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kaicubus · 1 year

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Art Block | Xavier T.

warnings ✩° : smut, thigh riding, making out, being manhandled, non-intercourse sex, light cursing, pretty tame in terms of degradation and praise.

pairing ✩° : xavier thorpe x fem!reader, all characters are of age aka 18+

premise ✩° : as an artist, sometimes stress becomes a blockage to create. some may say artists need a bit of relief from that.

word count ✩° : 2.4k

authors note ✩° : hi hi!! i hope everyone had a safe and happy new years, heres my gift to you bc i know all of you THIRST over this man just like i do, so heres to a prosperous, healthy, happy new year!!

Making art has always been such an easy task for you. It comes as if it were second nature to illustrate vibrant landscapes and realistic portraits. You're a god at your craft, anyone could tell. Just like you, however, your boyfriend Xavier was the same. Though, like any artist, he occasionally got art block and soon became frustrated with his inability to create art like you.

At times, he resented you for it. Skill and talent came so easy to you after all, so it was hard not to scowl when he was lacking and felt inferior. But Xavier loves you regardless. It’s just that sometimes he wanted to closely observe how you managed to pull it off.

That brings you to now, locked in Xavier’s art shed with no one but him and his black smog surrounding his head, a vivid image of his stress of not producing any art for the past two weeks. Your eyes, glued onto your boyfriend who every now and then would chew on his lip or nails, still failing to even put a splotch of paint on the pristine, white surface in front of him.

You can tell he’s struggling. However, unsure as to what to do to help, you remain quiet. Usually, the answer to Xavier’s small pouts and quiet stares is easy to figure out, let alone fix, but this time, artist to artist, it was a little more complex than that. Still, you wanted to help as much as possible, even if that meant staying with him for a few more hours.

Suddenly, an irritated sigh breaks your thought process and you look up at the source.

“Xavier when are you going to stop sulking and actually do something?” You groan as well.

Your boyfriend’s brows arch downwards, softly adjacent to his slightly cracked, wet lips parted to reveal the tips of his top teeth. His expression of dazed shock makes you laugh. “I’m sorry, was there something you had in mind of me doing to get rid of this art block? Perhaps, I don’t know, not verbally assaulting me every few seconds?” He cracks a lighthearted grin.

“Oh come on,” You lean on your open palm and smile, “No art is bad art, unless you know, it’s traced...or completely ripped off...or it’s corporate art.”

“Y/n.”

“Sorry, sorry. But whatever you do is going to be great, so just create already! I’m this close to getting some food and coming back, I feel like it’s going to be a while which I’m ready to stand by for.”

With a swift hand, Xavier runs his fingers through his hair and ties his loose, long locks into a messy ponytail. Watching him is somewhat mesmerizing, maybe because his hair is so soft and so long, effortlessly healthy, and his fingers are so slender and...before you know it his hair is already put up. Xavier presses his lips together and raises his brows, letting out a soft breath of air.

“You know,” Xavier starts, leaning back on his palms and looking towards your direction, “It’s hard to focus when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You reply, cluelessly, “What am I doing? I’m just watching.”

“Yeah. Watching.” He clears his throat free from built up stress and gives you a small grin, “Why don’t you come over here instead of looking like a creep?” It’s a joke, but part of it was true since your posture was similar to a crunched up creep, hugging your knees to your chest on a bar stool, surrealistically misplaced in the middle of the entire shed just watching your boyfriend struggle to meet his paintbrush to the canvas.

“Well I don’t want to mess you up. I’ll stay right here.”You point down.

Xavier sighs and shakes his head, turning now to face you completely, “Y/n I’ll focus better if you come and sit by me. Maybe then we can get out of here. I mean, you’re welcome to leave if you really want to. It might take a while.”

“No no, I want to stay. Maybe you just need some motivation? A muse? Some music to inspire you? I always listen to music when I draw, and it works.”

Your smile makes his eyebrows twitch into a thoughtful expression. Instead of taking your advice of music or having a muse, he gets another idea and puts his paintbrush down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he just needs the motivation.

“You know what would actually help me?” Xavier nibbles on his bottom lip slightly and looks down, “If you…”

You watch as Xavier taps the tops of his thighs and looks at you with a muffled grin.

“Sit here?” He says finally, a hidden excitement changes his face and causes him to look away for a split second, then back with a more calm aura. He’s trying so badly to contain himself, but you know him too well to carelessly glaze over it, so you decide to tease him a bit.

“Why? Is this motivation for you? Or do you just want to procrastinate?” You smile and stand up from your stool, making your way over to your boyfriend slowly.

“I just thought,” he chuckles breathlessly, “Maybe having you here will turn the gears in my head or something.” His half minded suggestion makes your chest flutter.

“Oh yeah? Really. Is that it?” You sit down on top of Xavier’s lap and wrap your legs perfectly around his waist, “I wouldn’t mind if it were for something else.”

“Not necessarily...”

“Hm?” you hum warmly and gently touch the back of his neck, sending an unexpected shiver down Xavier’s spine, “Not necessarily?”

There was always a feeling of bubbling confidence inside you whenever you knew there was something Xavier wanted. Maybe it’s the specific glint in his big, hazel eyes as he looks up into yours that sends your senses fuzzy and hinders your thought process, but in the next moment you know, your lips are on his and his hands find their rightful place, hugging your hips and digging into your thighs.

With a snug fit, squeezing both legs around his singular one, you situate yourself to where the middle of your legs is properly sat on his thigh. The position is almost natural by the way you seemingly snap onto him as if you were a rubber band reverting back to its meant to be place. Xavier grins a bit into your pliant mouth, making his way onto your tongue with short and abrupt licks.

Desperate to please him and find release yourself, your body starts moving on its own, hips rutting against the roughness of his jeans. Pressing the growing heat surging between your legs onto Xavier’s cold thigh sends an mellow shiver in your system, allowing you to go faster to warm your seat for all the comfort you can get.

Much to his pleasure, Xavier’s mouth stretches out into a thin and permissive smile, unable to hide his satisfaction any longer. Soon enough, mumbles of praise fall just beneath his breath in drawn out, low whispers.

“That’s it,” Xavier says deeply, tickling the raised hair on your neck, “Keep going.”

Following his words, you stuff your face deeper into the fabric of his hoodie and tangle your fingers in the strings, knotting your joints into the ropes for any sort of stability. Your desperation only makes him smile more, biting his tongue in secret as he looks around, happy and content with how he’s able to make such a mess out of you by just getting off on his thigh. Let alone his own words and guidance.

Xavier lowers his big hands to cusp the very edge of your ass, giving it a tight squeeze to earn another breathless moan from you. As if your senses are heightened to their max potential, every feather like touch drives you crazier by the second.

Attempting to catch your breath, you sink your teeth into your boyfriend’s hoodie, using the softness as a means to suppress your mewls of arousal as best as you can. But as he continues to massage your hips and manually move you back and forth on his leg, the effort quickly becomes useless.

“W-Wait a second, Xav—IER!” You're cut off by a blunt force nearly punching your gut, rendering you speechless and sending your hips stuttering. Almost as if he knows, Xavier grins and continues to grind your hips down on a newfound sensitive spot, eager to abuse it more.

“Does that feel good?” Xavier questions, pressing his mouth against the side of your face, “There? Right here?”

You want to speak, but the feeling that rolls inside of your body, moving your muscles to keep rubbing yourself on him doesn't allow you too. Instead, you try again to slow down, this time hoping to go unnoticed by Xavier as you hide your advances with deeper strokes. It doesn't go unnoticed though.

“Huh? No, no, Y/n why are you slowing down?” He leans down and runs the tips of his teeth along the outer shell of your ear once he feels your momentum slow. “You tired?” Xavier chuckles deeply, his condescending tone only making you more weak and immobile.

“X-Xavier it’s too much,” you whimper and grip onto his arm, “I can’t.”

“Can’t? You're really that sensitive you need a break? Come on, I know you can do better than that.”

You shudder in response and find your pace again, faster and longer, continuing to knead yourself against the fabric of his pants. Just as you think there might be a chance you'll get a break, Xavier suddenly picks up his leg and starts bouncing it up and down, moving his head down to see your flushed expression.

Just as he’d imagined, your lips are well parted and your face, well reddened from all the embarrassment and teasing he’s putting you through. For a second, you glance up and meet his gaze, only able to make out his smug yet curious face before you slam your face back into his shoulder and let out a loud moan of ecstasy in response to his bouncing.

“A-Ah, yeah. Does it feel good this way? Better?” Xavier’s breath tickles your ear, reminding you just how close he is.

If this was his way of torturing you, he was sure milking every opportunity of making your life hell. It was working. And he loved it. You pick your head up groggily from his chest and lock eyes with your almost sadistic looking boyfriend and exhale hesitantly, unable to breathe smoothly.

“M-Mhm...It feels so good, Xavier...please don’t s-stop!” You grit your teeth as soon as he hears the words and grips onto your hips roughly, “Hngh!”

”Don’t stop?” Xavier coos, “I’m barely doing anything. I can do more if you really want, if it’ll help you get off faster.”

You didn’t need anything else, you just needed a bit more time. But you didn’t want to just tell him that and feed into his slowly growing hungered desires. The look in his eyes as they burned into your being was hard enough to deal with as it is, what more could he do? Much more, actually. But you two are on a time crunch, as a reminder of your surroundings and the start of the whole thing, Xavier’s paintbrush falls off its uneven platform and startles both you and him.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend curses quietly, “I can’t focus on that right now.” Knowing you're so close to release makes his patience run thin, and just as you can’t wait for much longer, he can’t either.

Suddenly, Xavier jerks his hips up, catching you off guard and making you cry out instantly, unprepared to counter the pressure pushing up onto your sore cunt. His moment of vigorous movement causes you to fall onto his chest and hold onto Xavier’s arms.

“AHN!” Your head instinctively gets thrown back from all the built up pleasure and finally, you feel your entire body tremble with an immense jittering feeling. Xavier only helps you ride out your orgasm and holds you in place, making small ruts against himself with your spastic thighs gripping around him tighter.

“S-Shit. Oh my God—” He hugs you close and locks his lips over yours, biting down on your bottom lip just enough to secure you in place and refusing to let go. Even though his shed is in the forest away from most people, there’s something inside of him, something possessive, that only wants all the noises you make to be heard by him and him only.

You whine into his mouth and buck against him again and again, making sure to make your orgasm count. Little whimpers fill his throat and he only hums back with a shit eating grin on his face.

When he finally pulls away from you, he watches as a string of saliva breaks and falls against your lips, but you're too tired to wipe your mouth. Xavier opens his mouth and lets out a soft breath of a mixture of pity and laughter seeing you so fucked out and blissfully numb.

“That was so fucking cute, holy shit.” He gives you a toothy grin and swipes his thumb over your swollen and wet lips, moving his attention to your wide and teary eyes once they're dry and still just as soft as they were before when his lips were on yours.

“Ah, hah, ha...” Your relaxation comes out in the form of several pants. As your chest heaves, Xavier just stares at you, softly reassuring you as he combs his fingers through your shirt and up your back.

His soft touches are more than enough to comfort you, but he continues, “So so so good for me...” He glances down at you and grins, “Yeah, good girl.”

Xavier pulls away, looking at your red and sweaty face as well as your equally drenched thighs, grinning at how much your body irks forward and lurches back to the slightest movement of his arms snaking around your sides. The sight of your lips, wet with drool and your eyes, soaked in a slight film of tears pleases him, playing a grin upon his own lips. Before you could question what he was thinking, Xavier’s eyes flicker from your face down to your lower half, your position, your fluttering feeling on his leg. Something about it all made it able for the gears in Xavier’s tortured artist mind to finally spin.

