulus has never much liked being touched, which you understand, but it makes him a difficult person to comfort. You resort to your method with the highest success rate: distraction.

“Well, at least the cast is a fun accessory,” you say, forcing levity into your voice. “We could draw on it, it’ll be like having tattoos.”

“Pass,” Reg replies disinterestedly. “Tattoos are more my brother’s aesthetic than mine.”

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes, unable to stopper your irritation at the return of the conversation to Sirius. “Do you think Coach will let me have a new partner if I kneecap him?”

“If you’re going to kneecap someone,” comes a cool voice from the open doorway, “it’s probably best not to ponder your scheme so loudly in their house.”

You raise your head to find Sirius leaning against the door frame, arms crossed insouciantly in front of his chest. He looks at you with the eyes he shares with his brother, but where Regulus’ tend towards cool grayness, Sirius’ always seem to waver between gray and blue, like the sky during a storm. They’re flashing now, amusement mingled with cunning, as you meet them with a glare.

“Maybe I’m just giving you a red herring,” you say smoothly, “so you’ll never see my actual plan coming.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, shortcake,” Sirius replies, grinning when your face goes hot at the nickname, “but I think I’ll start wearing protective gear just in case. Reg, think you could revoke this one’s key until after the competition?”

Regulus pretends to contemplate this, staring up at the ceiling. “No, she’ll only start coming in through my window again.” You grin at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in response, remembering all the cuts and bruises you used to have when you were younger from climbing the old tree outside his window, late at night when you were both supposed to be asleep. The first few times you’d tried, rotting branches had broken and fallen from beneath you, but you’d kept at it until you’d plotted a safe course. You’re sure Reg would have snuck downstairs to let you in the front door if you’d ask him, but better you get in trouble than him. “Anyway, it’ll be entertaining to watch.”

“Whatever happened to brotherly loyalty?” Sirius feigns hurt, but gets past it quickly. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to keep in mind that if I can’t perform, there won’t be a performance. I’ve already learnt half the routine, and I think you might struggle to find someone else skilled enough to catch up in time.” He winks at you, and you scoff, pointedly unaffected. “So I’ll see you at practice on Monday, sunshine,” he gloats, and disappears down the hallway.

You wait until you hear the click of his door to lay back down, passing a hand over your face exhaustedly. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with that all of the time,” you moan.

Regulus chuckles wryly. “Welcome to my world.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/N,” Coach calls frustratedly. “You have to let him throw you, not jump.”

You’ve almost just followed in Regulus’ footsteps for the upteenth time today, which isn’t exactly in line with your plan of getting Sirius injured, but you figure will do in a pinch. The truth is, your focus has been off all day. Switching to a new partner is always hard; you’re used to Regulus, you’ve spent years learning how to skate together, to anticipate the other’s movements, and finding that rhythm with another person takes work. But learning how to skate with Sirius is more challenging than even you had expected. He’s distracting, for one thing. He keeps smiling at you, making faces when you mess up, and whispering obnoxious little pointers when you’re in the middle of a complicated move. And his own movements are bigger and more elaborate than you’re used to, lacking Regulus’ control. You can see, objectively, how it works for him. It gives his performance that extra bit of artistry that Regulus has often been accused of needing, but it makes him more difficult to anticipate. He’s stronger than Reg, too, so he throws you higher, flings you farther, grips you tighter. It’s a lot to learn, but your coach doesn’t seem very sympathetic to your plight. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve wasted almost an entire day of practice and are undoing weeks of hard work learning the choreography with your repeated mistakes.

You nod at him again, moving to reset, but Sirius slides in front of you.

“Hey,” he says, “I can feel you tensing when I go to throw you. Is something wrong?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, breath still puffing into the air between you from the exertion of your leap. “No,” you reply shortly. “I’ll fix it.”

And really, you should have been able to fix it a dozen tries ago. You’ve practiced throws with Regulus for years now. You’re supposed to push down on Sirius’ shoulders, use the momentum of your spin to give you a little boost, and let him do the rest. But you can’t seem to manage the last part. Sirius’ hands on your waist had discomposed you from the first try, and you keep finding yourself trying to jump off the ground before he has a chance to lift you. It doesn’t work, you know it’s never going to work, but it’s like some fight-or-flight instinct takes over every time Sirius’ hands get close to you. You suspect it’s because you’re so used to Regulus’ touch aversion; this routine is meant to seem romantic, but between the two of you, it had always felt chaste, more about the mechanics of the movements than the meanings behind them. Sirius loves to be touched, though, probably too much. He teases you about how cold your hand is in his, the tentative way you touch his shoulder when you’re supposed to grip it, how you jolt a little when he rests his hand on the small of your back. You’re on edge every second he’s around you, which by the very nature of the routine, is often.

And so you keep jumping, which causes Sirius’s throw to be stunted when he can’t get a good grip on you, which causes you to fumble your landing. Every. Time.

“You can trust me, you know,” Sirius persists, looking half earnest for once in his life. “I’m not going to launch you too high or anything. Just let me do the work.”

“I’ve got it,” you growl, and Sirius raises his hands in mocking surrender, moving out of your way. You glide back into position, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You don’t need his advice, you’ve been doing just fine without it for years. You’ll get it on your own.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Why is it,” Regulus drawls, coming into your room, “that when you mess up at practice, it’s still my problem to solve?” He sits on the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb the open bottle of nail polish you’re using. “I’m not even your partner right now, but both Coach and Sirius are complaining to me that you can’t sync up with him.”

You keep your eyes on your fingertips, sweeping the brush across your nails in careful, measured strokes. “I’m working on it.”

“What’s the problem?” He sounds more puzzled than frustrated. “Sirius is annoying, but he’s not actually an asshole. He won’t sabotage you.”

“I’m not accusing him of anything,” you say. “I just…I can’t get it right. I don’t know. He’s so different to you, and I can’t figure out how to make it work.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Regulus replies, not without sympathy. “There’s only a couple of weeks until comp, and it seems like the both of you will need all the practice you can get together.”

You know he’s right, and that’s exactly what you’re dreading.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next practice goes about the same, the only difference being your coach’s mounting exasperation. Actually, no, there is one other change: Sirius’ movements become smoother, more sure, as he grows increasingly familiar with the choreography.

So basically, he’s getting better while you’re getting worse.

Though you all know there’s no time to waste with the competition coming up, Coach ends practice early in his irritation, letting you go with strict instructions to get your shit together before you meet again tomorrow. You promise him you’ll try, though you’re both coming to know that won’t be enough.

You take your time unlacing your skates, shrugging on your jacket and stopping to buy a hot chocolate from the vendor up front before going out into the brisk autumn air. You’d started this new routine after your first practice with Sirius, stalling so that he’d have a head start and you wouldn’t have to walk home in the same direction, but you take two steps outside before you realize your plan has been foiled.

“Coach will kill you if he catches you with one of those,” you say, and the cherry of Sirius’ cigarette burns orange as he takes a drag, eyes lighting with playful defiance.

He blows the smoke away from you. “You won’t tattle on me though, will you, sunshine?”

“Reg won’t like it either.”

“He knows,” Sirius says, as though Regulus’ opinion is of little concern to him. “You took your time in there. Ready to go?”

You don’t try to keep the suspicion from your face. “You were waiting on me?”

“I figure we could use some extra practice.” He drops his cigarette, stamping it out half smoked. “If you’re not too tired, I mean.” You give him an indignant look, and Sirius grins. “C’mon, it’s too cold out here for those leggings.”

You follow him reluctantly, sipping at your hot chocolate because damn it, he’s right. The wind had been cool when you’d gone into practice, but nightfall has stolen the little bit of warmth the sun provided. You wouldn’t be surprised if you woke tomorrow to find the trees prematurely bare of their leaves.

The Blacks’ house isn’t far, and your eager pace gets you there in a hurry. You’re thinking you’ll go to Regulus’ room as soon as you get inside, ditching Sirius and whatever humiliation he has planned for you, but when you approach the house, every window is dark.

“They’re at my aunt’s for dinner,” Sirius answers your unasked question, unlocking the door. “I begged off because of practice.” He laughs as you follow him inside. “Try not to look so happy about it, shortcake.”

You roll your eyes, starting up the stairs that go to the bedrooms. “When will Reg be home?”

“Late.” Sirius’ voice is close behind you. “You’re welcome to wait for him, of course, but we may as well make use of the time.” On the top step, you whirl, relishing the opportunity to look down on him for once.

“Fine. What are we doing here?”

You don’t know if you’d hoped he’d be intimidated, but Sirius appears as unbothered as always. “Like I said. Practice.” He brushes past you, leading the way into his bedroom. After a moment, you follow grudgingly.

Like everything about Sirius, his room is loud. Almost every inch of wall space is covered in band posters, medals from competitions, pictures of his friends. There are clothes strewn across the bed and shoes scattered about the floor, but if Sirius is even conscious of the mess, he doesn’t mention it.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

Sirius turns, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re surprisingly determined. “We need to figure out whatever it is that’s been holding you up,” he says. “We’ve gotta get past it.”

You feel like stomping your foot, but very maturely refrain. You’re about done with the subject of your failures for the day. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I think you do,” Sirius says cooly. “Wanna know how I know?”

“How?”

He grins. “Because you just admitted it.”

“You—I just asked how,” you splutter angrily.

Sirius gives you a knowing look. “Right, so it has nothing to do with you being afraid of me touching you?”

Your face heats. How could he know that? You look at him for a moment, and he looks back at you with that cool, even gaze, like he thinks he’s got you all figured out. As much as you resent him for it, he’s right. You’ve got no shot at a decent score in this competition if you can’t get past your mental block around Sirius. “I’m not afraid.” You roll your eyes, downplaying the admission. “I’m just not used to it, okay? I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but you’re not exactly a carbon copy of my usual partner.”

Sirius grins again, and for the first time you get the sense that he’s laughing with you instead of at you. “I have been made aware of that a few times over our lives, yes. But okay, you’re not used to it. Let’s get you used to it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, not sure where he’s going with this but fairly sure you won’t like it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to throw you until you can handle it without flinching. Sound good?”

You look at him like he’s stupid. “The rink is closed, and there’s nowhere for me to land here.”

“Sure there is.” Sirius pats his bed cheerfully. You stay right where you are. Something changes in his expression, and you think you might detect a bit of kindness behind his teasing tone. “C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t know what Reggie’s told you, but I don’t actually bite.”

You huff, but go to stand in front of him. He’s shed his coat, revealing the plain black shirt underneath, and the sleeves grip his biceps. Even in the poor lamplight, you can see his eyes changing colors like schools of fish as they swim. Now blue, now gray.

“Alright.” Sirius sets his hands on your waist, and you tense automatically. “See, that’s the habit we have to break. Relax for me, shortcake.”

His words certainly don’t help, but you do your best, unclenching the muscles in your stomach and legs.

“Perfect,” he says, then launches you into the air. You barely have time to gasp before you’re landing on his bed, springs squealing in protest. “Okay, next time, try to spin or something.”

“I wasn’t ready,” you protest.

Sirius laughs. “I know. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Let’s try to do it like practice this time, yeah? So you go over there,” he motions to the door, “and run towards me. When I throw you, try to spin if you can, but don’t try to stick the landing or anything. Just land on your butt.”

You roll your eyes, moving to the door. “Yeah, I’m in no hurry to break my ankle like Reg, thanks.”

He winks. “Just making sure.” He spreads his feet a bit, bracing himself. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”

It’s easy to remember Sirius is an older brother when he gets all bossy like this, but you comply, gaining as much speed as you can on the way to him before he’s gripping you around the waist, tossing you into the air. You manage a half-turn before your back end hits the bed.

“Better!” Sirius exclaims, beaming at you. “You still seemed a bit tense, but at least you didn’t try to jump by yourself. Again?”

You can’t help a little smile of your own as you nod, pushing up off the bed and repositioning yourself at the door.

☆ ☆ ☆

When Regulus gets home, he finds you sprawled on Sirius’ bed with his brother sitting beside you, both thoroughly worn out.

“Did you fix it?” he asks.

You grin at the ceiling, wondering if it’s your pride or Sirius’ you’re feeling in the air, or both. “I think so.”

“Coach might get the chance to be mad at me instead, tomorrow,” Sirius laments. “My arms are fucking dead. Too many throws and I might drop you on the ice.”

“Don’t break my partner,” Regulus says warningly.

“Yeah,” you second, hauling yourself into a sitting position and going to meet Regulus at the door, “please don’t.”

You can hear Sirius’ eyes rolling as he says, “I won’t. See you at practice tomorrow, shortcake?”

It’s harder than usual to muster up annoyance for the teasing nickname. “See you tomorrow.”

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 month

Note

Anakin flirting with m reader and ending making out? Pls

Anakin Skywalker x Male reader

Headcanons

You are a non-jedi general during the Clone wars, cuz yall lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.

This turned out a lot sweeter than i had planned ngl.

You were a general during the clone wars. You weren’t anything special, you couldn’t use the force, you weren’t from some rich or special background, your name didn’t carry any weight. The only gift you seemed to have, was your inability to be affected by the force. All in all, you weren’t anything to write home about.

Of course, that’s also what made you so damn useful in your role. No one kept an eye on you, everyone underestimated you, you could get away with so much because to most people in charge, you didn’t exist. You not being able to be manipulated by the force, also made you extremely skilled in what you did, without anyone seeming to notice.

Your feat of climbing the military ranks in leaps and bounds only got you mild acknowledgments, and a handful of attempted manipulations from some people in power. But when they realized you didn’t bend, but you weren’t important enough to get rid of, they left you alone.

At 22 you had reached the rank of senior general in the republic army, placing you above even a good chunk of the jedi you fought against, which was also why you had been placed with the 501st, to apparently teach their general the basics.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had both been unsettled by the fact that they couldn’t sense you in the force the first time you met. Every being, even the nonliving, had a presence. But you didn’t. it was like you didn’t exist.

That took quite some time to get used too, especially to someone as force sensitive as Anakin. But over time you two started getting along, and though it took him some time and a lot of grumbling, Anakin did learn quite a lot from you.

The flirting had been subtle in the beginning, or as subtle as Anakin could be. From getting your help on reports and readings he just “couldn’t understand”, to getting you to help him stretch after he had spent hours going through his katas.

You weren’t oblivious, you couldn’t be with the life you lived, so of course you noticed his attempts at flirting. It was endearing in a way. To see someone who was supposed to have no connection to people like that, seem so drawn to you.

It also left you feeling uneasy in a way, as you had never really had much time to relationships or even flirting for that matter, having spent all these years making something of yourself.

Alongside the flirting you two became good friends, and you had even signed yourself up to stay with his platoon, even when your training was done. This was also where you learned he had had a thing with Padme, but they realized they were better as friends a while ago.

When you shared your own lack of experience, it seemed to boost some of Anakin’s confidence, seeing as you both were on new ground. And like with anything else, he took to it with gusto.

The fact that you never turned him down or rejected him, sometimes even laughing and playing along, only made Anakin try even harder. It was cute, to see him trying his best to woo you in a subtle and less noticeable way, seeing as he was still a jedi and it wasn’t actually allowed.

The 501st knew though. Of course they knew, and when Ahsoka came around she figured it out very fast, and she most likely took up the role as hype man and background support.

Your flirting became part of your dynamic, it was just something that you two did, which to outsiders was just seen as banter to keep the spirits up.

It also didn’t go past flirting for a long time, seeing as you guys were always surrounded by people. And being besides Anakin didn’t let you slip into the shadows like you were used too, since he would glow so brightly.

The need for privacy was what had you two slinking off to the side during one of the nights in camp, the platoon having settled down on a planet and waiting for their next orders. Anakin and you had decided to wander off, settling somewhere nearby, but far enough away to get some time alone together.

There might also have been a bottle of alcohol in your coat. It was nowhere near enough to get either of you drunk, especially with the force helping clear it out of Anakin’s system quicker than average folk. But it was enough to loosen up and get comfortable.

Your normal banter of flirting was constant, but as the buzz settled it became something softer and somehow hotter, the feelings growing thick in the air and noticeable enough that even you, who was as force sensitive as a rock if not lesser, could sense it.

Anakin must have made some corny pass at you, that cocky grin on his lips and his hair brushed back and out of his face, letting you truly see his handsome features. Something came over you, later you would blame the force, but it just felt right.

Leaning in and closing the gap between you seemed to have shocked Anakin, his eyes wide before he seemingly melted against you, arms wrapping around your neck and torso and pulling you even closer.

The kiss was far from the most skilled or pleasant, but your shared lack of experience was fully made up for by enthusiasm.

Anakin would pant and grunt as the kiss turned steamier, lips parting and tongues rubbing together, spit gathering at the edges of your mouths and a line of drool running down his chin. His eyes were shut tightly in concentration, his brows furrowed and hands grasping as your coat.

You had no idea how long you two were laying there, kissing like two lovesick fools from some romance novel. Hands were grasping and exploring, but never going further than that. Now wasn’t the time to go any wilder than what you were doing, but the possibility of it was enough to make the kiss even better.

When you pulled away, Anakin leaned after you with a soft noise, bottom lip pouting out and red from the insistent kissing, his eyes cracking open to look at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Not all of us can hold our breath for hours” you snarked with a soft chuckle, since you knew he could, thanks to the force. Your jedi grumbled, but tucked his head under your chin, still clutching you close and brushing his lips against your neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just holding onto each other. You found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, Anakin almost arching into the touch like an affection starved tooka, a sight that only made you smile more.

“I like you a lot” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his lashes with that insistent determined, but somehow still soft and warm look in his eyes. Just seeing him like that made you wanna kiss him again, to devour him whole.

“I think I like you too” you replied, an upwards tick to your lips as you pulled him close again. Even without the ability to feel the force, you could still feel it flare, like the sun rising in the morning. It would be no surprise if Ahsoka knew exactly what had happened, and the padawan would be confronting you guys about it later.

But right now all that mattered was laying there with Anakin, and maybe stealing a couple more of those deep insistent and longing kisses, since he sounded so pretty when you did. You guys could deal with everything else later.

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Confessions of a SWAT Team

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You and Deacon fell in love with each other, but didn't tell anyone. When officers closer to your age begin flirting with you, Deacon grows distant and won't tell you why.

Warnings: angst, fluff, age gap (not specific but I imagined ~15-20 years, so reader would be late 20s?), Deacon is protective, some arguing, mentions of insecurity, reader is somewhat shy, I used the term "suicide bomber" once in passing. Luca, Street, and Hondo meddle. I think that's all!

Word Count: 2.9k+ words

Requested Here!

Picture from Pinterest

Falling in love with Deacon Kay was easy. Telling anyone, including the man himself, is not so easy.

Deacon Kay never considered the idea of skydiving to be scary… until he found himself falling head over heels for you, the newest recruit. When you walked in on your first day, confident of your skills yet willing to learn your place in the team and receive feedback, he felt something new. You were quiet and reserved, willing to learn, and each time he complimented your skills or offered an idea to make something easier or for improvement, you opened up a bit more. More than attraction, there was a deep need to get to know you, to protect you, to stay close to you, and, later, to hide his biggest secret from you and everyone else. Deacon Kay was falling in love but knew it was wrong.

At the end of your probationary period, you and Deacon have a deep connection, secrets and all. His need to stay close and protect you has only strengthened with time, but every time he looks at you, sees your youth, and pictures the bright future you could have, he tries to silence his heart and listen to his mind. You’re too young and could do so much better, he thinks.

Two months into working with 20 David, you were trapped face-to-face with a suicide bomber. With no protection and no escape route, you maintained a brave act while hoping, praying, that your gear would keep you alive. With three seconds left on the detonator countdown, you feel someone wrap their arms around you as their shoulder blocks your face. The force of the explosion knocks you backward, twisting in your savior’s arms to land on top of Deacon. You feel the pressure build in your eyes as you yell at him never to do that again. He can never know, but his protectiveness scares you because it puts him directly in harm’s way.

After the bombing incident, Deacon gets closer. He puts himself between you and gunfire, taking several shots to his Kevlar while leading you to safety. During a raid with narcotics, a cartel leader jumps on top of you, and you struggle for the upper hand until Deacon hauls him off of you, finishing the fight on your behalf. After Deacon protects you, he always takes you back to the station, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you somewhere private. He tends to your wounds and reminds you that he’s always there if you need to talk.

You want to talk to him more than anything, but Deacon is a Sergeant II, and he’s older than you, and, most importantly, he likely frowns upon inter-team relationships. So, you bottle everything up. Forever.

“You think he’ll ever tell her?” Street asks as Deacon walks out, close enough to you that your hands brush with every step.

“He hasn’t even told us,” Luca points out.

“Maybe we should do something.”

“Their relationship is theirs, guys,” Hondo interjects. “We shouldn’t interfere. Yet.”

Street and Luca smile at the thought of intervening in the future and seeing their teammates happy. They know Deacon is single-handedly responsible for breaking you out of your shell, but they’d like to see it go one step further.

✯✯✯✯✯

“She’s gorgeous,” someone says.

Deacon’s brow furrows as he hears voices grow louder. He tries to focus on the computer before him, looking for blueprints for an entry raid.

“Care for a friendly bet?” a second voice asks.

Several young officers dressed in street clothes stop beside the door where Deacon is working. He can see them, but they haven’t noticed him yet. His focus wavers when he thinks he hears your name.

“Of course, we’re still talking about her,” the first guy answers.

Deacon’s focus shifts completely, turning to face them. They’re close to your age and attractive, but what bothers him most is how easily they discuss their attraction to you.

“If you suggest a ‘first one to get a date with her’ bet, I’m out.”

“I was thinking more we see whose pickup line lands better, then we let her choose. She’s not a prize, she’s a person.”

Yet you’re planning to use her as an object in a bet, Deacon thinks.

“Were you at the range yesterday afternoon? She was there. I can’t believe how good she is. 20 David is lucky.”

“For more reasons than one.”

Deacon clenches his jaw as they walk away, still comparing what they've seen of your shooting and fighting skills. He watches you in awe, too, but they have a shot to get close to you.

“Focus,” he whispers to himself, facing the computer.