You looked stunning, the perfect picture, and just what he needed to see in order to finally step out of his artist block. If he said otherwise, he’d be lying through his teeth.

Just as he rubs your back fondly, tenderly, and warmly, Xavier kisses your shoulder and drags the tip of his finger along the arch of your back. “Don’t move, I have an idea for a painting.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #x reader #wednesday series #wednesday imagine #wednesday fanfiction #Wednesday #xavier thorpe smut #smut #smut fanfiction #kaicubus

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littlemspeachy · 25 days

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Crazy To Love You

(Feyd x Reader)

Summary: You hated him. You hated his planet. You were the sun and the stars. Of warmth and gold. Yet, for some reason, you do find black appealing.

Note: While this is a reader insert, there are mentions of brown skin, but other than that, it's fairly neutral

Warnings: 18+ content near the end but nothing explicit, mentions of blood and use of the word whore.

Word Count: 2.35K

Part II

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Everyone said there was something complex about him. About the man you were about to marry. In her opinion, there was nothing complex about the man. He was easy to figure out and it didn't take a shrink to realize that. He was violent and cold. Obsessed with blood and the cries of a man he knew he was about to kill.

He was nothing special and yet here you were getting ready to get sent away.

"You are to marry him." Lady Jessica coolly responded while she watched your maids put the finishing jewelry into your hair and bodice.

You stared at her from the reflection of your vanity mirror.

"You don't get better than this. You're a daughter of your fathers' whore-" She started angrily.

"Get out of my head. The least you could do is that." You snapped before the Reverend Mother walked through the door.

"I don't understand how you managed to raise such a disobedient child," The older woman dragged.

"And child I don't understand how you could be so stupid." She said smacking you on the back of your head.

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror before applying lining your lips with a soft brown and filling the rest of the empty space with a dark red. And no, you weren't stupid to not know what was going on. Lady Jessica messed up and bore a son and so in the eyes of the Reverend Mother, you were the best choice. You were still of the Duke's blood and by marrying the na-baron and producing an heir you would bring the houses together and create a perfect union. You knew this, you knew this ever since you came of age. You knew it more and more in every etiquette lesson.

Raised like cattle for slaughter. Or not slaughter but more so for breeding.

A knock on your chambers broke you from your thought process, you looked to your door to see your brother peek into the room.

"He's here."

You sent the young man a small smile before standing and heading out with Lady Jessica and the Reverend.

Your ladies-in-waiting walked silently behind you with your luggage in hand. They too knew of the rumors of the man you were bound to marry. The grotesque nature of his uncle and family.

The warmth of the sun warmed your skin, but it didn't seem to reach past it. You had known these halls all your life. Stared at the paintings and art that decorated the walls. You'll miss the yellow of the sun that allowed your brown to become even richer in the warmer months.

When you were younger your nursed like to joke that if there were goddesses you had to have been the child of the sun. Unfortunately, today proved that no such being existed because why would she curse her child to a polluted waste land with a sun as black as night.

They arrived at large doors to the negotiation room. Guards of both families lining the walls. You followed the two older women into the room while your ladies-in-waiting stayed outside.

You sat next to Paul and across from your husband to be.

Feyd was... Not stunned no. Not amused either. He had heard about you as a child and adolescent and even met you at some point in those years. Yet here he was, intrigued. You looked almost entirely out of place and in place at the same time. He could tell you were strong willed, but then again, any man in the room could tell that.

You sat with your back straight and head high. Your eye's moved to each person as they spoke.

As much as he would never admit it. You were beautiful. Not seductive, not sensual. You were beautiful. You're skin complimentary to the gold in your hair and the gold threads in your bodice. Your skin shined in the lazy afternoon sun. Your lips plump and decorated in red. You were stunning.

"Then it is settled. You two will be wed by the next full moon," Feyds uncle rasped, a greedy smile upon his lips while he stared at you intently.

"Come it is getting late and we must make our way back. Have her maids put her items on our ship. There's to be a solar disturbance. And I don't want to be here longer than I need to, this heat is starting to annoy me."

You swallowed intensely. "No."

All eyes snapped to you. Feyd tilted his head slightly to the side in curiosity. 'A fighter' he mused. This should be interested.

"I have never been Giedi Prime, and since I am to be married in a week, I would like my family to join me, a proper wedding, and an introduction to your culture and customs. There is more than enough time to organize my request." You stared at the two leading men at the table. Inside you were shaking and fearing the worse. While you still had enough status to marry into a High Family, it didn't take away the fact that you were born out of wedlock. But fortunately, your voice stayed strong and didn't betray your nerves.

Lady Jessica started to open her mouth to reprimand her but was cut off by laughter. Well, it was more of a bark but humor present, nonetheless.

"I agree to your terms, child." Feyd's uncle said staring at you.

"I do not understand." Lady Jessica muttered staring at you in horror.

"This will either be the greatest match in all the high families. Or the worst thing to come from your House."

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw flaring. The handshakes and contracts were signed.

You walked silently and quickly to the informal meeting place of your home. Maids scrambling to get other items for your family and to leave promptly. Lady Jessica hot on your tail and delivered a quick slap to your face when you turned around.

"How dare you embarrass us like this."

"Not to intrude on family... matters... But as she is my bride, I'd prefer if you don't leave marks on her. That should be my job soon enough." A voice said boredly.

She whipped her head to look behind her and stared at the pale man behind her. Before gritting her teeth, giving a small curtsy and walking out quickly.

"It's impolite for us to be together without a chaperone." You stated. Eyes following his every move. You didn't trust him. How could you? He was a bloody murder, that craved blood and bones. You would consider him uncivilized if it wasn't for the fact that he came from a royal bloodline.

"Hmm, you see something you like?"

You squeezed your dress in your hand to stop you from being annoyed and rolling your eyes.

"You know I heard you were sweet. Demure. But you seem to like a fight."

"A fight that was not, my lord. Just a request. I am to be whisked away to a place where I am nobody and have no rights outside of you. So yes, requesting my family and have a civil wedding, is the most basic request."

He gave you a smirk. Him slowly getting close to you, almost like a snake. "You sure are mouthy, I hope it's the same on our wedding night." He whispered, closely to your ear.

His hot breath sending a chill up your spine. You watched him walk past you to the window. He was incredibly pale and hairless. No blemish or scar in sight. Was that genetics or cosmetic you would never know. How dark was it on his planet to make someone so pale? Paul was pale, but his skin warmed and tanned during the warmer months.

You glowed in the sun; you understood the sun. The sun gave light, it gave colors. A black sun... Would strip things of light. Nothing exists in a sun like that.

The reality of your situation started to bare its weight on your shoulders. You knew why they needed the marriage to work, you knew why you needed to produce an heir. It would create an alliance forged in blood, it would tie your two kingdoms together and prevented them from going to war. It would protect your kingdoms economy and exports. But why a place so cold in dark. How were you to live? To raise a child or children. How were you going to raise your children. With dreams and fantasies of a kingdom they'll never know. Shall they become their father? Murderous and craving madness and death?

You let in a deep breath, to help settle you. You were to be married and have a child. That's it. You were raised to do so and do it you will. Nothing more, nothing less.

"We are ready for departure your majesties." A voice rang through the room.

You nodded at the man before taking a look back at Feyd and realizing that he's been staring at you the whole time.

The next few days were spent learning about their "castle", which in your opinion was a bland fortress meant to keep people out and in. The days were spent watching bloody sparring matches in preparation for his big fight and preparing for the wedding.

Skin was cleaned and body was scrubbed clean. Herbs and foods to increase fertility feed three times a day. Lessons on how to "please a man" in way too much detail. Nothing like what you expected your wedding day to look like. When you were younger you imagined white dresses and days of getting to know your soon to be husband by the waves. Intimate and flushed glances at each other over dinner. Excitement and butterflies. And all there was to greet you was darkness. Black suns and pale heads greeted you at every corner. You prayed your child you look more like you. Or at least a mix.

You woke up to the sound of your sun alarm. You're glad you brought it with you. It imitated actual sun light and reminded you of home and warmth. You cuddled back into the pillows when you realized your maids weren't there. Breakfast and a long intensive bath could wait. You hardly did anything and yet had intensive baths every morning and night. After five days you were surprised, you had any skin left.

Feyd watched you silently doze off again, perched away in a corned you have not seem to realize. He chuckled lightly at the last time you fully conversed. 'Not polite.' What he was going to do in one days' time wouldn't be very polite to her parents either.

He watched you as you walked softly to the vanity you had set up in your room. It was simply a desk and a small mirror, but it worked for what it was. For what you had access too.

You hummed lightly to yourself as you took your scarf off your head and took out the rollers. The maids given to you had no idea what they were doing when it came to your hair. It was the last thing that you had for yourself... Only yourself.

Feyd walked over silently, almost leaning down to your ear whipping backwards and grabbing your wrist.

No words were said, outside of the sound of heavy breathing.

The two of you stared intensely at each other before the man's eyes wondered over to the knife in your hand. Sharp and ready to sink into the next victim.

He raised what you assumed would've been a brow if he wasn't hairless.

"Did you intend to kill me."

"It didn't matter if it was you. The knife was intended for whomever decided to get that close to me without out announcing themselves." You spat.

He smirked at you, "So you do know how to take care of yourself."

"My father didn't raise a stupid damsel."

"Very clearly he didn't."

You two stared at each other before he went and bite your collarbone. A guttural groan coming from his throat as he smelt your rose body oils from the night before.

You gasped, shocked, your hand dropping the knife and your body arching towards his. A surprising mix of sharp pain and pleasure dancing through your body to your fingertips.

"I thought you hated me?" He whispered grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep eye contact.

Truth be told as much as you hated his home, his planet, the whole preparation of practically being wedded purely for alliance reasons. You got used to the idea of being his.

He was smart and quick on his feet. Intelligent and willing to amuse your intellectual ideas. He let you fight him and berate him when you were alone. He guarded you and defended you. And he was taken with you the moment he met you. Many women were raised to be obedient, silent, and just take what was given to them. If he was going to become the Baron one day he'd need a woman that was going to raise his children to be strong. Your union was perfect, anything that he lacked you had.

"I hate you invading my space. If you wanted to come you could've asked or at least told me." You stated. A terrible and needy heat starting to fill your body.

He smirked at you before crashing your lips together. Teeth and tongue clashing in a battle of dominance. His hands threading through your hair and yours finally getting the relief of feeling his body.

You broke away to breath, head being lifted by the upwards pull of your hair.

"I would love to continue this but, this is impolite, remember." He said breathlessly, backing up slowly.

You stared back at him. Becoming painfully aware of the want in your core and the electricity running through your body needing release.

"Fuck you."

Feyd laughed at your temper tantrum before leaving your room and leaving you to deal with the mess he started.

#fanfic #dune x reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x you #black reader

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baldval · 1 month

Note

Hiii! How are ya? can I request Valentino x reader who works for vox? But not only do they work for him they have created a anime and game for it under him? So like they’re a well known manga artist type ting? So yeah they’re not a nobody basically

if not that’s fine! Have a good day/night dear :)

ART DECO PART 1!₊˚⊹♡

characters: valentino x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: curse words, mentions of sex, making out, suggestive content.

a/n: i might do a part 2 if you guys like this!!

series masterlist!

You're bored.