“Hey, Deac,” you call as you enter. “Hondo wanted to know if you found the property record? Although, I’m still arguing that this is a waste of your talents.”

You stop beside him, leaning against the desk and smiling at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Deacon answers, trying to look anywhere but at your beautiful eyes. “I got it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great. Let’s go.”

You nod slowly before following him out. Two men call your name, and you look over, tilting your head as they beckon you over.

“I’ll be right there, Deac,” you tell him, tapping his shoulder twice.

He nods, watching silently as you walk to them. They smile as they say something quiet enough that he can’t hear. There’s a small smile on your face, and Deacon thinks you’re introducing yourself.

Pointless, he thinks, they know more about you than they should. Not as much as me, though.

The thought catches Deacon off guard, and when he looks back up, the taller officer is openly flirting with you. You laugh and push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Deacon missed his chance. He walks away while you continue smiling at them, seemingly enjoying their flirtations.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’re uncomfortable; these officers are 1) flirting with you while you’re still working and 2) way too young and immature for you. Forcing a laugh and moving your hand to your hair nervously, you glance over and only see Deacon’s back as he leaves.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” you blurt out, interrupting the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard, “but it was nice to meet you.”

“Oh, okay. We’ll see you around?” one asks.

“I’m sure we will, we work in the same building,” you answer before realizing that it sounds a little too much like an invitation to come talk to you again.

Rushing to follow Deacon, you enter an office behind him, and Hondo immediately starts talking. You stand by Deacon, but he doesn’t look over and roll his eyes at Hondo’s bad analogies like usual. Fiddling with your fingers, you try to focus but wonder what happened. He could have a lot on his mind, or maybe you did something wrong. You decide to give it some time and hope that it passes.

20 David spends the afternoon training, and when you get in the ring with Deacon, you expect it to go as usual. Typically, you throw a few punches and have to beg Deacon to fight back and make it fair. However, today, Deacon has no problem immediately giving you a full-force hit. You step back and catch yourself before returning the hit. You lose the sparring round, and Deacon climbs out without a glance in your direction.

When you see him later while preparing to go home for the night, you stay quiet. Part of you hopes he’ll yell at you or something - anything to acknowledge you, but nothing happens.

“Goodnight,” you say as Deacon leaves the locker room.

He nods without looking at you. Your heart feels like it’s in pieces on the locker room floor, and you take a deep breath before gathering your things to go home.

“Heading out?” Luca asks as he walks in. You nod, and he adds, “We’re going out for a little bit, want to come?”

“No thanks,” you say quietly, closing your locker gently. “See you tomorrow.”

Street opens the door from the other side and holds it, his smile falling as you duck your head and rush past him.

“What happened?” he asks Luca.

“Deacon,” he answers.

“Want to tell me why Deacon is slamming doors?” Hondo asks when Luca and Street exit.

“Is it just Deacon?” Luca asks knowingly.

“Should we do something now? That distance isn’t safe in the field and if she’s nervous around him…” Street trails off.

“We may have to. She’s not the only emotional one, though. Deac looked a little green on his way out,” Hondo responds.

“What now?”

“Let’s see how tomorrow goes. We have the gala tomorrow night, so something needs to happen. And soon.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting on your couch, you replay every event of the day. Obviously, you did something wrong, which is why Deacon is so eager for space between you. The only ‘bad’ thing that happened before he changed was the officers flirting with you, but you were still on time, so you didn’t do anything wrong.

If Deacon wants space, you’ll give it to him. It’s the least you can do.

The garment bag in your bathroom catches your attention, and you cross your fingers that the gala is enjoyable and not an evening spent avoiding and being avoided by the one man you’d like to dance with.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, brother, you clean up nice,” Hondo taunts as Deacon approaches.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” Deacon replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. He glances around but doesn’t find what, or who, he’s looking for.

“She’s not here yet,” Street says.

“What?”

Hondo shakes his head, and Street takes his cue, excusing himself to let Hondo and Deacon talk.

“What happened between you two?” he inquires.

“Me and Street?”

Hondo rolls his eyes before looking pointedly at Deacon. “You’re jealous.”

Deacon’s eyes stray from Hondo, locking on something behind him. Turning his head, Hondo laughs when he sees what is more worthy of his friend’s attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

Stepping into the large ballroom, you barely have time for a full breath before the officers from earlier sidle up to you and begin talking. You smile politely and nod, not listening to what they’re saying, as you scan the venue for Deacon. When you find him, he’s standing beside Hondo. Hondo steps away, and Deacon’s eyes lock on yours, his brown eyes wide as his jaw clenches. The eye contact doesn’t last long; Deacon turns his back to you and disappears into the crowd. Your heart and smile fall, so the men surrounding you switch tactics, openly complimenting you, though most of it doesn’t affect you in the slightest.

“Excuse me,” you mutter quietly, pushing between them to follow Deacon.

You deserve an explanation, and you’re going to get one. It takes a few minutes, but you find Deacon standing in front of a fireplace in what appears to be a private office off the back hallway.

“Deac?” you ask, wringing your fingers in front of your stomach.

Deacon doesn’t turn around, but he can see you in his mind (not that you ever leave), with your hair styled beautifully, an outfit that flatters you in every way, and glassy eyes and glossy lips. No matter what you’re wearing, street clothes, your uniform, or formal wear for a police gala, you always look perfect to Deacon. Tonight, though, you’re practically begging to be kissed breathless, to be adored, and if he looks at you, he won’t be able to restrain himself.

“What did I do?”

The question presents your insecurity and shyness, which take Deacon back to your first month when you could barely look him in the eye, and your answers had a five-word maximum. He rubs his hand down his face, hearing you shift behind him.

“Please tell me what I did to make you do this,” you plead.

“You didn’t do anything, I’m just working through some things,” he answers carefully, his back to you. “No big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal then why am I losing you over it?” you snap, your growing anger overpowering your sadness and nervousness.

“You’re not losing me,” Deacon says, sighing.

“It sure feels like it, David.”

You never use his first name, and the moment Deacon hears it, he turns around. He sees you and loses some of his jealousy and anger but says what he needs to anyway.

“I just needed some space to think,” he replies. “Is that wrong?”

“Needing space to think and avoiding me are two different things.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you-“

“Then why did you leave? Why haven’t you said more than fifteen words to me in the last two days?”

“Why didn’t you talk to me at first?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. He regrets the question immediately but can’t apologize before you speak again.

“If this is what talking to you is going to be like from now on, maybe I never should have started,” you admit, dropping your head as tears gather at your waterline.

“You don’t mean that,” Deacon says quietly.

“Just tell me why. Tell me the truth.”

Deacon doesn’t say anything, and you bite your bottom lip as you think. Deacon wants nothing more than to grab your face, tug your lip free, and kiss you until you don’t talk to him, not because he created a rift between you but because he steals your breath. You’re all he’s ever wanted and more, but the idea still terrifies him. The rejection alone could kill him, but having to see you at work would be worse.

“If you want me to join another team or something, tell me,” you demand. “But I deserve to know why you decided I wasn’t worth the lack of space.”

Deacon’s eyes race to find yours. “This is not about your worth,” he answers, anger spilling through. Not at you, though; at himself, at the situation he put you in, and at those officers who have a chance at what he craves most.

“Then why are you acting like you hate being near me?”

“Because I cannot lose another person I love!” he yells.

You freeze, unable to form a reply. Deacon takes a deep breath when he realizes what he confessed. Your silence is worse than yelling at him.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“I love you too,” you whisper, a single tear breaking free when you smile. “I’m in love with you.”

Deacon steps forward, closing the physical and emotional gap. Taking your left hand, he raises his to wipe your tears. His hand lingers by your face as you smile up at him.

“I was jealous,” he explains. “Those cops were flirting with you yesterday and you looked happy. They’re closer to your age and you have more in common. It made sense for you to go for them, not me.”

“Deacon, I was uncomfortable, not happy. I turned around to find you and you were gone and then you just kept getting further away. I want you, Deacon Kay. No one else.”

“Care to dance with me?” he asks quietly.

“I’d love to. I’ve been wanting to all week,” you answer.

His smile grows, drawing your attention to his eyes as he leads you back to the ballroom. You don’t see any members of your team as you walk onto the dance floor. Deacon leads, letting you lean on him again, something you missed in the short time it was gone. The song ends, and you straighten, preparing to pull away.

“I want you too,” Deacon says. “But I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you encourage, smiling as you tap his hand twice.

Deacon smiles and pulls his hands from yours, cupping your face and kissing you without hesitation. You slide your hands up his chest to rest under his lapel. Deacon feels your heart race, his thumb against the pulse point below your jaw, but his beats steadily below your hand. With each of Deacon’s movements, more of your breath, more of your life, more of you becomes his.

“Aye, Deac!” Luca yells from the crowd. “Way to go!”

“About time!” Street adds, leading a round of applause from the entire LAPD.

Deacon pulls back from you, smiling when you hide your face against his neck. He sees the flirty cops from earlier awkwardly clapping with the crowd. His hand rubs up and down your back, glad that everyone, you included, knows that you’re his and he is yours.

“Told you,” Hondo teases as he walks to Deacon’s side. “Green ain’t your color.”

“He only means figuratively, you look good in everything,” you mumble against his skin.

“Want to get out of here?” Deacon asks, his hands still on your back as he holds you against him.

“Please,” you reply, tapping his chest twice.

He leads you out, stopping you after you’re outside.

“Why do you tap me twice?” Deacon asks gently, his arm around your waist and his jacket over your shoulders.

“It’s the only way I could tell you without actually saying it,” you say with a shrug.

“Say what?”

“That I love you.”

Deacon smiles, tapping your waist twice as he moves you to stand closer to him.

His lips meet yours again, and when your hands reach his jaw, you’re not sure where you end or Deacon begins, and it’s perfect. Deacon Kay was easy to fall in love with, easy to be in love with, and he was absolutely worth the wait.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #david kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

Note

Heyhey, may I request something like a reader who is Clint's daughter, sucks at archery and thinks she's a disappointment to Clint. Seeing this situation and not really knowing what to do, Kate decides to help reader with some archery lessons. The lessons really help reader, but at the same time they are a distraction and the BIGGEST test of self-control not to kiss Kate while she talks about archery and invades personal space to show how it’s done.

Like– who would be 100% focused with Kate so close?? 😭😭😭

can you see right through me? [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: you're notoriously bad at archery and somehow even worse at keeping yourself together around a certain kind-eyed archer.

warnings: none, just fluff with a side of romantic tension; kate being a flirt without realizing; very platonic touching [...not]; me pretending like i completely understand how archery works

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: for every one fic i write where kate is confident and cocky, i have to write another one where she's dorky and awkward and confident and cocky. that's just the law of the universe. this request was a lot of fun to write so thank you. hope you enjoy <3 [also, it would take a ridiculous amount of self-control to stay focused around kate's goofy little smile]

* * * * * * *

You wouldn’t say you’re the world’s worst archer but you’re definitely close to the top of the list. It’s something that shouldn’t bother you, and maybe it wouldn't if you were anybody else. Unfortunately, you’re Hawkeye’s oldest daughter and you also happen to be the absolute worst at archery.

Even your youngest brother has better aim than you and he’s not even strong enough to pick up a bow.

Your dad swears your lack of skill doesn’t bother him but it certainly bothers you. Especially when it results in him taking on Kate Bishop as his protege instead of you.

The worst part is, Kate’s incredibly sweet so you can’t even hate her for being everything you’re not. Her love for archery is genuine, and so is her admiration for Clint.

And, okay, fine, maybe she also happens to be attractive and caring and far too charming for her own good.

You hate to admit it but you have the biggest crush on the brunette archer and it’s only gotten worse since she kindly offered to teach you how to properly shoot a bow. Your dad complained, not because he didn’t want you to learn, but because he was offended that you seriously thought Kate would be a better teacher than him. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him the real reason you accepted the brunette’s offer)

So, against your better judgment, you’ve been hanging out with Kate every day, letting her talk your ear off about the ‘proper techniques’ involved and what the best bows for beginners are. She’s clearly more excited about all of this than you are but getting to see her so often isn’t something you’re going to complain about.

“y/n, you’re not even listening.” Kate’s teasing tone brings you back to the matter at hand. Well, more like the bow in your hand.

“Sorry,” you mutter, hoping she can’t notice the nervousness in your stance.

She does, unfortunately for you, because she’s far too observant despite her scattered attention span. What she doesn’t realize, though, is that she's the reason for said nervousness.

“You’re shaking too much,” she comments. “Let me help you.”

You open your mouth to tell her you don’t need her help but all your words die in your throat the second she steps closer to you.

She’s trying to be helpful, you know that, and yet she achieves the complete opposite. Her front presses up against your back as her hands land on top of yours to stabilize your movements. “Relax. You’re trying to guide the arrow, not control it.”

You attempt to listen to her advice but relaxing is the last thing on your mind right now. Every muscle in your body is acutely aware of the brunette’s presence which causes your heart to beat faster than should ever be possible. The position you’re in doesn’t help and soon, you really do start shaking from the tension of drawing the arrow back.

She counts down for you, something that should not be as attractive as it is, and you finally let go of the bowstring and shoot the arrow into the target. A target that you miss by several feet.

You can’t even be disappointed in yourself because you’re too busy trying to regain your breath the second Kate finally steps away from you.

“Hey, at least you’re not hitting the wall anymore!” She says in what’s now become her signature ‘cheering you up’ voice.

It makes her sound ridiculous but it also makes you smile so you don’t have the heart to make fun of her for it. “I appreciate it but it’s going to take years for my aim to get better than this.”

“Oh, come on.” Her exasperated words are accompanied by an eyeroll and a step toward you that makes your breath catch in your throat. “You've already improved so much. Give me one more week and I promise you’ll be hitting that bullseye.”

You take advantage of her proximity to hand the stupid bow back to her. “You're doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head slightly.

“The thing where you get too confident right before totally falling on your ass.”

She does her best to look annoyed but the pink hue that tints her cheeks gives her away far too quickly. “Keep talking like that and I’m canceling the lessons.”

“Wow, what a shame.”

You manage to successfully break her this time and she bursts out laughing, the sound setting free hundreds of butterflies inside your stomach. There are a lot of things to love about Kate and her laugh might be at the top of the list. (Right below her smile and her incredibly comforting hugs…not that you’ve ever noticed or anything.)

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” she says while getting into position to do some shooting of her own. “If I hit the bullseye three times in a row, we’re staying for fifteen more minutes.”

“And if you miss?” You ask, knowing damn well the chances of her missing are close to zero.

“If I miss…I’ll take you out to dinner instead.”

You’ve never wanted her to prove you wrong more badly than at this moment. You don’t say that out loud, though, you don’t even say anything. You just shake your head at her and do your best not to give away how much you adore her silly antics.

The thought that she’s genuinely flirting with you crosses your mind but you instantly push it away, too afraid of getting hurt to entertain the idea for too long. You’ll take what you can get and if all Kate gives you are stupid flirty jokes then that’s all you need. Hoping for more can’t end well when it comes to the brunette.

Your eyes are glued to her frame while she nocks and draws her first arrow, her muscles straining through the fabric of her purple shirt. You know she knows you’re closely watching every move she makes and the self-assured smile that graces her face has you thinking much different thoughts.

Thoughts that are shot right out of your mind as Kate hits the bullseye not three times in a row but five because she’s an annoying overachiever when she wants to be. You’d be pissed if you were unaware of the way her eyes light up with genuine excitement at her success.

“We get it, you’re the world’s greatest archer.” Your dad would disown you if he ever heard you speak those words but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…or at least that’s what you hope.

“Don’t sound so jealous, baby.”

Your legs shake the tiniest bit as you approach her again, taking the bow back into your hands with a huff. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you go fetch your arrows or something?”

“You sure you can handle shooting on your own?” It comes across as another one of her usual teasing comments but her eyes give away her sincerity. She truly does want to help you do well even if it means you won’t need her help anymore.

“You sound like my dad. I’ll be fine, Kate.”

The comparison distracts just enough to stop her from putting up a fight. She walks away toward the target full of her arrows and you walk a few feet away to find a new target to inevitably miss.

You go through the motions Kate patiently taught you, taking in slow breaths and forcing yourself to focus. You’re not fully focused on yourself though. Rather, you visualize the kind-hearted archer and repeat what you’ve seen her do a thousand times at this point.

Time seems to slow down as your eyes hone in on the bullseye and you let the arrow fly. It soars through the air and misses the bullseye by a few inches. But you finally managed to hit the target instead of the wall behind it or the floor in front of it.

You actually did it.

And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Kate!” You throw the bow down onto the ground in your excitement, your eyes searching for the brunette only to find her already looking at you with the most gorgeous smile on her face.

“You did it!”

She opens her arms for you and you waste no time in running toward her, crashing into her body with a laugh. Her arms slide down your waist and before you know it, she’s picking you up and spinning you around in a giddy haze.

You wrap your legs around her waist without a second thought before looking down at her. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice slightly breathless from your moment of celebration.

She instantly shakes her head, strands of her soft yet messy hair waving around in the process. “That was all you, y/n. I knew you could do it.”

You’re ready to argue back and insist you’d be lost without her but you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander for a second too long.

Maybe it’s the excitement or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins or maybe it’s Kate herself. You don’t know what it is that makes you work up the courage to finally kiss her, you just know it’s the only thing you want right now.

So, you do it.

You lean in and press your lips to hers in a way that borders on desperate. If she notices, she has no complaints about it because she kisses you back just as passionately. And nothing has ever felt as right as this.

You reluctantly pull away from her and attempt to catch your breath. Something that completely fails due to the way Kate is looking at you. She’s got that soft look in her eyes that can only mean one thing. “So…I’m guessing you like me?”

Yup, there it is.

“You’re a dork.”

“Hmm…maybe.” She sneaks in another kiss that you happily accept. “But this dork would love to take you on a date. If you want.”

“I do want that…but only if you’re paying.” You joke before she sets you back down on the ground.

“Golddigger.”

“Shut up.”

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angelltheninth · 11 months

Text

Mutual Third-Wheeling with Avatar Men

Pairing: Jake Sully, Neteyam, Lo'ak, Tsu'tey, Miles Quaritch, Aonung, Tonowari x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, meet-cute, developing feelings, hand holding, awkward flirting, purring, tail shenanigans, protectiveness

A/N: Yep, I still love these tall blue guys. I don't think I'll ever stop actually.

JAKE SULLY

Because he's recenty become a Na'vi he doesn't even know where to start with meeting someone. He spends his time hunting and trying to learn as fast as he can, being dragged around by everyone. Meeting you one night and seeing that you didn't seem that interested in your friends talking he wanted to talk to you, not having anything better to do. He was passionate about learning and so sweet while he listened, a little uncoordinated but better company then your friends that's for sure.

NETEYAM

He us a hopeless case when it comes to romance. Neteyam may be a good fighter but when he's in the company of a pretty woman he gets so tense. Its the reason his brother dragged him along everywhere. He didn't really want to talk to anyone, very shy when you approached and asked him to dance. There wasn't anyone else to ask as you were dragged by your friends too, and you thought thst out of everyone there he was the cutest. His dancing needed some work but at least both of you spent the rest of the night smiling, laughing and even sneaking off to get a few shy kisses, your tails tangling around each other as you walked.

LO'AK

This man wanted to die every second his parents talked to yours about him being a troublemaker. Good thing you noticed and asked to go teach him a few lessons while the rest talked. Turns out that the only reason you were there was to make your family look good to Lo'ak's dad. Since neither of you wanted to be there you ran into the high trees, racing through, you eager to see that mischivious nature you heard off. It was more then enough when Lo'ak faked being hurt so he could pull you down a hill and pinn you down, a playful smirk on his face. Maybe it wasn't so bad that he was a troublemaker.

TSU'TEY

Since he takes hunting, being the next potential leader and showing off very seriously, the only way for him to meet someone was to be dragged along by his friends. Even that almost failed had you not caught his eye, looking uninterested in the meeting. Tsu'tey barely said a few words to you while you were there but on your way back he stopped you, apologizing that you got mixed up in this because of him. He's not looking for a mate right now but he will make this up to you one way or another.

MILES QUARITCH

The man wanted nothing to do with pretty much anyone or anything that wasn't mission related. You just so haplened to be with his team when he was on a briefing, at least they told him it was a briefing but clearly it was a set up. How would it even work with a human anyway? Can it work? You might be a scientist but he won't be your romantic experiment. Or are you maybe looking for something more phisical? Well after all the failed tries from yozr friends to get you to date at least Quaritch would be a challange. A challange? Now you're talking. Maybe he could give this a try.

AONUNG

When your hands accidentally touch each others you notice that he doesn't pull away instead shrugging his shoulders and giving you a friendly smirk. He tries to chat you up a little because there's literally no one else interesting to talk to. Everyone here is someone he pretty much knows already but you're a new face, you could be fun. Naturally he offers to show off his swimming and diving skills to you, purring when you compliment him but cursing him out when he pulls you into the water with a loud belly laugh and a splash.

TONOWARI

Tonowari feels protective over you at first. This is your first gathering in a new tribe so he tries to make you feel welcome. The only problem is that he's hovering around you all stiff and awkward. He feels like he could be doing more to make you feel welcome but truth be told he came here because he was convinced, very easily, by his friends when he heard you'd be here. Forgive him for being so bold but he would love to personally show you around the island, just the two of you.

#avatar x reader #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #tsu'tey x reader #miles quaritch x reader #aonung x reader #tonowari x reader #avatar imagine #avatar headcanons #avatar fluff #atwow x reader #atwow imagines #atwow headcanons #atwow fluff

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wolfofwritingstreet · 1 year

Note

You said crows are closed but I’m willing to change your mind.

Crow is the captain of the ship that takes the crows to the ice court. Giving kaz orders and such.

AN: I am sosososososo excited for season two of Shadow and Bone, so here's to opening up the Crows again. Strayed a little away from the prompt, but I had an OC in my head I was basing this off of. So, please enjoy <3

TIDEMAKER, NOT TIDEMAKER

GN!READER X PLATONIC!CROWS

"And then twist, and pull." You commanded, grinning when Inej formed the perfect Sailors knot. "Perfect, Nej."