To the exterior eye, working for THE Vox may be a dream. Cash, cars, designer clothes, big fancy functions filled with important hell-people and overlords. It sounds perfect.

It isn't. Between stupid rivalries, betrayals, and VERY dramatic bosses, being one of the top content producers for Vox is smothering work. But you'd rather have that than being nothing. At the very least, being so close to the Vees grants you protection.

This evening, you discover yourself at yet another 'emergency' call from Vox. Something something about losing views and how this most be the radio demon's fault. It's the 4th time this week.

You arrived at Vox's place, yet you can't really see him anywhere.

"Umm... Velvette" the girl looks up at you from the couch, unbothered.

"Watcha need sweetheart?" she moves her eyes back to her phone.

"Do you know where Vox is? He kinda called me on emergency basis? I'm not really sure what he need though."

"I have no idea where that shithead's been. He didn't even go to the last meeting with the overlords." She rolls her eyes. "He had to send me."

"Oh alright so no idea." You feel frustrated.

"You could of course ask Val"

"Did anyone say my name?" You smell him before he enters your eyeline. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells expensive. Not the faux, gawdy expensive like most men within Vox's circle, but truly extravagant.

"So dramatic." Velvette mumbles, eyes still on the screen.

You feel him before you turn around. He’s warm, and broad, and the crisp white material of his dress shirt is pressing into you. You gasp quietly at his boldness, praying that Velvette doesn't notice how close you are to him.

Valentino.

Vox's second in charge. Both an overlord and the owner of the largest movie studio. One of the greatest assholes in Hell.

The man you’re hopelessly in love with.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You truly hadn't meant for this to get this far.

Initially, it was sex. Brilliant, mid blowing, earth shattering sex.

Until it wasn't.

Now, it's late night phone calls and clandestine meetings and holding hands and apartment hunting and kisses on the forehead.

Now, it's genuine.

Vox would murder you if he found out.

You'd be shunned. Everything you'd worked for. Everything you'd created. Suddenly you don't exist. It's all Vox's.

If there was one thing you liked about your deal with Vox was the fact that he allowed your things to be yours.

People knew what you had created and they knew it was created by you.

You didn't want to lose that.

Essentially, it'd be worse than hell, which you're already in. So why do you keep finding yourself considering it?

You’ve never been loved like this. So total, so complete, so all consuming. So unconditional.

And it's true that Valentino has nothing to lose. If Vox finds out, he won't be affected at all.

But he keeps it a secret.

And you're pretty sure you know why.

You wake up to kiss him all over his face. You dance within the kitchen, as he spins you around in your socks. You see how he stares at you when in a meeting, analysing your face.

You ran into love headfirst, impulsively. Would you have slept with Valentino that night, well over a year ago, if you'd have known this is how it'd turn out? You're not sure. But all you know is that, right now, the risk is more than worth it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You with me, sweetheart?" he mumbles into your ear, warm breath raising the hairs on your neck.

"Yeah, Val," you murmur back, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. "I'm here."

"Where did you go, huh?"

His fingers travel down your neck, drawing little figures on your back.

"Just daydreaming," you answer.

"About what?" he asks teasingly, caressing your skin in delicate movements. Back, forth. Back, forth. He's making it difficult to concentrate.

“You,” you whisper discreetly. He you loud and clear. “Always you.”

He needs to kiss you. God, he needs to kiss you. He needs to grab your face and smash his lips to yours, consequences be damned. He wants to pick you up and twirl you around and scream "look at the woman I love!"

Instead, his fingers tighten around your waist. He looks around carefully before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear. Then, he moves to stand in front of you. To anyone else, it looks like two colleagues having a conversation.

"You look so fuckin' wonderful in that dress," he tells you, his voice bound with sincerity and admiration. His eyes are raking up and down your frame. The heat of his gaze making you warm.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you tease. That’s an understatement. His suit fits him like a glove, perfectly tailored to all of his curves. It’s all crisp edges and careful lines. He’s wearing the cufflinks you got him for his birthday, the ones engraved with the both of your initials. The letters are small, tucked away on the underside. No one knows they’re there – your little secret.

Valentino winks at you as you stand up, going to take a step forward, but a hand on your arm stops you.

"Vox was aking where you were. The meeting already started, come on." Vox's assistant acompanies you towards Vox's office.

As you walk through the lobby you whisper to Velvette.

"No idea he was in his office, huh?" perhaps you were trying your luck, but in all honesty, Vox had pretty much as much respect for Velvette as he had for you.

"Do you think I care where that asshole is? I'm not his nanny." She talks back, louder, so that you can hear her as you enter the door.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There's a pull between you and Val. It's like a magnetic force, dragging you together no matter where you are , or what you're doing. You're feeling it within the dull board gatherings. You feel it in the dull 'Vees Team' gatherings. You feel it at the functions he’s reluctantly invited to by Vox. You feel it now, as you try not fall asleep at Vox's words of how you all should double the work and double the content. He says that as if animating was that easy.

You allow your mind to drift away, dreaming of what awaits you later tonight. You can picture it perfectly. You and Val, curled up in bed, his penthouse bedroom illuminated by candlelight. Glasses of wine discarded on the night stand, sheets thrown across the mattress, legs tangled together. Skin pressed to skin, warmth seeping into your bones. Gentle melodies filling the room, the man underneath you humming softly into your ear. If this is hell, you’ll think. then it might just be better than heaven.

The second you get out of the meeting, you feel his eyes on you. Heat prickles over your skin, goosebumps rising. It's kinda like a 6th sense, this quiet communication between you. You capture his gaze and wink, and you swear you see him blush slightly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and gestures in the direction of the door. You get the hint, and follow him, trailingly behind subtly.

You reach the corridor and look around, but Valentino is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, you feel a warm grip grab your hips, pressing you into the wall.

"Been holding up to urge my hands on you all night," he mumbles into your ear.

He's trailing his fingers up and down your sides. You can feel him, hot and difficult behind you, groaning as he bites at your throat. He kisses the hinge of your jaw, and after that your cheek. It's forbidden and it's provocative and it's so tender it makes your knees wobble.

"Come to my room," he begs. "Vox is so distracted with that Radio Demon that he won't realise."

The offer is tempting. So, so tempting. But there's currently so many people in the Vees' house. Any of them could see you enter the same room… suspicions arise. As easy as it would be to just say fuck it and tell everyone, your survival instinct tells you it wouldn't be the best idea. You want to stay in this little bubble of warmth and love and trust a little longer.

You want to stay happy a little longer.

“We can’t,” you whine. “Someone might notice.”

"I don’t give a fuck," he replies.

"Of course you don't."

"You shouldn’t either."

You want to disagree, but the way he’s moved his hand to sit at your throat while pressing himself into you is making it hard to think.

"Live a little, baby," he teases, nipping at your ear.

"Fine! Fuck, fine. Let’s go before I change my mind."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes blink open, sunlight streaming through the sheer window ornaments. You're resting comfortably on Val's chest, both of his solid arms wrapped around you. You yawn languidly.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Oh. That. You check the clock on the nightstand, realising that it’s only 7am. On a Saturday. Who’s knocking on the door at 7am on a Saturday morning?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck, is the noise getting louder? You push Valentino carefully, waking him up.

"There's someone banging at your door," you whisper.

He groans and untangles his legs from yours. He puts on a pair of boxers, and moves towards the door.

You listen intently, curious to know who’s trying to gain Valentino’s attention so determinedly.

The door swings open.

"Vox?" he questions, and you can almost hear the fear in his voice.

“Hey Val. Did you see where the fuck y/n went to?”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel headcanon #cursed cat alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #the vees #valentino x you #valentino headcanons

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crushmeeren · 3 months

Text

Art by @birf__ on X — link to their account here.

Warnings; Mentions of injuries, Cursing, Kissing, Marijuana Use, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Fem Reader

Or: You just want to spend one more easy night with Dabi before the entirety of Japan goes to hell.

Note; this is a completely re-edited, revised, reworked version of my previous Dabi/Reader—I deleted the previous one.

MDNI

It’s almost funny, you think, as you lean against the wall of the Leagues newest hideout. The reason you were convinced to join the A team in the first place—to go a long with Shigaraki’s convoluted plans.

It wasn’t Stain. Hell, it wasn’t even Shigaraki himself. It sure as fuck wasn’t All for One.

No, it was the scarred, absolutely deranged, blue eyed psycho that has daddy issues. The man who creates flames that burn over 2500 degrees celsius at their hottest, higher than Endeavors. The bastard.

To be fair, you didn’t know he had daddy issues when you saw him on TV for the first time. Yet, you saw the emotion in his eyes. Rage.

It flared, crackling brightly—hotter than the flames he produces himself.

It forced something to melt and seep into your bones, making your skin feel too tight, itchy, in an all too familiar way. You recognized another emotion on his face, one you were well acquainted with. Revenge.

You stopped at nothing to seek him out after that. Inevitably, you found him.

Now here you are, watching Dabi make, what equates to, a self-introduction video.  You’ve heard the story from him multiple times, you’ve seen him make the video over and over again. He’s shared his past and you’ve shared yours. You know people say Dabi may not feel much, hell even he says that. They say he’s heartless, cold, insane.

And—he is, but he’s also much more than that to you.

He’s kind to you, in his own twisted way, but he loves you, as much as he’s able to.

Which compared to “normal people” is actually quite a lot. Some would place him on the level of obsessed, unhealthy.

Although, who are you to judge? You act the exact same way towards him. Both of you would incinerate the world for each other, literally.

You also know he wants this video to be his own version of Dantes Inferno, about his journey navigating through hell since he was a kid.

You’ve had many conversations with Dabi about how much of a toll this takes on him. As if he’s weighted down by concrete tied to his ankles. Usually he gets so worked up that smoke ends up seeping through the seams of his staples by the end of it.

Nevertheless, he’s releasing the video tomorrow—whether it’s time for Shiagaraki to wake the hell up or not. No matter what, it’s going to rock the hero society. It’ll crumble the facade they have worked so hard to maintain. You’re lucky enough to know who he really is, the rest of the league, and the world, doesn’t. Yet.

You’re here for support, to make sure he actually gets the video fucking done, before you’re heading off for the day. Doing some sort of asinine errand for the Doc to help keep Shigaraki’s ass alive while he soaks in that vat.

You already decided that later tonight, you’re going make sure Dabi remembers he’s got you to come home too. No matter what happens after the world sees behind the veil.

After some time, you’re still leaning against the wall on the side of the room. Letting little flames ignite from your fingertips, just playing around, having one flame dance from finger to finger.

It’s another thing that had attracted you to Dabi. Even though flame quirks are a dime a dozen, and his flames burn hotter, it made you feel like you were similar, in a way.

Noticing that he’s stopped talking you look up, putting out the flame with a wave of your hand. You watch him walk to the camera to turn it off.

He was shirtless for the video. It shows off how lean he is, but it also shows all the burn scars that cross his chest and torso, up his neck and under his eyes. His hair is white right now and the staples holding him together shine under the light from overhead.

For a beat you remember how cool they feel pressing against your skin when Dabi pins you face down on the bed.

Your body flushes, warmth swirling in your belly. Being in love with a man like Dabi means he takes up most of the space in your brain, running wildly through your thoughts constantly.

To add on it’s not just Dabi you love, it’s Touya too. You know you’re not doing a very good idea of hiding the way your eyes trail his body when he speaks up. Smooth, low voice rumbling from his chest.

“You know, it’s rude to stare baby,” Dabi murmurs, inclining his head slightly to look at you. His gaze is sharp but his lips are pulled into a lazy catlike grin.