"Thank you for teaching me." You helped hoist her up, as her side was still stiff from where the gunshot had been.

"You are an excellent student, who listens to commands." You gave a pointed look to Jesper, who slowly lowered the cannonball he was holding.

"It rolled towards me, fate." He surrendered, whistling as he walked back towards Nina who was leaning against the bannister of your ship talking with Wylan.

Lord forbid you were talked into using your baby for one of Kaz's heists, though a Crow stays with the flock - or whatever it was Jesper said to boost morale after a particularly bad heist.

You may not belong to the Dregs, or the Dime Lions, or any gang. But, the idiots currently roaming around your ship were your closest friends... and you were promised a cut if you put your tide making skills to good use.

"Inej, keep practicing. I need to find Brekker - I haven't seem him in far too long, and last time I caught him eyeing up valuable items on my ship." Inej smiled softly, bidding you farewell with a nod as she went back to undoing the knot.

You two had both once belonged to the Menagerie; and whilst Inej learned to stitch herself up and join the Dregs, you had learnt how to tie knots and fled to the seas to become the infamous Pirate, who was a fond deliverer to Fifth Harbour.

Though the sea wasn't as free as it seemed, your debt to those in higher up places meant you always had to come back to Ketterdam. To interfere with them, would be the end of your sails.

"Kaz I don't think that's a good idea." You shot back into reality, blinking against the harsh sea breeze as you spotted Kaz taking the wheel of the ship.

"Brekker, get your slippery hands off my baby."

"No wonder she doesn't flirt back, she's in love with her ship." Nina teased, but you marched past her and up the short flight of stairs to glare at Brekker.

"You were heading the wrong way." Kaz answers your glare, and before he can even utter another word you have whipped your hands in an arch. The vein in your head throbbing, as you brought the ship to a complete stop. "Could you stop that, we are on a tight schedule."

"This is my ship Brekker, I know how to steer it."

"The map says your wrong." He released the wheel, clunking his cane down heavily. "I was fixing the mistake."

"If Matthias wasn't sleeping, I'd ask him to use all that Fjerdon muscle to haul you overboard."

"You are overreacting."

"Step away from the wheel." Your voice grew harsher, as the ship rocked dangerously. "I don't touch your cane, you don't touch my ship."

Kaz stared. You stared.

Five minutes later you were happily steering the ship, as Kaz sat on a crate beside you with the map across his knees. Kaz Brekker was many things, but he knew one thing.

As Inej had her claws, you had your ship. You two would both go down fighting if that was threatened, and Kaz knew better than to push those buttons.

"Slightly East." He ordered, and you moved the wheel with one hand, using the other to guide the waters behind you so that your travels were shortened.

"Has anyone got a bucket!" You grimaced as Wylan ran out frantically waving his hands, "I think Jesper is going to be sick, and he's threatening to do it over my plans if I don't find a bucket.

You sighed with a grin, letting the ship slow as you nudged a bucket towards Wylan with water from the sea. He stared at it transfixed, before snatching the bucket up and scurrying away causing Nina to let out a loud laugh.

You were the Captain of the ship, taking the Crows to the Ice Court, and not a single one was listening to the orders you had given out earlier.

This heist could only go well...

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

LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT, REQUEST.

#inej ghafa #inej x reader #inej ghafa x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #jesper x reader #jesper fahey x reader #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #nina zenik #mathias helvar

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shesjustanothergeek · 9 months

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I hope life hasn't been too terrible for y'all while I've been gone xD. While on this little vacation, I realized I have Computer Vision Syndrome (CVS). I know that sounds silly, but it actually really fucking sucks. When I write for a long period on my laptop screen (like 5 hours), I get awful eye pain, headache, migraines, blurred vision, vertigo, and nausea. I've learned different tips and tricks to help with it, so I'm doing much better. Thank y'all so much for letting me enjoy my break, and happy reading!

P.S. Updates will still be Sun/Mon.

Chapter Warnings: 0-100 real quick but with sexism, extreme anti-bastard language, minor ableist language, panic attack.

"My blood is red and unafraid of living, beginning to end.

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too,

And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime.

I'm at my highest peak.

I'm ripe, about to fall, capture me."- Liquid Smooth, Mitski.

Surprisingly, life had proceeded smoothly after your tumultuous reappearance at Kings Landing. You expected more hardships to come, but astonishingly, they had yet to arrive.

However, becoming used to Aegon's advances took time. Following like a lost puppy everywhere you went, never far from his beloved little Princess. Much to your chagrin, people began to group you and the wastrel prince as a pair. Where one was, the other was sure to be.

Queen Alicent had dubbed you Aegon's keeper, ensuring he was not frequenting the Silk Streets and gambling houses as he once did. Playing the role of the Prince's Mother wasn't enjoyable at first, but you understood how much of an advantage this was, and a part of you grew to like it. It was the only sturdy aspect in your life, comforting and tending to Aegon's needs like a nursemaid, and should questions arise from your frequent sightings within the eldest son's apartments, the Queen herself would explain the rumors away.

Alicent prayed to the Seven that providing close contact with Aegon would convince you to see her reasons behind the line of succession and sway you to believe them. Even if that didn't work, she still found a way to control her scoundrel of a son and keep the blanket of shame from lying upon their backs. The Queen did not worry herself about the idea that her son might attempt to corrupt you. She was sure that if Aegon tried anything, you would physically overpower him and that her son's poor, borderline misogynistic words he called flirting would not work on a sensible woman like you.

Alicent had yet to inform her father of the schemes she concocted, and Lord Otto Hightower grew wary of the Bastard Princess and the Drunken Prince's time together. He knew of your loyalty to your family and how you believed with your entire soul that destroying centuries' worth of tradition and precedent would better the realm. By putting Rhaenyra on the throne, a girl he watched grow into a woman uncaring of duty, you would somehow prove yourself better than your worth.

But that was not how things were. That was not how dynasties secured their reign for millennia.

Upon reflecting on the situation, Otto realized he couldn't separate Aegon from you, for he was permanently attached to your hip. He needed someone under his thumb that you deemed trustworthy. Perhaps a knight that you respected and felt a familiarity with?

Otto summoned Ser Arryk to his study during the moment of realization. He tasked the Kingsguardmen to become your protector in the Red Keep regarding your newly appointed status as Small Council member. Lord Hightower knew it was a lie, and he understood you would too, but was comforted by the notion that Ser Arryk would accept this task with duty, honor, and integrity and would not fail him.

Yet, Arryk's reports back to him were trivial. He gave the Hand information he already knew and, at moments, even made him doubt putting the White Cloak to the task. The only thing that sparked Otto Hightower's interest was how many letters departed from the Rookery. At one point, when the Lord was genuinely desperate, he opened a letter addressed to Dragonstone, hoping to find something, anything that would give him that edge, but was greeted with a language he didn't understand and hot embarrassment for having been caught by the newly appointed Grand Maester Orwyle after the death of his predecessor.

But it was no matter, the Hand told himself. He learned how to wait. Otto Hightower spent many years playing a game no one else knew they were in and had not failed yet, for his daughter was crowned Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, and his grandson was in line to inherit the Iron Throne. Otto Hightower had to be patient, as he always was, and everything would fall into place.

***

The eldest Prince's head rested in your lap, his violet orbs following the shapes of the white cotton clouds in the afternoon sky. You watched Princess Helaena search for bugs on the underside of leaves, quietly humming to yourself a song Rhaenyra had sung to you on many occasions.

You had just finished picnicking with him, Helaena, and her children, the tots handed to a nursemaid after little Jaehaerys fell asleep in your arms. It was a request by Aegon to his sister-wife to have them all for lunch. An idea you planted in his head that initially did not include a third person, but upon Aegon's manipulation Helaena allowed you to come—explaining something about how good you were with his son and that it would be practice for when you made the eternal sacrifice that was the act of raising children. Helaena immediately brightened at the notion of you possibly bringing more babes into the Keep and agreed immediately.

A nuzzling sensation on your stomach stole you from your contented trance, looking down to see Aegon pressing his nose into the crevice where your stomach overlapped the apex of your thighs. He continued the movements as you glanced over to Helaena, ensuring she was still distracted by the pair of mating green beetles she found.

"Aegon," you chastised, cocking a brow at the burrowing Prince. "Your wife is standing ten and five paces from us."

"And?" he prompted, nipping at the thin golden fabric of your natural waistline.

"And she could suddenly become disinterested in the pair of breeding insects and see her lord husband burying his face into the navel of another woman," you snapped, slightly curling your lip as your fingers glided over his scalp.

"Helaena would not care. She is my sister," Aegon flippantly retorted, his words muffled by your gut.

You rolled your eyes, the ring of purple shimmering in the Spring daylight and momentarily distracting Aegon. "She is your wife by law and the divine. 'Tis an insult for you to be so openly disrespectful of your ties," you answered cooly.

The Prince groaned, the noise muffled by silk and flesh as he moved his hands, swiftly palming at your breasts before he sat upright.

"Your observations are always appreciated, little one, but I believe those skills could be put to better use," he teased, giving your tits another squeeze as you stifled a squeal before separating to a proper distance.

"Rotten prince!" you whispered heatedly to Aegon, glancing at Helaena again.

He snickered in response, taking a swig of the imported strawberry mead from Drone to hide his smirk. "I seem to remember you calling me a different name last night." He gulped down the drink, releasing a satisfied exhale. "What was it again? Good boy? My sweet Prince?" He feigned forgetfulness, gazing into the blue sky with a stubby digit tapping his chin. "Oh, that's right! I remember now! 'Twas-"

You launched across the patterned blanket the servants had placed and tackled Aegon, covering his mouth with your fist as he squealed like a captured piglet. He wriggled like one as you attempted to punch his cherubic cheeks, legs straddling his torso.

Suddenly, your name was called, startling you and causing your hands to move from Aegon's body and rest your weight fully atop his waist. You feared the worst. Helaena, furious at you and storming over to have you escorted from Kings Landing for your scandalous actions, destroying your plans.

"Please, don't hurt him too badly," Helaena said, still focused on the beetles. "I am certain whatever caused this isn't worth murdering him over, but if you must..." She trailed off, turning her hand over as the emerald bug crawled across the back of it. "I have not seen anything."

It took a few blinks to realize she was jesting. Her monotone, almost dreamy voice did not indicate if she was. A hint of a smile graced Helaena's thin, peony lips, a devilish glint within your eyes as you bent your knees to attack.

"Devious women! Evil women, the lot of you!" Aegon cursed in faux protest, wrestling his arms with yours as a grin split your face.

And that was how Ser Arryk found you, straddling the eldest son of the King as you rolled over the top of each other like fighting wolves, kicking the large wicker basket to his feet on accident. He cleared his throat as he reached you, Aegon using the distraction to his advantage as he flipped you over onto your stomach, mouth centimeters away from your neck.

"Princess," Ser Arryk interrupted awkwardly. Aegon deflated against you at the sound of his voice, resting his forehead on your shoulder in defeat.

"Good afternoon Ser Cargyll," you chirped, trying to control the blush that crept across your cheeks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Arryk's gaze flickered to the protruding flesh of your bosom before swiftly averting his eyes to the blooming shrubs. He cleared his throat again, the notch bobbing as he swallowed.

"The Hand has ordered a meeting of the King's Council, your Grace. 'Tis an urgent matter," he answered, his back ramrod straight.

You sighed in acknowledgment, using your palms to arch your body and shove Aegon off, his short nails catching on the embroidered beads of your dress. He groaned in annoyance as he flopped onto the ground dramatically, reminding you of Jaehaerys during one of his tantrums.

Righting yourself, you smoothed the golden fabric of your gown, which Helaena commissioned for you as a Maiden Day gift and finally felt appropriate enough to wear. You nodded at the Kingsguardmen, walking a few paces before turning to face Helaena and Aegon, the latter pouting like the spoiled boy he was.

"I apologize that our picnic must be shortened, my Prince and Princess. I'm sure we could meet for supper if that is feasible," you offered with a tilt of your head.

Helaena nodded, strolling over to her sulking brother as she nudged him with her slippered foot.

Arryk observed the interaction as he waited, his eyes trailing to places of sin. The way your flowing silk dress hugged your skin, the white pearls on the neckline complimenting your intricately styled ebony hair. Bronze beads were sewn on the gold fabric in a way that reminded him of a weeping willow, the same little balls threaded into your thin sleeves in a swirling pattern. His gaze danced over your curves next, your hips, waist, arse, anything he could see before you faced him once more, a brilliant smile on your lips.

Shame ran hot through his veins as he made contact with Aegon, his eyes dark and stare piercing. Arryk had only seen looks like that from men set to battle, hardening themselves for imminent slaughter. He knew of the Prince's quick anger, a secondhand source of it from his brother. Whatever Aegon was thinking, or more so planning, Ser Arryk didn't want to be a victim of.

He quickly turned, making his way towards an entrance of the Keep without regarding the sole reason he came. You watched Ser Cargyll's retreating form, throwing a perplexed look at Helaena and Aegon before following him, the string of pearls around your waist swaying with the movement.

Once you both were far enough away from the Godswood, you stood in Arryk's pathway, hands on your hips.

"Why did you leave so abruptly? 'Tis hardly proper as a member of the Kingsguard to turn your back on his kin," you interrogated.

"My apologies, Princess," Arryk bowed, muscles tense.

Your face soured, cringing at the emotionless sound of his voice. "None of that," you waved your hands, dismissing the subject. "Twas odd, is all. I've never seen you act in such a way before. It concerns me." You paused, pursing your lips as you glanced at the cracked red stone floors, moving closer to him. "Did Lord Hightower inform you why the meeting was called? Is that the reason for your callousness?"

Ser Arryk swallowed the lump in his throat that formed while watching your concerned face scrunch, the violet in your eyes becoming larger as your pupils shrunk in the daylight. He couldn't answer your questions truthfully without knowing your relationship with Aegon, redirecting the conversation to something more comfortable.

"I am unaware of the reason," Arryk answered instead, his posture still tense as he spoke. "It's rather unusual for the Hand to do this, no?" He noted the brief scowl that pulled your mouth, tucking your lips in to nibble at them.

"Yes. You are correct, Ser Cargyll," you nodded, pivoting on the balls of your feet as you proceeded with your journey. "It unnerves me greatly if you do not mind me speaking freely." You glanced at him in your peripherals. He encouraged you to continue, following a respectable distance. "The last time something like this happened, Grand Maester Mellos passed, and Mother encouraged me to have her Maester put forth. 'Twas humiliating when Lord Hightower said it was the Citadel's decision, not the King's."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the memory, shame, and regret burning your ears to this day. Ser Arryk chuckled at your recollection and, without thinking better of it, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as a friend or companion would. He recoiled faster than a striking snake once he realized, clenching his fist behind his back in abashment.

You peered at him curiously with a raised brow, assessing the situation. The knight had forgotten himself, acting more of an acquaintance than a protector. Some of you wanted to dismiss what happened and brush it off as a mistake anyone would make when spending nearly every waking moment with someone. Still, the other more intellectual side saw the opportunity that had just presented itself, and who were you to ignore it?

In your hopes that it was amicable, a grin crossed your face, hooking your opulent arm with his armored one, encouraging him to keep walking and that you weren't offended by his actions. You continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, explaining to him more times that you made a fool of yourself during court and your anxiety with the impending Lords you were about to face. Arryk listened intently, offering consoling words each time you finished, eventually loosening his flexed muscles. Once you were a few paces away from the Council Chambers, you parted from Ser Cargyll with a polite smile, asking him to wait outside the doors until the meeting was done. He, of course, agreed, finding a spot alongside the wall as you entered.

Insecurity flipped your stomach as the few Lords stared at you, each of their expressions one of shock. You gazed back at them, unsure of the reason for their behavior, as your nails dug crescents into your blanched palms. Alicent was the only person with a neutral look, hiding the faint smile on her plush lips between her hands as she sat in the high-backed chair at the end of the long table.

Lord Tyland Lannister smirked as you signaled Aemond to pour a glass of wine, needing the courage the firewater brought. You followed the direction of his eyes, realizing they were on your outfit, glancing between the pearl dragon earrings and necklace to the shimmering gold of your gown. You understood it was something you would have never chosen yourself, more comfortable in your red and dark day-to-day palette, but it was a gift from a princess, and you weren't expecting an impromptu meeting. It would be best if you had changed before attending, you nervously thought.

Lord Beesbury was the last member to join, rushing in with a flurry of robes and parchment, the scrolls tumbling out of his arms. You rose to help him and gathered the fallen documents, ignoring the impatient groans of the men above you. Lord Laymen gave you a grateful smile, dropping the scrolls in a pile on the oak table before seating himself.

Otto Hightower broke the thick silence with a sigh and clap of his hands.

"I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, but I have news regarding aid to the Stepstones," he announced uncharacteristically cheery. "We have received the shipments requested earlier than initially thought, and our Master of Coin's secretary has counted everything himself."

You couldn't hide the annoyed tick of your jaw for not knowing this news first. Lord Laymen was told to come to you regarding when the imports arrived. He was the Master of Coin, and a portion of his duties lay in the imports and exports of Kings Landing. You felt a sense of betrayal at the man, your usual cordial look towards him replaced with an icy one.

"This is wonderful news," Lord Lannister replied boisterously, a smile hidden underneath his beard. "Mayhaps we'll finally be done with this Triarchy nonsense, and Lord Corlys will prevail." The Master of Ships raised his half-empty cup, everyone except for you mimicking his actions. "A toast," he hollered, looking at everyone at the rectangular table as you swiftly lifted your drink to match them, "to the Bastard Princess for finally ending this Gods forsaken war."

"Hear, hear," rang out in the room from all the men, only the two women posing across each other, keeping their mouths shut. You downed the entire contents of the blood-orange wine in one go, swallowing the biting insult that threatened to spill from your mouth at the namesake.

"Thank you, my Lord Tyland, but we shouldn't partake in any victory celebrations yet," you said, false appreciation in your tone. "I would like to see the shipments myself if that is all right with you, Lord Beesbury? 'Tis not that I don't trust your secretary; this project is something dear to me, and I would feel at peace if I were there to ensure it in person."

The older Lord nodded almost ludicrously, "Of course, Princess. We shan't proceed without your approval."

Tossing a saccharine smile to the gentleman under your dark lashes as Lord Jasper chimed in. "Princess, I would like to accompany you in the process. As the Master of Laws, I must ensure they have the required documentation to sail to Dragonstone. We have increased our naval patrol over Blackwater Bay, and I would hate for the goods to be confiscated. If they were, it would be out of my hands then."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Lord Wylde, unable to hide the look of disbelief on your face. It felt like an unnecessary request of Lord Jasper, and it insulted you to have him think he could get away with it. "They got here fine, did they not? Refrain from troubling yourself with such trivial tasks. I would be surprised if those men could even read," you quipped, forgetting the courtly tone excepted of you.

Suddenly, the room went noiseless, the joyful feeling replaced with something else.

"Many would say the same about a woman like yourself—a bastard from the slums of Flea Bottom sitting on the King's Small Council. Most people would think you suited elsewhere," Ser Jasper sneered, slighted by your remarks.

Your face grew scalding, your hands balling into fists on your lap. You couldn't contain the following words, the inherited rage from the Rouge Prince boiling to the surface. "Why? Are you looking for another wife? Gods rest her soul."

Gasps filled the room. Everyone, even the One-Eyed Prince, was stunned at the venom that had just spewed from your lips. It had only been a month since the passing of Lord Jasper's wife, not yet through the mourning period. You wanted to take it back as soon as you sounded it. Not because of how vile it was but because it cracked the mask of righteousness you wore with pride, showing how much you were truly like your reckless father—the man who slaughtered the innocents of Flea Bottom over a decade ago.

"It would fit you better," he snapped, "wailing in pain while you served the only purpose a woman like you is good for."

You shot out from your chair, nostrils flaring and lifting your skirt before thinking better of it in an endeavor to unsheath your dagger.

"Enough!" The Queen shouted, stopping you from doing something you wouldn't survive to regret. "The Princess shall survey the shipments without company. This meeting is finished."

Each member left the chambers like frightened deer; even the Hand himself left in such a hurry that it shocked Queen Alicent herself. You could feel their lingering stares as they went, putting your cutlass back in its proper place before flickering your glare to the only occupants still brave enough to stay. Aemond stared at you with regard of what could only be interpreted as amazement, his one purple eye wide and bow lips parted like a suffocating fish would—Alicent, still seated, staring at her raw cuticles, a shadow cast over her heart-shaped face from her forearms.

You left with a succinct curtsy and newfound gratefulness for the Queen, pushing the hair that had fallen over your shoulders behind you and meeting the bewildered gaze of Ser Arryk. He would undoubtedly heard the loud screech of your chair as you nearly pounced on Ser Jasper Wylde, and you could see the concern etched in the fine lines of his skin. You disregarded his outstretched hand that wishfully asks to link arms again, the skirt of your dress nearly causing you to trip from your brisk pace. Arryk swallowed the bitter discomfort that formed in his throat at the denial and caught up to you with haste.

"Your Grace, are you well?" The knight oppugned.

"Quite well. Thank you, Ser Cargyll," you gagged, swatting away a strand of hair that blew into your mouth. Arryk's armor clanked with his swift gait, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Are you sure, my Lady? I heard a commotion moments before the meeting adjourned," he prodded, hoping you would answer his unasked question.

"I tripped Lord Larys, and he fell into his chair, finally putting the poor cripple out of his misery," you snarled, unsure of your destination as you continued moving. "Is that what you want me to say, hmm?" You stopped abruptly, whipping your body around to face him. "That the wildling bastard Aegon Targaryen found in Flea Bottom is an eel like everyone else? Mayhaps I should go back and live amongst my fellow leeches."

Ser Arryk stared at you in stunned confusion, shock, and befuddlement about where your frustrations and sudden outburst originated.

"Princess-" He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, lips curling and uncurling as he tried to find the proper expressions. Arryk finally gave up, his cerulean stares closing as he straightened his posture, becoming the impersonal Kingsguard he trained to be.