Embarrassment shoots through you like a shot. A swarm of butterflies inside you.

Using your hands, you set them behind you and push off the wall, trying to form a response. Nobody else but Dabi makes you act like you’ve swallowed your tongue whole.

“Maybe I just like what I see,” you tease, trying to ignore the way your cheeks are pink now. Dabi turns to face you as you walk up to him.

You can’t get over how he looms over you as you crane your neck to look up at him. The grin never leaves his face. He tugs playfully at a lock of hair that had fallen from your bun. You swallow involuntarily.

“Oh? You’re one to talk. I could fuck you where you stand,” he flirts, looking oh so casual the whole time.

Dabi twirls the same strand of hair around his finger, before letting it go. He radiates heat and it’s a bit like standing too close to a bonfire.

It toes the line of too hot, like your skin would start to melt if you got too close.

Your eyes flutter shut from the warmth, and you taking a deep, steadying breath, willing away the lust that burns in your belly.

You desperately try to remember that now is not the time to let Dabi fuck you silly.

You reluctantly take a step back, only now realizing how close the two of you had gotten. Later, you remind yourself, trying to cool down.

Dabi pushes out his lower lip, pretending to pout.

“Dabi, c’mon, you know I’ve got to go soon. I just wanted to make sure you got this finished today,” you say with a sigh.

Dabi rolls his eyes, no doubt irritated they have you doing bullshit errands. You get it, you feel the same, but you know it’s just less of a hassle to get it done.

It’s not like you don’t want Shigaraki to wake up soon. The crazy, itchy fucker has grown on you.

Besides, you want to get the plan moving and all. Dabi knows this, yet it still pisses him off. He waves a hand dismissively, before turning back to the camera.

“Whatever, go on then,” he snaps. Your lips press into a line, the sting of hurt pulsing in your chest briefly.

You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to leave without saying much else. You’re not willing to get into it with him right now, the video has clearly already got him riled up.

Before you can take a step, a blistering palm grabs your forearm, turning you back around. You raise an eyebrow as you meet his intense gaze.

“Yes?” you bite back. Dabi stares down at you, hand trailing down to grip your wrist, wrapping his fingers around as a bracelet. His expression stays sharp, blue eyes piercing.

“Just come back to me tonight, okay?” Dabi demands, an underlying note of concern lacing his tone.

You can’t bite back the smile that pulls at your lips, previous hurt washed away by your adoration for the deranged man in front of you. You nod.

“I will Touya,” you whisper softly.

You tend not to use his real name often, only when you need him to know you’re serious.

It makes his eye twitch, his stomach more often than not twisting in fury when he hears it.

Not with you though. The way his name falls from your lips—he’d be remiss if he didn’t admit it soothes the open wound it’s left behind.

Without another word, Dabi bends down, brushing a kiss over your cheek, letting your wrist go. Your skin tingles where his lips were, the rough texture of his lower one always tickles. You smile softly.

Swiftly you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in return.

“Love you too, dickhead!” You call out playfully, letting the door swing shut behind you. Dabi scoffs watching you go, but he wears, a small, loving smile at your jab.

He already wishes for the night. As long as can be with you again.

————————————————————

You’re covered in soot and ashes. Smelling like a fucking bonfire gone wrong. The flesh of your hands is singed, stinging.

Generally, it happens when you overuse your quirk. The skin sizzles, steam rising from the reddened flesh. You shake your hands out as you walk, thanking God that it looks worse than it is. It’ll heal relatively quickly.

You’ve managed to procure only a couple bruises though, so you count yourself even luckier. You know Dabi will be fucking pissed either way.

You always have to talk him down from eviscerating the Doc when you wind up coming home banged up from one of his errands.

To top it off, it’s way later than when you normally return from these idiotic missions. It’s well past midnight and you’re sure Dabi is close to committing arson.

The job was a waste of your time. Granted, you admit you may have been a little distracted. You couldn’t stop thinking about the night that lay ahead of you and Dabi.

It’s hard to burn down that many buildings, discreetly, when you’re not focused 100%. You almost got caught at the last building.

Hence the new dark purple splotches covering your left bicep. They throb slightly when you accidentally brush your fingers over them. It’s a miracle you made it out, but you’re not telling Dabi that.

Walking into the front door of the, more or less mansion that is the hideout, you notice it’s quiet in the living room.

None of the usuals that hang out are down here. You look around quickly, thinking maybe you’d catch a glance of Dabi. You scowl when you don’t see his spiky white hair anywhere. You swiped something on the way home, an item that will help the two of you relax. It sits heavy in your back pocket.

You desperately want the two of you to enjoy the night before the world explodes into chaos tomorrow.

You slip your hand into your pocket, just to make sure it’s still there. Your finger tips trace the pre-rolled joints you snagged. You smile coyly to yourself, feeling your heart beat harshly against your rib cage.

A pleasant shiver rolls down your spine as you recall the last time you and Dabi had sex higher than a kite.

Smoking weed isn’t necessarily something you and Dabi do often, but when you get the chance you certainly take advantage of it.

How could you say no? Your body feels relaxed and warm, like your joints are made of butter. The pleasure is always dialed to a 10.

You know Dabi fucking loves it, the one chance he gets to truly relax. You make your way to the stairs as you chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your thoughts.

You’re hoping that once Dabi sees you’re okay, and that you have joints, he won’t be too tempted to set the mansion on fire.

You walk swiftly to your room. You pass by Mr. Compress on the way, the two of you wave in greeting. The sound of your combat boots echo on the wooden floor as you round the corner, stopping at your door.

The door is closed but that’s not unusual. Eagerly, you turn the handle and push open the door. It’s pitch black inside. That…is odd actually. Your grin quickly fades as you step inside, curious, you flip on the low light to the room.

Dabi’s not here. You feel an unwarranted flash of irritation at the realization.

As cliche as it sounds, recently you’ve been finding him playing some sort of game on his desk top computer. You’re not sure he’s ever played one before now and he seems to thoroughly enjoy it. Your chest warms as you think about him getting to experience some sort of normalcy.

However, he’s not at the desk. He’s not anywhere in your room. You shut the door behind you and walk in further. Shoving the feeling of annoyance down your throat, you remind yourself that the villain has got to be somewhere around the hideout.

Hoping he’ll pop up soon you decide it’s best to take a shower. To wash off the layer of disgusting ash you’re covered in.

Setting the joints on your dresser, you strip your nasty clothes off and throw them to the side. You grab one of Dabi’s shirts, one with a skull on it and nothing else before making your way into the en-suite bathroom.

As you stand under the spray of the scalding water, it feels unbelievable. The water acting as a much needed massage for your sore muscles.

You scrub yourself clean, hissing as the soap causes a burning sensation in your hands. You examine the newly pink, sensitive skin of your palms and flex your sore fingers.

The curtain suddenly rips open halfway and you scream loudly, arms flailing wildly. Your head whips to the side, heart in your throat as you see a smug looking Dabi. You place a hand on your chest feeling your thundering pulse.

“You fucking jack ass! You scared the shit out of me! Where the hell have you been?” you shout, angrily flinging water at his face.

The man laughs as he brings his hand up in surrender, covering his face from your retaliation. You let out a frustrated noise, quickly turning the water off to face him. You push his at chest, wetting his shirt and he grips the shower curtain with one hand—laughing.

“I got restless waiting for you. I was with Spinner, who wouldn’t stop yapping about some new video game. I saw Compress and he told me he saw you on your way up. I wanted to fuck with you.” He grins wolfishly, staples near the corner of his mouth tugging at the skin there. You scowl, glaring at him playfully.

“You’re such dick, ya know that?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from smiling widely at him.

Truthfully, you know nobody else sees this playful side of Dabi. The fact that you’re privy to it, it’s like knowing the world’s greatest secret. You’re grateful.

“Yet you stay with me, princess. Seems like you just love my dick that much.” You blush at his teasing, but there’s no denying it.

Dabi smirks, taking the chance to let his gaze lazily trail up and down your naked, wet body slowly, appreciating your form.

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully, popping your hip out, placing your hand there. It pulls a laugh from him and he gives you a wink. The sound of it sets your nerves alight.

You feel him go still, expression distorting into something feral. You know he’s found the new, rather large, bruises peppering your left bicep. He trails his fingers over them softly with his free hand. You wince.

Instantly the sickening scent of burning plastic floods your nose. You glance and see Dabi’s melting the shower curtain in his death grip.

“Touya!” You gasp. “I’m okay, really, I’m fine. Please, look at me,” you soothe, gripping his wrist. You place your free hand on his cheek to force him to meet your gaze. “It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention,” you continue in a gentle voice, running your thumb over the scarred flesh under his left eye.

He lets out a pained noise, hesitantly letting go of the curtain. You take the opportunity, quickly lacing your fingers with his.

You take a peak at the curtain again, seeing a hand print has been melted into it. Dabi tugs on your hand, asking for your attention.

He stares intensely at your face, pupils tracking back and forth rapidly, looking a bit wild and he speaks, voice like gravel.

“Fucking idiots. Sending you out, letting you get fucked up. If I fucking see that Doc again before Shigaraki wakes up, I’m incinerating him,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. His voice is low, menacing. It does not turn you on.

Dabi grips the wet hair at the nape of your neck, squeezing. Your breath catches, scalp tingling.

A torrent of warmth rushes through you, pussy clenching around nothing.

It never fails to turn you on when he’s like this. Protective, possessive. It makes syrupy heat drip down your spine.

You shiver, not just from the chill of being naked, when you realize you’re still dripping wet. Unfortunately, you need a towel.

“I know Touya,” You laugh. “ I won’t stop you.” You squeeze his hand. “But hey, I brought a surprise for you! So can you please hand me a towel?” You plead, looking at him through your lashes.

Touya doesn’t move for a moment, considering your words, before his expression mellows out. He sighs heavily.

Releasing his grip on your hair, he trails his rough fingers over your jaw. He lets go of your other hand and turns to grab a towel from the cabinet.

You lift up your arms, wiggling your fingers happily and wait. He sweetly wraps the cloth around your back and crosses it over your chest, tucking it into itself so it stays in place. You beam at him, letting your arms fall to hold it in place.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me not to commit murder tonight. Show me the surprise,” Dabi concedes, catlike grin settling into his expression once again. You breathe a sigh of relief, stepping out of the shower. You balance with a hand on his arm.

“I got us joints! I figured some good weed would help us relax and,” you trail your finger over his jaw, biting your lip coyly. You lean in, whispering sensually to him. “I was hoping we could have some fun later, if you know what I mean.”

Standing up straight, you smile smugly, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself, watching his reaction. His head tilts back in delighted laughter.

“That’s the best idea you could’ve had. Let’s go get high out of our minds and then I’ll fuck you into the mattress,” he purrs, grabbing the shirt you left to change into and tugging you along out of the bathroom.

You watch his lean frame from behind, admiring him as he walks. Fuck he’s so hot - and you aren’t talking literally.

Once you’re near the bed the two of you release each other. He hands you your shirt and you let your towel unwind, tossing it to the side.

Touya’s hand comes out of nowhere to smack your bare ass sharply. The pain flares, making you yelp.

“Touya!” You scold. “Fuck off for a second will you?” you joke. “Let me at least put my shirt on.” You slip the clothing over your head as you speak, gathering your wet hair into a braid.

Touya snorts. You look at him with a raised brow as he’s taking his own clothes off. Your eyes linger for a moment on the V shape that disappears into his underwear. He winks at you in return when he catches your stare, but you just roll your eyes.