Even in your rage, Arryk still found you beautiful. Your inklike mane was braided skillfully in a half up half down style, golden pearl pins framing the soft features of your countenance. Immediately he buried the thought, a blush dusting across his pale cheeks. He desired desperately that moment he had his helmet covering the pink. You soughed, realizing your anger was misplaced, and crossed your arms, the bronze beads of your dress catching one another.

Before you could apologize, you caught a blur of green in the distance, the Queen Consort walking purposefully towards you, a firm yet serene expression on her soft face. The knight took note of your gaze, no longer on him, and turned, his posture impossibly more tense than before.

You both bowed in unison as she halted, dismissing Ser Arryk with the wave of her emerald and peridot jeweled fingers. Eyeing her curiously, you fell beside her, assuming she wanted to talk privately. Queen Alicent hushed as you trekked the long winding hallways of the Keep, waiting for the palace's inhabitants to thin before speaking.

"Twas unbecoming of Lord Wylde to speak in such a manner. I want to apologize on his behalf Princess," she said, causing your stomach to tighten.

The Queen never apologized; not once could you recall a moment where she indeed had. High-borns never sought remorse for their actions from those beneath them. They believed themselves above such things, especially a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You were just a princess, not even in line for the Iron Throne should something tragic happen to the people before you, and yet Alicent was seeking forgiveness. Not even for her actions!

"I believe your apology is unwarranted; you've done nothing wrong. I should hear this from Lord Jasper and not you, my Queen," you replied, flicking a brown and purple eye at her.

Alicent clasped her hands together, a position they seemed never to leave as she nodded grimly. "Yes, I agree, but he would never wound his pride like that. 'Tis the only thing men like him have."

You couldn't hide your disbelief, trying not to bring attention to your reaction lest she decide to rescind this brief moment of peace between you. While her mocking slightly disarmed your caution, you still trod carefully, not adding anything to what you thought of "men like Lord Jasper Wylde." When Queen Alicent saw you would not further her chaffing, she quieted, the delicate grin on her plush lips fleeting.

"It was sad, what he said," Alicent continued thoughtfully, "about your lineage." You glanced at her from the corners of your eyes, not indicating your thoughts. "It's unfair that you're the only bastard who receives nothing."

You quizzically raised a manicured brow at her, willing your mouth not to scowl. "How so?"

"Your adopted brothers. It is no secret that their father is not who Rhaenyra claims to be." You didn't hide the distaste from your look, ceasing your pace alongside her.

"Careful where you tread, my Queen. Some might think what you're implying is treasonous."

Her nude lips pouted, her aureate viridian earrings swaying as she followed. "I know you believe it to be true. I trust that there is comfort in numbers, I suppose. The more bastards in the House, the more likely one would be willing to accept their claim."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, continuing the direction Alicent had set, yet not knowing where it was to be.

"Truly, I do not understand where this hate of bastards comes from. Men have them more than legitiment ones; why is the Heir not held to the same standard?" you griped, ignoring the Queen's unhurried footfalls to catch up to you.

"Because men do not give their bastards titles. They are not set to inherit what their father has, just as you're not."

You stopped striding again, storming to Alicent like an orange flame emerging from a dragon's throat. "I do not need more titles or gold. My worth is not defined by a piece of parchment or coin like yours." Your chest heaved, the necklace resting upon it, glinting with each breath. "Your implications of my brothers' birth will not be so easily forgotten as the King. My Mother will hear of this, and I-"

"The same Mother who refuses to give you what her sons of equal lineage have?"

The urge to strike her was powerful, your mind a raging inferno of acrimony, anger, and a cold draft of hurt. You quickly shoved it away, focusing on the two you could feel clawing at your ribs to escape. But before you could put your emotions into words, a door opened, a short curly white-haired head peeking out.

Aegon's curious amethyst eyes flitted between you and his Mother, attempting to discern what your clenched fists and red face were about, holding a chalice in his hand. You looked back at Alicent in a mix of malice and disgust for having been so worked up that you didn't realize she had led you to her son's door. Alicent's face was schooled, her back straight and neck high, appearing the ever-regal Queen her father groomed her to be.

"Princess, come," Aegon called, his speech lightly slurred, "join me for a drink. You look like you need one."

You hid the sigh of defeat from Alicent, facing her son with a placid smile. "I do not believe it would be proper of me to join you in your chambers without a chaperone," you countered, though you desired greatly to run into his room and lose the ire of the day.

"You are family, Princess," the Queen chimed in, eager to have you distract her eldest son from drinking too heavily and inevitably embarrassing her.

You glared. She knew of Aegon's unkinship-like desire for you, yet, she was content with practically throwing you into his chambers unsupervised. Every expletive you could think of wanted to be thrown at her, but you held your tongue.

"If her Grace is all right with it," you curtsied, hatred beaming as your voice displayed the opposite. "I shall join you for a drink."

Aegon smiled joyfully, taking a swig of his chalice before opening the door wider as you entered, but not before throwing Alicent a nasty look, the Queen's face unchanging.

You stormed over to the table in the middle of Aegon's greeting room, dragging the simple wooden chair on the stone floor as it screeched. Placing your head within your palms, you huffed, relaxing your constantly tense shoulders as the tipsy Prince sat across you.

"I wasn't lying when I said you look like you need a drink," Aegon teased, furthering his jesting with a slow sip from his cup.

Dismissing him with a shake of your head, you leaned back in your seat with your legs outstretched and face pointed to the ceiling in an unladylike position. You had already drunk an entire bottle worth of alcohol today, and it was only a handful of hours after midday, and waking up the next morn with a cotton mouth and a pounding headache did not seem like a pleasant idea.

"Perhaps I shall make you come, then, for a change." In response, you tilted your head down, your chin tucking into your chest, eyes in incredulous slits. "You always take such good care of me, little one. Let me return the favor."

You couldn't deny that the idea was appealing. It had been ages since you dove into the soothing water that was pleasure, always preoccupied with Aegon, social events, and politicking. The only moments you ever felt that insatiable need the spoiled Prince seemed to have was with him, but more important things were at hand during those moments.

Your pleasure was not a priority, only his. He was the one that needed to become smitten with you. When he finally was, you would give him a choice, stay with his little Princess under the warmth of your bossom, drinking wine and eating all the sweet cakes he could stomach, or die seated on the Iron Throne as your dragon's flames melted the swords into his flesh.

"I do not need tending to, Aegon, but your offer is much appreciated," you replied, standing as you walked toward the open balcony doors.

The air was sweet, filled with the pollination of flowers and trees, the temperature mild, not too hot, nor too cold, a light-sleeved gown sufficient. Aegon quickly followed after you, resuming a mirrored position from the table on the railing, following your gaze to the southern side of Kings Landing.

He wished so ardently for you to give in to your human desires. It had been months of you living within the Red Keep, something Aegon had prayed to the Old Gods and the New since you left him. He spent countless sleepless nights buried high within his cups and deep within women's cunts to cope with his misery, going so far as to request particular whores with the same dark hair as you to bleach a strand to match yours. Nothing worked. It was never enough, never you.

Until now.

The most you had shown Aegon of the cunny he dreamed of was a glimpse on one secret night where his Mother had been particularly cruel with her words, something or other about spending time with his children. You had comforted him with a soothing ballad of kind words and lifting your skirts. Aegon came with such a force that he thought he saw the Stranger. He finally understood why they were called little deaths, for if he had spent like that every time, he would be dead by now.

Aegon perked at your sigh, watching your dress glitter in the sunlight as you crossed your arms. You looked like you belonged to him then, adorned in the same gold and opulence he loved to wear. He imagined then what life would have been like if you became his wife and not his dreamy-eyed sister.

How many children would you have now? Would he still have the twins?

Aegon chuckled at the thought, catching your curious stare as he quieted. No, most certainly not. He would never leave you a moment unswollen if you wed. You would have sired at least six children if your body and the Gods allowed it. Your breasts would weigh heavy on your back, and Aegon, the ever-doting husband, would heal you from that pain. He would fuck you until the babe's head dropped, and you could see its lanugo hair. He would stay by your side through every moment of your birthing despite the impropriety of it. Then, after that, Aegon would care for the wounds his child caused, dabbing at your tender womanhood and applying the ointments the Maester prescribed.

A thumping in Aegon's cock tore him from his fantasies, reeling him into the present. You unmarried and babeless, him a piss poor father for his current children and neglectful husband to his real wife. He brushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to fall into the home that was his self-loathing. You were right across from him, deep into your head. He could give it to you now, what he desired, and see how your little deaths would rake through your whole body.

"I can sense you staring," your voice struck like the water he fell into at Blackwater Bay this past winter, "and why you are doing so. You will not make me come, Aegon. I've no want for it."

"Is that a challenge, little one," he teased, pushing off the red stone banister and sauntering towards you.

"No," you answered, facing him with a steeled expression. "It's a command."

"Awe, but Princess, the look in your eyes says differently."

You guffawed, your brows shooting to your hairline as you tilted your head. "You must be drunk then, for you are seeing things. Come now, let's sober you up."

You signaled for him to follow as you walked back inside, only to be stopped by Aegon's deft hands. He moved you more forcefully than possible, dragging you back to your former spot and caging your legs between his.

"Aegon, be serious," you declared, attempting to move his limbs but failing. Despite his lack of training, Aegon could be relatively strong when he wanted.

"I have waited years for you to return to me. I have cried, alone at night in my chambers, praying that the Gods bring you back." You watched him with a look of surprise and sympathy, reaching your arm out to stroke his cheek, something you knew disarmed him, but he swiftly snatched it. "But they did not answer. Now, I have you, and I shall never let you leave."

Aegon's lips crashed against yours without warning, his pink tongue making its way to tangle with yours. You were frozen at the sudden foreign sensation, leaving your jaw to hang loosely open before he shoved a knee betwixt your thighs. The beads of your dress created harsh pinpricks of pleasure on your pearl, causing your mouth to open and your body to slacken, Aegon deepening the kiss instinctually. Your back arched over the stone railing, the Prince's hold being the only thing to keep you from tumbling to your death, digging your fingers into the fabric of his doublet for leverage. If you were to fall, you would ensure the unspoken heir would do so with you.

Aegon's mouth left yours, taking the chance to regain both your breaths before he dove back in, sucking and nipping at the expanse of your neck. His hands began to explore downward on your body, his nails catching on the metal orbs sewn into the fabric, treading lower, lower, and lower until he bunched the fabric of your skirt in his grip.

"Aegon." You tried to sound firm, but the word became a whimper. Squirming in his grasp to leave, you only became weak, the steady placement of his knee rubbing against that sacred area, turning your muscles to mush. "Stop."

He shushed you in response, nuzzling his nose behind your ear, inhaling the welcoming smell of lavender and dragon. "It's all right, little one. I'm here. You deserve this," he cooed, snaking his palm across your navel and down to your heat.

He felt the hair there, more plentiful than when Aegon last touched it, brushing over the coarse strands before entering a finger between your lips. You cried out at the coldness of his digits against your sensitive core, trying to heat his touch before venturing further.