“Why are you even putting clothes on? You know I’m just going to get you naked later,” Touya complains as he crawls onto your shared bed. He leans his back against the headboard. Touya looks at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him as he shoves his long, pale legs under the blanket.

“Yes I know, but I still get cold sometimes, plus I like this shirt, it’s soft,” you reply, picking up the joints from your dresser, turning the overhead light off, and shimmying up the bed to him.

You make it a point to sit so your thigh and arm are squished against his as you recline next him. You use a pillow to support your lower back.

“You know I can keep you just as warm baby,” Touya coos, pulling up the soft fuzzy blanket that covers your bed so you can get your own legs underneath.

He lets it rest at your waist. Touya gently warms the space beneath and you swallow a moan. It feels amazing. Turning your head to look at him, you smile lazily. He wiggles his eyebrows as you hold up a joint to him, urging him to light it.

“I know, and later on you’re gonna make me sweat,” you tease, watching as he smirks.

He doesn’t even watch as he uses his finger to light the joint. A little blue flame that instantly eats the paper, setting it alight.

You kiss his cheek in thanks, selfishly taking the first drag. Fuck, it tastes like heaven. A twisted version of lemon flavor bursts across your tongue. It’s sweet, but also bitter.

You let the smoke swirl in your lungs while you hold your breath. Letting it out in a long exhale, the smoke ghosts across Touya’s face. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, groaning as he breathes out.

After a joint and a half in, you’re feeling the perfect level of high. You’re leaning your head on Touya’s shoulder, studying your fingertips.

You’re something akin to the warm butter that melts on top of pancakes. Your head feels fuzzy and you know Touya is in the clouds.

”Baby,” Touya softly calls for you, tone low and smooth. His honeyed voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your head feels heavy when you lift it, looking at him with a dopey grin.

“Hmm?” you try to ask. Managing to giggle in response. He tilts his head down towards you. He’s wearing a matching lazy grin, his eyes half-lidded.

“Let me shot gun you baby,” he murmurs, taking the last large inhale from the joint. He holds his breath and puts out the joint on his palm, laying the roach on the bedside table.

You nod happily, stomach unbearably warm as you lean towards him. You let your mouth fall open obediently.

Touya looks sly, meeting you halfway. His different textured lips pressing to yours easily, slightly opened as he slowly pushes the smoke out of his lungs and into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed as the tendrils of smoke roll into your mouth. It makes you feel a bit feverish and everything feels like it’s rolling in slow motion.

You inhale equally as slow, taking your time, pulling it into your lungs. It makes you feel dizzy. You hold it for a moment, until your chest starts to burn and then you break from the kiss.

Turning your head minutely, you let it all out in one breath. Your tongue slips out to lick your lower lip, the aftertaste from the joint making your mouth water.

You slide your gaze to Touya’s. He brings his hand up, letting his fingers rest on your jaw as he runs a thumb over the lip you just licked. His eyes burn with a low heat, like embers.

“Feeling high baby?” he whispers, leaning a bit closer, lips only a couple centimeters from yours. He’s gentle, holding your jaw, fingers pressing in on both sides now.

Your eyes are lidded and it feels like his rich voice physically melts through your skin, into your veins. You admire how pretty his face is, feeling your pussy throb. You bite your lip and nod, tickling a hand over his collarbone. He shivers.

“So high,” you giggle and whisper your next sentence, as if you’re telling him a secret. “Will you fuck me now…Touya?”

Touya’s fingers twitch before they slide down to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. The staples on his wrist scratch at your neck. He’s studying your face, letting his lips pull into a wicked grin. He moves forward, brushing his mouth against yours.

“With pleasure baby girl,” he rumbles, pressing the words into your lips. You moan into his mouth, kissing him slowly over and over.

You’re just starting to lick into his mouth when he puts pressure on your windpipe and you get the message, breaking the kiss with a whine.

He laughs softly as he releases your neck and you shift until you’re lying down flat on the bed, head resting on the pillow.

The change in position makes the room spin and you blink your eyes slowly. You’ve planted your feet on the bed, letting your legs fall open. Moving around makes your shirt rise up to your hips, slick pussy on display for Touya.

You’re so wet and it’s too hot in the room, your face heats again and sweat trails down your temple.

The only light in the room is from the TV you had turned on absently. Yet, you can still see Touya’s chest. He has his own light sheen of sweat covering his skin. His nipples are hard.

The white haired man maneuvers to get in between your thighs. He sits back on his calves, palms resting on the tops of your knee as he takes a look at your soft, pink pussy.

The sight makes his cock ache, straining to be free from his briefs. He feels his tip positively leaking, sticking to the soft material.

“C‘mere Touya,” you whine softly, reaching your arms out for him. His expression is relaxed, loving as he bends to your will, resting his forearms on either side of your head.

You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. Your lips slide together eagerly. The heat between the two of you is blazing.

His bottom lip is rough but the texture makes you moan every time. He easily slips he tongue inside your mouth, rolling your tongues together and you bite the delicate muscle briefly. He lets out a low moan, breaking the kiss.

“Goddammit baby, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he groans, voice wrecked as he sucks marks in a line up your neck, gripping the hem of your shirt.

“Please,” you beg, the word sticking to the inside of your throat. Touya doesn’t hesitate, sitting back momentarily to free you of your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him.

The air brings a slight chill, making your nipples hard. Goosebumps erupt along your chest and you groan. Touya rests his hands on your soft belly, dick jumping, drooling as he takes in your naked body. His large, warm palms cover most of the skin there, fingers splayed on your ribs.

His eyes are red and glossy as they trail over your tits, noticing your nipples are pretty little pebbles. God, he’s so hard, so fucking turned on.

He quickly shoves his underwear off, the urge to be naked swallowing him whole. His cock bobs free as it catches on the waistband of his briefs. You watch, catching sight of the curly white hair resting just above the base.

He settles again between your legs, gripping his shaft and squeezing briefly for some relief. His own touch feels electric and he moans through his teeth. He knows you’ll feel a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s quick to swipe his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he drags it up to your clit, starting to massage slow circles there.

You choke on an inhale, head feeling heavy. Your limbs feel like jello, warmth flowing through you. You hum, reaching out to wrap a hand around the silky smooth skin of his shaft. He lets out a broken moan when you pump his cock, letting his foreskin pull back.

“Touya, c’mon, pretty please? Don’t wanna wait,” you say with breathy sigh. You keep stroking his cock, twisting your wrist upwards and he groans, sounding breathless.

“You don’t have to ask me twice baby, you know how much I love fucking your sweet cunt,” he purrs, looking exactly like the Cheshire Cat.

He places a hand on each of your inner thighs, spreading you open a little more. You tilt your hips up a little, so you can guide his thick cock inside of you. You tease yourself, sliding his tip over your swollen clit. You let out a low curse as it sends electricity up your spine.

A short whine slips through Touya’s lips as the head of his cock presses in smoothly. You remove your hand, letting him do the rest as he stretches your pussy completely. You tilt your head back on the pillow as you start clenching around him.

“Oh, fu-nnngh! Touya, that feels so good!” you cry out, thoughts disjointed. You tremble at the overwhelming pleasure, white knuckling the pillow under you.

You’re sure you could cum just from the stretch of his cock alone. You chance a look at your boyfriend, panting.

His eyebrows are scrunched and he’s gritting his teeth, eyes locked on where he’s disappeared inside you. Warm pussy wrapped around him perfectly.

“Shit,” he curses lowly. “You’re so fucking tight,” he laughs incredulously rocking his hips shallowly.

His own mind is fuzzy, body high so intense he could sob. You lay there and take it beautifully as he starts to fuck you for real, slow and deep.

Your limbs are like lead, and you’ve all but become one with the mattress, the pleasure is all you can focus on. The sound of your skin smacking together makes your ears burn. You’re watching the way his fingers grip your thighs, the way the muscles in his lower abdomen flex with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot Touya, God - I can’t,” you all but sob. You can’t focus on anything else but the way his cock drags in and out of your pussy. Touya hums softly and leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed, caging you between. You look up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want baby? Hmm? Tell me,” he pants, voice smoldering. Your entire body flushes even hotter. Quirk raising up just below your skin and you keep your hands from the sheets for fear of turning them to ash.

Letting out a low moan, you grip his forearms, he can take the heat of your quirk. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your scalding palms make contact with his skin.

You’re able to keep it under control for now. You take note of the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. He watches them, eyes almost unfocused, unfazed by the blistering heat of your palms, before his gaze locks with yours when you start to speak.

“Want you to fuck me from behind, please,” you mumble, words blending together as you try to keep your eyes open. The pleasure is making your brain feel thick.

“Fuck yes, turn that pretty ass around,” he agrees, leaning back and pulling his cock free. It bounces slightly and you notice he’s glistening from your slick, notching your arousal up by a few degrees.

You don’t waste a second, rolling over onto your belly. The sensation of moving underwater is what you would compare it to.

You raise up on your knees, showing off the curve of your spine as you rest your cheek on the mattress below. The sheets are soft, caressing your skin as you nuzzle against it, distractedly.

You’re gripping the sheets by your head when you feel Touya’s palm crack harshly against your ass making you jolt forward.

“Ah!” You whine into the sheets. He must’ve heated his hand, because you can feel your ass almost blistering from where he spanked you.

You assume that’s some sort of revenge from what you did to his forearms earlier. Not that it matters, the pain and pleasure mix together even better.

“Look at you, so obedient. You want me to fuck you like a dog, don’t you?” He teases, words sitting heavy on his tongue.

He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head between your lips, parting them easily.

You open your mouth to answer but you’re cut off. He’s already bullying his way back into you without abandon.

Touya grips your hips tight enough you worry he’s gripping the bone. His cock throbs, your pussy feels tighter this way.

It’s making his head spin, watching himself pull out, cock shiny and slick, before filling you once again. His heart thumps hard in his rib cage, thinking about just how much he fucking loves you.

“Oh god.” You shove your face into the mattress as Touya starts to move hard and fast. His cock filling you out perfectly with each thrust.

The friction is blistering, pleasure burning through your limbs. He presses his hands into your lower back, pushing the arch in your spine to its breaking point and he uses his weight to fuck you.

His cock bullies your sweet spot again and again, ripping muffled screams from your throat and into the mattress.

You’re starting to squirm under him, overly sensitive while he pushes you closer to your peak. You unconsciously try to crawl away from him, but he notices. You’ve started to fist the sheets again, for any kind of leverage.

“That’s the spot, isn’t baby? You’re so cute, trying to crawl away from me. You’re not fucking going anywhere. Be good, baby girl,” he demands, voice like gravel. He leans forward to brace one hand on the back of your neck, pinning you down.

He lets his other hand rest on the middle of your lower back, pressing down there too. How you’re able to keep your knees under you is beyond you. The first heavy thrust after that has you wailing, eyes stinging with tears.

“Fuck! Touya, right there, don’t stop,” you beg, feeling small underneath him. The pleasure is overwhelming. It’s not long at all before a knot starts to wind up taught in your lower abdomen. You try to warn him.

“Go ahead princess, I’ve got you. Cum for me, I want to feel it,” Touya purrs, bending forward to brace one hand by your head. The other still pining you down by the back of the neck.

The staples adorning his wrist feel cold against your overheated flesh. Oddly enough, the difference in temperature is what pushes you over the edge.

You cum, hard. Pussy fluttering, gripping Touya so tight you can’t believe he’s still sliding in and out of you. Heat gushes through you in waves, curling your toes.

“Oh!” you gasp, a pressure building in your bladder. “You’re gonna make me squirt,” you groan. Fingernails bite into your skin, warm breath is against your ear.

“Then fucking do it baby,” he breathes, never slowing his pace. A thrill runs through you, fingers curling in the sheets.

Pleasure ripples through you as you squirt. Soaking the sheets and Touya’s inner thighs. Your mouth stays open in a silent scream.

Touya moans in your ear, whispering words of encouragement. You feel his cock start to twitch inside you as you come down from your high.

Touya murmurs sweet nothings against your ear, letting you know he’s about to cum.

You let him know how much you want it, how much you want to feel him fill you up—and he does just that. Pressing all the way in until his balls fit against your pussy.   Touya cums with a noise that sounds like it’s been punched from his chest. Huffing as he nudges your knees out from you, so you both collapse to the mattress.

You both catch you breath for a moment, Touya letting himself go soft before he makes a move to pull out.   Touya rolls off you gently, onto his back. You breathe a sigh of relief, turning your head to see if his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle, cheeks flushed from the strenuous movements.

“I’m great,” you laugh, poking his ribs. He chuckles, giving you a half smile. “Can you get me a towel? Seeing as it’s your fault I’m a mess now,” you tease. Touya rolls his eyes playfully.

You roll over onto your back as retreats to get a towel, returning swiftly.

”Thank you,” you hum, cleaning yourself the best you can, not bothering to put clothes back on as you get under the blankets.

You sigh happily, turning on your side as the bed dips. Touya settles down facing you, snaking an arm around your waist to tug you closer.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingers down the side of his face, stopping to press on one of his staples under his eye.   “I love you,” he replies, just as softly.

”I’ll follow you to hell, you know that, right?” You say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs, leaning forward to brush a kiss over your forehead.

“I know. I’ll incinerate the world for you, you know that, right?” He teases. You laugh softly, nodding as you kiss him once more.

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha smut #touya smut #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #mha x reader #mha dabi #mha todoroki

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signedeclipse · 11 months

Note

Hello, it's me again! 🫣 I loved your headcanons about the blind reader! Especially the ones with Hantengu. 😊

This time I would like to request headcanons for Hantengu, Gyokko and Douma with a reader who has a chronic disease. I know this is a serious subject but it's very close to my heart because I suffer from one. I wondered how the demons would react to a partner who has chronic pain and often feels sick. They feel frustrated with themselves and get angry when they can't do certain things because of their illness. I can imagine that they envy the demons for their strength and health and have thought about becoming a demon themselves. They sometimes push themselves too much because they want to keep up with their demonic partner. But when their illness isn't flaring up, they always want to be as active as possible and be close to their partner.

Thank you in advance! Hope you have a wonderful day! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Douma | Gyokko | Hantengu [X Reader]

In which their s/o is struggling with their chronic pain and tries to push it aside.

Douma

He was always glad that the cold climate you had living with him helped, since for many it was more harmful than helpful

He was familiar with the idea that coolness helped inflammation and helped your body regulate, but he also had to make sure you weren't overdoing it and getting yourself sick

Douma can almost feel your guilt whenever he steps in, so he does his best to remind you in ways that seem less like him telling you

'Can you warm my jacket for me?'

'Could you get the fire started and watch over it until I get back?'

While it may feel good, it makes you more prone to staying out too long and medicine can be hard to get his hands on during certain times

The worst part for him is being so high ranked, because he knows you know of his strength

Will hide it and down play it all the time in hopes you stop thinking about it so often

How impressive could it be if it hurts his favourite human?

Douma would like you to join him in being a demon someday, but he hopes its because you want to be with him as opposed to because you want to escape yourself

Gyokko

His poison art was actually inspired by the fact that he produces a lot of antidotes for some of your more physical ailments to help soothe the feeling

Think aloe vera but so much better

Might even say you can only get it if you hug him so he can produce it where you touch him, but he won't force it if it's really bad and you just want to rest

He has fought in front of you before, so you've seen his regenerative capabilities and the ways he bounces back in seconds, its honestly irritating at times

If only you could sprout a new immune system, or some new joints

Gyokko insists that it's painful and more excruciating than it seems, but he's kind of lying just because he doesn;t want you to feel so inclined to demonise

He makes mini pots for the medicines and salves he learns to make with cork lids so you can use them when you need

Your own personal pharmacist but so so so much better

Hentengu

He's always found himself to be extremely weak and unlucky

But you manage to be so much more unfortunate than him, so he worries for and cries for you more than he does himself

You were so kind to love him, and yet the world cursed you terribly? It's so unfair

Worries that you could die anytime from your ailments even if you tell him that isn't how it works, so he prefers to remain in a range of you to which he can hear your breathing or heart rate

The clones are more than happy to keep you in shape, but Sekido especially keeps you from trying to match them in any way shape or form

"It's ridiculous to expect results like this as a human, we have lived for centuries you haven't."

Whenever you feel light headed or need fresh air Urogi will take you for a little flight, usually by a body of water such as the ocean to enjoy the best air possible

Karaku just jokes that he has enough muscle for the both of you so you'd be greedy to get even more muscular, I mean, leave some for the rest of the clones!

Hates the idea of turning you into a demon but any day if its really bad and you are in enough agony he would do it just to see you smile again

Authors Note - Originally I wasn't planning to do this request because I don't suffer from any chronic pain, but a friend of mine who does decided to beta read so here we are! I hope these can help in some way, wishing you the best <3

#douma #douma x reader #gyokko #gyokko x reader #hantengu #hantengu x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #kny x reader #kny headcanons #headcanons #x reader #reader insert

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jaimeslanisters · 9 months

Text

dominoes cascading in a line — the library

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

You beam, bright and happy, and he wonders if the real treasure in the Rock wasn’t in its gold or its wealth but rather in the daughters it produced. or moments in aemond's life with a lady of house lannister

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 2.5k notes: surprise bitch. i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me i promised you guys a dominoes before pawn, didn't i? (: pawn will be coming up and i will be hitting 100k with the next chapter lol sos

Aemond had been six when he first realized his father didn’t love him. It hadn’t been a momentous occasion or anything like that. There hadn’t been an offhand comment or a particular action that had prompted this realization, no big dramatic scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He had just looked up one day and looked at his father, at the rotting king in all of his glory, and known that Viserys Targaryen would never care for any of his children with Alicent Hightower, that he would be a stranger to all but one of his children.

He had been six and it had been his birthday.

The children of Viserys Targaryen had had differing responses to that disquieting truth. Aegon lashed out, drinking and whoring and failing at being anything resembling a leal son. Helaena turned inwards, closing herself off from everyone except her brothers, focusing her attention on caring for her insects in a way their father would never do for her. Daeron was inarguably delusional about the whole thing. Father loves us! He’d used to cry, face bright and red, fists clenched at his side. It’s just really hard for him to show it! He loves us! He loves us! He loves us!

At least, he had been delusional. Across the continent in Oldtown, perhaps he had come to terms with it. Father hadn’t gone along to accompany him and say goodbye even if Lord Hand Lyonel Strong had tried to insist on it, had wanted to frame it like an act of goodwill and diplomacy.

Father had said no. He hadn’t given a reason or tried to excuse his behavior. He simply hadn’t wanted to.

Even Daeron couldn’t be foolish enough to try and twist that truth.

Aegon strayed. Helaena hid. Daeron lied.

Aemond couldn’t afford to do the same.

If his siblings couldn’t confront the truth, couldn’t face it, he would. He would be their shield, their sword.

That involved training with the knights in the yard, focusing rather than goofing off like Aegon and their Velaryon nephews. It involved learning all the warrior arts and practicing until he felt like he was about to collapse and then continuing to train past that point until he actually did.

But mostly it involved studying.

Otto Hightower no longer lived in King’s Landing - he hadn’t since even before Aemond had been born - but that did not mean he had relinquished his tight control on his family that still remained in the capitol. His grandfather must have exhausted the ravens and the couriers with the long journey from Oldtown to King’s Landing, sending a couple of letters every month. Sometimes there would be one for Helaena and those were usually accompanied by an ivory statue of a bug or a book that he bought her as a present. Rarely there would be one for Aegon and his brother would always read it as soon as it was handed to him and tear it to shreds as soon as he was done. Once, Aemond had managed to snatch it from him before he could and, in the seconds before Aegon had tackled him to the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of violence, he had managed to catch onto one line.

The greatest curse onto this family is that you were born before Aemond.

It had been easy to let Aegon snatch the letter away after that. He hadn’t tried to get a hold of another letter since.

His grandfather had plenty to say to Aemond directly as it was.

There was always a letter for Aemond from Grandfather. Otto Hightower was not an affectionate man and the letters were always dry and straight to the point, outlining lessons and books that Aemond needed to read if he was to be a good and faithful son of House Targaryen. Rarely did he ever express any emotions in his words and, if he did, it was always shadowed by a sharp reminder of his duty to his family and to the realm.

Still, reading his letters always made Aemond desperately wish that his grandfather was still the Lord Hand, that he was still in the capitol to personally supervise his studying, to give him critiques and the rare praise.

Otto Hightower was a cold father. A poor father if his mother’s neurosis was anything to go off of.

But a poor father was better than no father at all.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand through the process, certainly didn’t want anyone to. Years of being on his own with only books for company had trained him well. He was used to holing up in the library, hidden away in the back by stacks and stacks of books with only an old, half-deaf septon for company. People didn’t usually come looking for him but people never came looking for him in the library.

Which is why it was especially a surprise when you stumble onto his hiding spot, eyes wide like a doe.

Since the week of your arrival, admittedly, Aemond has been avoiding you. If he thinks back to it, about how his cheeks had flamed red with embarrassment, how you had smiled and he had thought there was never anything as beautiful in the world, he wants to throw himself off the highest tower in the Red Keep out of pure and utter shame.

As sweet as you are and as kind as you can be, you’re a Lannister.

People always said that there was no limit to Lannister pride or ambition and that certainly had to be true for even a little lioness like yourself.

You might be kinder and sweeter than Aemond had thought you would initially be but that didn’t change the fact that there was only one reason that a daughter of House Lannister would stray so far from the Rock.

You were looking for a husband and, if there really was no limit to Lannister ambition, you could only have one goal set in mind.

Aegon.

With the image of you turning your pretty smiles onto Aegon playing before his eyes, he straightens up in his seat as you slow to a stop in front of him.

“My apologies, my prince. I did not expect to find anyone else here.” You say, stumbling slightly over your words in your rush to explain yourself. In your arms, you clutch a book tightly to your chest and it’s only the fact that he’s read that specific book more than a dozen times over that he can recognize it without seeing the name.

His throat is dry and there’s nothing he wants more badly than to just nod and turn back to taking extensive notes on the history of the Andals landing in the Fingers and stubbornly ignoring your existence.

Instead, he rises to his feet, bowing his head, wishing desperately he didn’t feel that slight warmth inside of his chest. “It’s no problem.” He looks down at the book in your arms and, before he can stop himself, he blurts out. “Are you reading Watchers on the Wall?”

You nod, smiling, and Aemond wonders if this is how animals feel when they first stumble into a trap, when their feet land into the snare and they’re yanked upwards to dangle defenselessly.

It can’t be. He doubts they enjoy it as much.

He starts pushing you on the book, carefully and cautiously. You may have just convinced someone else to give you a summary of it, after all, in order to endear yourself to the royal family.

But just as you had when you had first met him, you catch him off guard again.

You’re sharp and quick-witted and, if the fact that you had asked Maester Rodrik to give you further insight on Brandon the Breaker meant anything, you were just as voracious with learning as he was.