"You're soaked, sweet girl," he purred into your ear, nibbling at the decorated lobe. "Why do you deny yourself so? You do so much for the kingdom, for your family," Aegon paused, parting your damp lips and sliding a slick finger over your bud as warmth shot through you, "for me." Your leg hitched at his touch, moaning loudly as his pad drew circles.

"I don't-" you wept, cutting yourself off as you felt a coil in your stomach form.

"You don't what?" he mocked, pressing firmer and causing a spark of ecstasy to bolt through you. "Don't want it? No." Aegon shook his head, answering for you. "You don't deserve it? No again. You do more in a day than my wastrel father did during his entire reign."

Aegon went faster now, his finger rubbing harder than before and making you leak onto your thighs. "Don't... talk about your father," you said breathily, your head leaning on his.

You felt the vibration of his laugh in your skull, giving you a momentary peck to your jaw in apology as his other hand dropped the skirt of your gown and wrapped it around your waist to grind into his touch. Your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, the wire inside your abdomen rapidly tightening with each refined movement.

"You deserve this. You know you deserve this," Aegon repeated, using your moistness to go faster. "I want you to say it. I want you to say it when you come," he haughtily commanded, his voice thick.

His fingers were too focused, his touch too good, and you were so, so deprived of intimacy. With a few more circles, rubs, and kisses, you felt the words tumbling off your lips, the coil wound too tight as your neglected cunt soaked his fingers with appreciation.

"I deserve this!" you shouted into the cerulean sky, Aegon's digits working you through your climax. "I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this," you rambled, your body having a mind of its own.

"You do, little one," he praised. "Let them hear it. Let them know your worth."

"I deserve this," you mewled one last time, nodding your head against the side of his resting on your shoulder, looking like the many cats of the Keep marking their scent. Aegon peppered you with kisses as you inhaled gulps of air. Your legs twitched, and you struggled to stand as the aftershocks subsided, held by only the Prince's strength.

It was impossible to think clearly, to fully grasp what had happened. The months, perhaps even years of negligence you spent with self-pleasure, finally coming to a rearing head, clouding your mind. The consequences of your actions failed you. Your only thoughts of how Aegon slowly dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt higher as he looked up with a mischievous yet admirable look in his violet eyes, his mouth latching onto your puffy cunt with a grin.

"One more," he murmured, his moist breath tickling, "I just need one more."

***

Aegon had lied. He did not only pry one more climax from you but three in total. Once on the terrace, back draped over the railing, your hair hanging over the ledge. The second time underneath the caring disguise of wiping away the slick from your core, only to be met with his middle and ring finger inside your tight velvet walls, and finally, the third, with a combination of his tongue and digits.

You knew you shouldn't have trusted the boy. Aegon was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for having an appetite that no amount of whores, food, or wine could satisfy. You didn't realize it extended to another's pleasure also. Your bones were made of the Apple Muse you adored by the end, your muscles so weak from the rapid tensing and untensing as he ripped those little deaths from you.

When all was said and done, the whore of a Prince took great care of you, ensuring your throbbing cunny was clean from both your fluids, and servants brought a pitcher of water.

You were drifting asleep, an action you knew was unwise to do with Aegon around. The possibility of waking with the intrusion of his cock inside your wall was at the forefront of your mind. That fear was the only thing that kept you from drifting off when your body all but screamed for it. You took to speaking with him to distract yourself from rest, reminding him with mumbles that you promised Helaena that you would dine with her tonight. Aegon would have to play the husband's role again and see his children.

It was always difficult to return to Helaena knowing what you had done with him but not the guilt an adulteress would have. Yours was different. Shame that you were playing a game with her husband, knowingly partaking in these acts of scandal towards a goal and not for the pleasure of it. You did not know which was worse.

You were sure that Helaena would not be upset for your actions as a typical Lady Wife would, for she didn't love him like one. You supposed she would be grateful for what you were doing, keeping him away from the Silk Streets, gambling houses, and fighting pits. Ensuring there were no more bastards than there already were running around in Kings Landing. Well, that was what you convinced yourself, at least so you could look at the People's Princess without your sins written across your face.

The timber of Aegon's voice tickled your ear, snapping open your eyes that you didn't realize were closed. "I had the maids tell Helaena that we shall dine in my rooms tonight," he chuckled to himself, pecking you on the cheek with a grin, "since you are in no shape to make the journey to her's."

You nodded, unable to protest, and pushed yourself against the headboard to make yourself more alert. Aegon scooted into place beside you, resting his head on your shoulder while he played with the rings on your fingers.

You still couldn't process what happened; disappointment was the only thing you could feel. The heavy-weighing claws of it tugging on your heart and dragging it into a bottomless dark pit, constantly carrying, pulling, weighing down on you until you felt the searing pricks of tears in your eyes.

You had let yourself down and succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh that had ruined so many great men in history. You promised to focus only on Aegon and his desires, and wrongfully, you thought it would be easy. You had anticipated that the Prince was like all other men with sex, only seeking their release, and hadn't planned for him to seek yours out. By all accounts, Aegon had been just that.

This was the first moment he had wanted you to reach ecstasy during your entire stay. The most Aegon ever begged for was a glimpse of your tits and cunny, working himself in his own hands during the process. Where had the sudden urge to pleasure you emerge from?

Perhaps the plan was going better than you thought. It's only natural for a man to desire a woman's warm embrace eventually. Still, you hadn't realized it would come at the unreciprocating hands of Aegon the Drunk and only for him not to want something in return. You had long ago made peace with the fact that you would endure the tearing of your maidenhead by him and expected nothing more to bear but this... Aegon had opened something locked tightly inside of you, and your mind could not understand it, so it found the only thing it did: hatred. Not hatred towards the eldest Prince but toward yourself.

You loathed yourself for what you did, what you allowed. You would understand the reasonings behind the act if it was only once, but you had allowed Aegon to take, take, take from you, willingly, knowing your morals. It was your fault for what happened. There was no one to blame but yourself.

You searched desperately for anything to justify what happened. Did it bring the unsung heir closer to you? No. You would've had the same results if you had just let him rape you. It further helped make Aegon realize he wanted to be with you more than having riches? No. The climax after edging him ten times would make him learn that. What was the justification?

You hadn't realized your chest began to pant, alarming the Prince beside you to look over in concern. You felt sick at the sight. His perfectly chiseled marble face staring at you with his amethyst eyes twinkling with rising worry, and you rolled off the bed, stumbling. Your body shook, shoulders tensed to your ears as your fists trembled, pacing aimlessly across his room. Succinct gasps left your quivering lips, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall.

Aegon watched with horror as you ran back and forth across the length of his bed chambers like a caged animal. He had no idea what to do, trying to call out to get your attention but receiving no response. Your hands go to your ears, trying to block out the sounds of a near-silent room as you hiccup.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Aegon shuddered with a bone-rattling shake, quickly glancing down and then up to see the dust from his ceiling falling to the floor. An ear-bursting roar boomed through the entirety of King's Landing, causing the filled cups of his room to vibrate in their place. He felt the stone floor shake again with the moving of the dragon's footsteps, no doubt belonging to Cannibal.

Aegon ran to you swiftly at your dragon's second room, seeing the edge of orange flames and smoke rising in the sky from his opened balcony doors. He knew of the bond a rider and their mount possessed, having witnessed it with his own Sunfyre when he too was upset, but never at this length. Cannibal was wild and still barely tamed, unaware of the social norms humans had that the others of his species understood. More roars sounded, but softer this time, as if they were in the distance. Aegon ignored them, focusing on trying to pry your digits that had wound themselves into your braided hair, your scalp blanched and roots nearly showing.

He said your name first, attempting to gather your attention from where it had run off, but that didn't work. Nothing worked. No amount of cooing and soothing, as one would do to a child, made it past your deaf ears. Aegon began to narrowly mirror your panic, his eyes wide as he searched desperately to find a way to calm you down. He had never seen you in such a state, nor anyone else for the matter, and felt the sting of tears gather in his eyes.

"Please, speak to me," he beseeched, voice thick with fear. "I've no clue how to help you."

Your pacing ceased when your slippered foot caught on the misplaced leg of a stool, falling to the ground with a strangled yelp that Cannibal seemed to mimic. Aegon took this time to fall onto the floor next to you, gathering you into his arms as you flailed and booted like a lamb stolen from its Mother. Before he could think better of it, Aegon slapped his hand over your mouth, recalling how he saw a stableboy do that with a spooked colt.

You squirmed and wriggled like a wounded rabbit caught in a snare, screaming like one into his palm as your blunt nails scratched across his cheek. Aegon ignored the stinging, using every ounce of strength he accumulated from training, brawling, and fucking to hold you down, nearly escaping him twice before he laid you underneath him, arm wrapped around your stomach on the icy stone floor. He pinned you there until your struggling ceased, the rapid flaring of your nostrils coming to a halt.

When Cannibal's midnight wings flapped in the air, Aegon knew you were calm, feeling secure enough to release you with the gentle draw of his hands. He let you rest there for what felt like ages, scrutinizing every involuntary twitch of your muscles lest he have to repeat himself. The call of Arbor Red was firm in his veins, but he disregarded it, shuffling until his back hit something to rest on.

The first words out of your mouth were not what he expected, sounding so small and defeated, causing him to pause before he understood briefly. "I must fix my hair before Princess Helaena arrives. Do you have a brush?"

Aegon silently nodded before he realized you could not see him, your cheek still pressed into the floor and facing away. "Yes," he answered aloud, bumbling over to his rarely used oak vanity.

He handed the silver brush as you sat upright and took apart your maids' handy work, fixing the style into something more straightforward and placing the pearl pins accordingly. Aegon observed with caution, keeping at least ten paces from you as if you were a rabid beast. You didn't fault him for it, nor dislike it, simply too numb to feel.

"Is it all right?" You startled Aegon, him taking a moment to realize that you were speaking.

"Of course," he nodded eagerly though you couldn't see, and you hummed in assent.

"The servants should be near done setting the table. We should wait for Helaena and the children there," you stated blandly, rising from your kneeled position and smoothing your dress.

Aegon agreed noiselessly, leading you to his solar as cautiously as he could, watching for any sign that he might lose you again, but there weren't any. Ony the cold countenance of apathy that he had only seen once before when staring at the severed head of your kin. The expression haunted him to this day, guilt rising in his throat like the burning feeling of acid, taking an armchair a respectable distance away.

Masterlist of Series

Once again, I'd like to thank you for your patience during my break. I lived in my George R. R. Martin era, but don't worry; this series won't take 27+ years to finish XD. For some reason, this post won't let me upload my full taglist, so I did it as a reblog in case you wondered why it's different. According to my idea chart, we're a little under halfway through the story, but honestly, it doesn't even feel like it. There are so many things ahead. It's just mind-boggling. Like, there's one point where shit hits the fan, and it's like, "whaaaat". I want to spoil it because it's crazy, but I shall keep my lips sealed. Anyway, thank you so much for reading this chapter and continuing this journey with me!!

Also, did you like my Miss Congeniality reference hidden in there? XD

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suraemoon · 4 months

Text

It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

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“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

#merry christmas #happy new year #very quickly proofread #not beta'd #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #elvis x reader #60s elvis #70s elvis #vintage #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis fluff #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

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