He wants to resent you.

He wants to resent you so bad.

But he can’t, not with the way your eyes light up as you talk about the Wall, about the Night’s King and his corpse queen. You lean in close to him, closer than anyone who wasn’t a member of his family has ever done. It’s not inappropriate, nothing that someone would scold or deride you for, but it’s closer than anyone has ever wanted to be to him.

It’s intoxicating and, for once, Aemond understands why Aegon is constantly imbibing, why he drinks more wine than he does water.

If it feels as nice as this does, some of his brother’s behavior finally makes sense.

When you finish your conversation, and you rise to your feet to leave, Aemond feels an unfamiliar panic rise up in him and, before he can think it through, he speaks. “If you’re not busy, you can stay and read some more. There are other stories in the book that I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on.”

You smile as bright and lovely as ever.

You settle back in your seat and Aemond turns back to his notes except now, he can’t think about the crossing of the Andals, can’t make his mind focus on all of the petty kings that had fought in vain against the invaders. All he can think is about how the two of you are sitting close enough that, when you flip a page in your book, the sleeve of your dress catches on his tunic.

It’s all appropriate. You’re both ten. You’re children sitting and reading in a library. Not even the most pious septon could find fault nor could the most insidious gossip find any fodder for their rumors.

But it doesn’t stop his heart from beating loud and hard in his chest.

No one ever wants to be this close, save his mother.

There must be something wrong with you. There must be. Perhaps you think that he’ll tell Aegon about your sweetness, about your cleverness, and your desire to learn.

He won’t care, he wants to tell you. He won’t care about anything except for what’s between your legs.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits with you, listening to the sound of you turning the pages quietly and the rustle of your clothing.

Eventually, he turns back to his notes, forcing his eyes to focus on the book in front of him.

House Shell was only one of several Houses to ally with the Andals when they first arrived, believing that their only chance of survival was capitulating to the vastly stronger invading force. Their faith was ill-placed.

Eventually, he gets a fraction of his focus back but you’re still there, teasing at the periphery. Occasionally he’ll get a whiff of the fragrant oil that you must use in your hair or you’ll hum or mumble about something you read. You don’t just fade into the background. You seemingly are impossible to minimize, impossible to shove into a box.

Aemond sighs, wishing he was stronger. How could he be a loyal and brave son of House Targaryen if the first pretty girl to give him attention made his head spin like this? What would his mother say? What would Grandfather say?

He continues to read, burying his head deep into the book until the only thing he can think about is the Shells - the Shells and the complete and total destruction of their House. He focuses on the story of Dywen Shell, about how the Andal warlords roasted him inside his own longhall. He focuses until he can hear the screams and wails of the Shell family as they watched their patriarch burn, until he can almost feel the flames licking up his sleeves.

He scratches down his notes, pretending that he doesn’t notice you similarly keyed in on your book.

What part is she at?

If you had stopped at the Night’s King and his corpse queen… next up was the Rat King. After that was Symeon Star-Eyes. They were both popular stories, ones that people told to their children without ever having touched Watches on the Wall. The book went into slightly more detail, particularly with Symeon. The songs liked to say he was blind and that he had placed sapphires in his eyes to show his devotion to chivalry.

The maester who wrote the book had a starkly different opinion. Symeon Star-Eyes was, more likely than not according to Maester Lewys, a sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, renowned for both his skill in combat and his abnormally bright blue eyes. Chivalry, the maester postulated, would not be introduced into Westeros until after the coming of the Andals, well after the death of Symeon.

You hadn’t been wrong when you had said that the truth was remarkably less interesting than what the singers liked to peddle out.

Far off in the distance, Aemond hears the belltower ring, indicating the turn of the hour. For the first time in his life, he feels a flash of relief that he has to meet up with his brother and nephews in the yards for sword training. While their words could be cruel, they at least were easier to understand than you were.

“I have to go,” he says, gathering up his books and notes as quickly as he can.

You hum, rising to your feet. “I should also probably go and meet up with Princess Helaena. Our septa can be awfully strict about punctuality.”

“It’s a virtue,” he replies, more out of instinct and a desire to fill the air with something than truly believing his words.

He regrets it immediately when you snort in laughter. “Perhaps you could teach us instead of her. You might be less inclined to rapping me on my knuckles when I slip up on a proverb.”

The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You can come to the library at this same time tomorrow if you want to avoid her. I wouldn’t mind.”

He would mind. He would mind very much if you showed up tomorrow with your easy smile and your bright eyes.

You don’t notice this internal conflict, though. You blink owlishly up at him, as if stunned by the offer. The silence drags on and Aemond feels that all-too-familiar sensation of humiliation and shame creeping up his neck and he opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back, but then you grin broadly at him. It lights you up entirely, brightening even this dark corner of the library.

“Thank you for the offer, my prince,” you quietly reply. “I think I might just take you up on it.”

You bow your head, dropping into a slight curtsey. Your manners are impeccable. Everything about you is designed to endear, to paint the picture of a perfect lady, one gracious and honest and kind.

He knows it's a lie. He knows that you’re hiding something fierce, something mean within you. He wishes he didn’t know that you were. He wishes he didn’t remember that snarl on your face when he had scared you, the way you had seemed ready to claw out his eyes.

He wishes you had never left the Rock.

Aemond doesn’t say any of it, doesn’t poke and prod until he can see that flash of rage that you had shown. He simply nods and prays that you don’t take him up on his offer.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond's pov is so fun to write #you just listen to mitski on repeat until you're so deep in that you start questioning whether or not anyone likes YOU

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silkythewriter · 1 year

Note

Hi there! I wanted to ask, if the request are still open can I request Yandere Macaque x Female reader where Reader, feeling persecuted, decides to escape or hide from him, but he only takes that as a game of hide and seek, being able to see her using his shadows

When I think of a Yan Macaque I always think of him using his shadows to his advantage, this jerk XD

I don't know if it's a good scenario 😅 but I would like to be able to see it in your interpretation if you want of course ☆ thank you! And have a nice day! 💗

❤︎︎Yandere macaque x fem!reader❤︎︎

꧁𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬꧂

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲: silkythewriter, formally known as weirdowithahat

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Jossy Rodriguez and Fasha <3 on Pinterest!, art is produced by Flying Bark Productions

𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: sublieu

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Simon Lucas

𝐖𝐚��𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: yanderes, Obsession, stalking, toxic relationship, OOC macaque, ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POLL JUST A WARNING!! I will still be waiting for results and I will still be writing a character! This is just a cool requesting just couldn’t wait >_<!!!

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝:

Scenario and Head-canons began now

His laughs filled the forest like venomous gas, each step he took made your heart pound like as if it was going to jump out of your chest. Your vision was shaky as your mind was Ingolf by fog of thoughts and scenarios that only made your body Trimble more. You knew this was just a game to him, a fun cat and mouse chase, but you still had little determination in you to keep hiding, to escape. Your chances were low and you knew the consequences of getting caught by the six eared macaque. “Y/n, you know you can’t hide” he sung as he walked with pride, making his tail swing excitedly behind him “I love these little games you play, truly, but cmon you really think you can get away from this?,from me?” He laughed as he taunted you. You only coward behind the large bolder surrounded by trees, praying to whatever god/gods out there to lend a hand in your desperate situation yet no use as your prayers fell on death ears as nothing came to your rescue.

CRUNCH

The leaves and sticks crunched under macaque as he finally appeared to your side, you eyes widen as your breath hitched cursing every living being you could. You stood still like a deer in head lights staring at his smug face his lips parted as he let a out a low warning, “run” at his word you quickly crawled away before scrambling up to your feet and running away, laughs echoed out and bounced off trees, you could hear him giving chase behind you but you dared not look back in fear of the horrific sight. Your legs felt weak, begging for you to stop but the adrenaline kept you pushing forward not daring to stop for miles but at some point you would have to. God the pain coursing through your body was worse then ever, you only stopped when you noticed the absent of his running you let out a small shaky sigh of relief. As your hands went to your knees, now being supported by it as you let your burning lungs greedily inhale the air around you. You looked like a mess with snot and tears running down your face as your lips were dry.

“Y/n” he’s voice sung once again your body tensing at his voice. You looked around you trying to spot him yet you couldn’t, and the moon was already taking the suns place making your situation worse. “Please..no” you mumbled tiredly and scared you could hear his laugh in the distance yet. Your body was to weak to move his voice grow closer as your body tried using any energy left to start moving yet it was to late.

“Boo” he said his voice right next to your ear leaving it tingling because of his breath hitting it . You let out a scream as you scrambled away only to get surrounded by his shadow clones “nuh uh” he laughed as his clone mimicked him they all moved closer slowly in an antagonizing manner. You looked helpless, and overly defeated. “What’s wrong my small crow, to tired to run?” He cooed as he finally appeared from one of his portals, standing right above your already calloused body “looks like someone exhausted themselves” he humored as he crouched down to your eye level “it’s been fun,really,but it’s time to go” he said grabbing you chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he faced your head to make eye contact with him. He planted a small kiss on your forehead before scooping you up in his arms “I love playing these games with you, but when will you learn, you’ll never be able to escape. A shadows something you can’t get rid of my crow” he said laughing before taking you with him through the portal, you looked tiredly behind him only to see his clones laughing along and waving bye to you, you truly were just a scared mouse to him weren’t you?

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

Head canons cause I love this fandom so much! \(^ヮ^)/

As you can see him calling you “crow” has appeared very often in the short scenario, so I’ll explain that first!. It’s a nickname he gave you while stalking you at the beginning of his obsession with you, he saw a small crow land near you on a bench while you gave it a small peace of seed you were munching on. He found the little action adorable so of course this lead him to the little pet name. Some other common nick names are for example: little shadow, my moon, and other things like such

He’s prideful and full of himself some times sure, but he’s also quite and emotional detached sometimes. It really depends, one minute he’s cooing at you while running his fingers through your skin/fur and the next he’s despaired for multiple weeks or even months. Don’t expect him to even acknowledge it and it would be in your best interest not to bring it up

Don’t even mention sun wokung, this man won’t even let you think of him let alone met him. And in the off chance that you do oh boy, Mk and his friends are gonna have their hands full

He’s like a cat if anything, nagging you for attention but after awhile just becoming distant not wanting to be near anyone nor be touched before going back to you and your arms

For as smooth as he can be sometimes he’s also a bit awkward.

While he does disappear sometimes don’t expect to be left alone, oh no,no,no you are wrongly mistaken he’ll be watching your every move from afar and that Erie feeling of being watched you feel? Yea better get use to it cause it’s not going away anytime soon I can promise you that

He’s overprotective from afar, he won’t ever out right say he is but when you notice friends, family, hell even coworkers if you have job disappear I think you can connect the dots. He basically forces you into isolation in fear of not wanting to hurt the innocent

He’s a manipulator , he can easily do it to you if he wants to guilt you into staying or some other reason really

Out of all the yanderes in the LMK he’s the slowest in realizing or acknowledging his obsession and need for you, he tries hiding it in the deepest parts of him but in the end he lets it consume him. No point in fighting for a losing battle

AHHHHH I LOVE WRITING FOR THE LEGO MONKEY KID FANDOM SM <33333 I HOPE YOU ENJOYED TRUELY TYSM FOR THE CHANCE TO WRITE THIS EEEEEE

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jeonqkooks · 2 years

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (01)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, college au (in flashbacks), fluff, angst, eventual smut, kissing, swearing

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.4k

note: OKAY SHE IS FINALLY HERE. i am so nervous about this oh god i will hide in my bedroom and never come out again. anyway umm obviously all the technical stuff about music producing and album making comes from google so! blame google if i get things wrong about music making lol

playlist | series masterpost

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

The movies lied—college really isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Who even has the time to constantly go drinking and clubbing, deliver assignments on time, maintain a social life, all the while be expected to have a blooming love life? Definitely not you, and not when there’s a pain in your ass by the name of Jeon Jungkook.

The douchebag in your music theory class who’s always trying to one up you.

To be fair, he’s not a bad person (probably), but he’s just so goddamn annoying.

It’s only your first semester, but you’ve already found a sworn enemy in Jungkook. The funny thing is, you and him share the same circle, and your friends all adore him to bits.

Curse Kim Taehyung for bringing you into this mess.

(You got a job at the campus library nearly halfway into the semester, and that’s where you met Taehyung, a fellow part-time librarian and full-time stressed out college student. Though your majors and interests don’t exactly align—he’s studying Art History while you’re pursuing a Music degree—you somehow hit it off and he became your first real friend at college.

Taehyung introduced you to Jimin, his roommate, who then brought in someone that you recognized from class named Hoseok but had never really talked to before and… tragically for you, the bane of your existence, Jeon Jungkook.)

At every party and get-together that Taehyung drags you to, Jungkook is there. There was a part of you that hoped he was only an asshole to you because you two had been competing for first place in class, and it wouldn’t have mattered that much if the person with the highest GPA wasn’t given the opportunity to intern at an up-and-coming record label where one of the executives was old friends with your professor.

Neither of you got it in the end; the professor said you and Jungkook had too much “unhealthy” competition going on and decided to bestow the honor upon the third highest ranked in class which was Hoseok. (Okay, that was good for him, but still.)

Anyway, even outside of academia, Jungkook is insufferable only toward you while he’s a ray of sunshine to literally everybody else. You’ve seen him interact with other people, and you’ve witnessed how his attitude completely switches up when it comes to you. No, whenever he talks to you, sweet and bubbly Jungkook immediately morphs into a cocky and patronizing version of the man.

He probably thinks he’s so much better than you just because he happens to have a great singing voice (not that you would ever admit this to him) and you can’t belch out a single note to save your life. But newsflash buddy! Not every music major has to end up a singer.

Taehyung, Jimin, and even Hoseok have assured you that Jungkook doesn’t hate you, but who are they to say? They’ve never received the same treatment as you.

“On Earth, We’re Briefly Gorgeous?” You skim the cover and quirk an eyebrow. “Huh. I didn’t know you’re into stuff like this, Jeon.”

He isn’t. Though he was surprised that the school library even had a shelf for contemporary autobiographies, the only reason he borrowed it was because Taehyung mentioned in passing that it’s one of your favorite books.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he mumbles under his breath, which you don’t catch.

When Jungkook lingers, you look at him in confusion. “I already know who you are. You don’t have to give me your student ID. You can go.”

“You should, uh, check if I damaged the book or something.”

“Did you?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“No, no… I mean– Just do it, will you?”

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you reach for the book but his hand shoots out to stop you. “Not right now,” he stammers. “Later.”

What the hell are you doing? You want to bark at him, but it’s nearly 9 o’clock and this tiresome day has drained the life out of you.

After you finished your last exam this morning, all you wanted was to go back to your room and get some much needed rest. But alas, the universe had different plans. Taehyung begged you to cover his shift at the library because the dumbass messed up the dates and bought his bus ticket home today instead of tomorrow to visit his family. You’d do anything for your friends so naturally you said yes, at the expense of your physically deteriorating form.

Right now, you just want to teleport to your dorm and sleep till the sun swallows up the Earth. “Fine,” you grumble, not having the energy to deal with whatever Jungkook’s schtick is, “anything else?”

He purses his lips, glances between you and the book, then shakes his head. He taps his fingers lightly against the wooden desk between you, like he wants to say something else but doesn’t know how to verbalize the words. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you’d even make fun of him for getting his panties in such a twist.

“Okay, um,” he says finally and turns to leave, “goodnight then.”

You only hum and wave a disinterested hand at his retreating form, not caring that he can’t see you. Leaning back against the chair that offers you zero lumbar support and has been killing your back for the past few hours, you groan loudly.

The library barely had anyone coming in today, probably because finals were over and everyone was either recovering from nights lost to exam preparation, or out drinking to celebrate the end of the semester. You highly doubt there would be anyone dropping by ten minutes before closing time, so you push yourself to your feet and start to gather your things.

After entering Jungkook’s name into the computer and ticking his borrowed book as ‘returned’, you flip through it boredly per his request.

A piece of yellow paper slips from the pages and falls to the floor. When you go to pick it up, you freeze at the sight of a neatly scripted line in black ink. Surprise (or perhaps shock would be a better word) parts the fog in your brain.

Dinner this Saturday? – JK

The next afternoon, Jungkook comes back to the library with no book to return nor a need to borrow a new one.

“Hey,” he gives you an awkward wave as he approaches, “how’s it going?”

You give him a small smile in greeting that you know must look weird and manufactured. Never in your few months of knowing him have you ever smiled at him on purpose. “Fine, thanks.”

“Did you, um, check the book?”

You stiffen, and this makes him stiffen. Jungkook knows you saw it.

Do you say yes? No? What’s the best course of action here? What did he even mean? Why would he ask you out for dinner? What does he want? Why was he acting so self-conscious about it? God, why isn’t Taehyung here to help you through this crisis?

Your lips tighten into a thin line as you contemplate your plan. Jungkook has never seemed shy around you. Maybe he’s just trying to be nice because all your friends are home to see their families, and you and him are the only ones who aren’t. Maybe he just pities you because he thinks you might be lonely.

“Yes,” you decide.

“And?” he prompts, growing more nervous by the second. What is up with this guy?

“Do you need to talk about something over dinner?”

“No, not really,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just want to hang out with you, one on one. Get to know each other better, y’know…”

“Just the two of us?” you narrow your eyes at him skeptically. “Are you… asking me on a date?” That can’t be possible, right? But then, he was acting weird when he was returning the book. And he’s here again now, anxiously glancing between you and the door like he’s ready to bolt any second.

You can’t figure out what it means.

Is he messing with you? Is it all part of his plan to trick you into dressing up for him only to stand you up and humiliate you? He’s annoying, but you’ve never thought of him as someone who would do such a thing.

No… Jungkook might be the most irritating prick on the planet but he’s not that douchey.

“Yes?” he doesn’t sound so sure of it. He looks like he’s summoning the ground to swallow him whole under your scrutinizing gaze. “I mean,” he adds in a small voice, “if you want...”

It isn’t that you don’t find Jungkook attractive. God knows that man is blessed with looks that people dream about, but you suppose the hostility between you two has distracted you from that fact. Irritation eclipses attraction.

But that irritation is nowhere to be found now, not even an inkling. There’s mostly perplexity, and that certainly isn’t enough to trick you into thinking that Jungkook isn’t one of the most handsome men you’ve laid eyes on.

You can’t think properly in this stupefied state. The words slip out before you can make sense of the whole situation. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

Jungkook looks just as surprised as you are once you realize what you just said. Your eyes widen and your lips part. You should definitely take it back, this is absurd! Where’s your goddamn voice when you need it?

“Yeah? It’s a date?” he asks, gazing down at you with those stupid doe eyes that you haven’t fully taken in until now. They compel you to nod.

“Yeah… it’s a date.”

What is happening?

A few seconds pass, and part of you thinks he’ll start laughing in the middle of the library but you’d be the one embarrassed.

Instead, Jungkook gives you a big bunny grin that has you startled. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it before, having gotten used to his arrogant smirk and condescending tone the entire semester. But this is clearly something you didn’t expect. It’s kind of… beautiful, actually.

Before you can react, he’s already headed for the door. He waves enthusiastically, nerves seemingly gone now, and calls out in a loud voice that you would usually frown at and shush people for. “I’ll text you!”

What if it ends up a huge disaster? Well, then you suppose you’d go back to hating each other and forget the whole thing happened. But there’s a possibility even worse that you can’t even begin to fathom right now. If it goes well, would there be another date?

What should you wear? What’s a good outfit that doesn’t make it seem like you’re trying too hard? It’s January though, should you sacrifice warmth for fashion? Where’s that pair of lace underwear that you bought last month–

Wait, why do you care?

God, why is this happening?

You were definitely overthinking this. These were the questions plaguing your every waking moment since that day at the library until this afternoon, a couple hours before your… date. Your brain went haywire the moment he left the library and evidently, it didn’t get a chance to calm down.

(When you called to tell Taehyung about it after the realization that you would actually be going on a date with Jungkook hit you like a truckload of bricks, your friend gasped and mumbled to himself something you couldn’t quite catch over the phone, something about owing money to someone.)

In the end, you settled on a fitted sweater and your favorite winter coat. Mostly because Jungkook showed up right on time and you spent too long fussing over the possibilities to think of anything else to wear.

It was awkward at first with neither of you knowing how to act. What’s a girl gotta do on a date with her arch nemesis? No one writes guides on these kinds of things, not even Buzzfeed. You actually considered shaking his hand when you saw him, but he pulled you into a loose hug before you could do anything else.

Throughout the evening, he felt like a stranger. It wasn’t the Jungkook that you’d been used to, the one who constantly volunteered to make your life a living hell.

No, tonight you were with a different Jungkook. You laughed with each other, smiled at each other, let your hand intentionally brush the other’s but never gathered enough courage to actually lace them together. There was still banter, but not the kind that you hated.

There was no trace of the jerk who always irritated you to no end and instead, Jungkook was softer, incredibly sweeter and thoughtful. You felt like you were meeting him for the first time.

It was refreshing, but also… disheartening? These past few months, you could’ve liked him rather than despise him had he shown this side of himself to you. You suppose that’s a question for another occasion; you don’t want to risk turning the mood sour.

Now, as he’s walking you back to your dorm, only one question lingers on your mind.

“Tonight was actually… really nice,” you admit shyly.

He laughs softly then. “Did you expect it to crash and burn?”

“Yes,” your lack of hesitation only spurs on his chortles. He sounds like he could be an Elmo impersonator.

Once the laughter dies down, you’re left staring at each other in front of your building. The mid January cold bites at your exposed skin, making you shiver lightly and your nose redden. Your skin heats up for a reason other than the wind.

“We’re here,” you say, lamely pointing to the front door. “Guess I should head inside…”

You watch Jungkook visibly gulp as he nods, eyes locking onto yours for a brief second before his gaze falls to the ground, then back to your face again.

You haven’t gone out with someone in a while, but you still know what should happen now.

Will he kiss you? Do you want him to kiss you? Wow, you think. You never imagined there would come a day where you would have to ponder about something like this. Taehyung would be hounding you for days if he got to pick your brain right now. Oh One Direction, just how fast the night changes indeed…

Jungkook takes a step closer and your heart involuntarily picks up a couple beats. When he leans down, it has your stomach doing somersaults. But the tingly sensation is soon replaced with disappointment when you feel his lips press against your cheek.

Damn.

“Goodnight,” he smiles when he pulls away.

You’re sure you look flushed, but it isn’t something that can’t be easily blamed on the cold. You return his smile and bid him a safe walk home before turning toward your dorm.

Once there’s some distance between you and Jungkook, you can’t help but ghost your fingers over the spot where his lips were.

Goddamn. God damn him, god damn those stupid lips and god damn those stupid eyes.

This isn’t how you imagined you would spend your semester break. The moment you set foot in your room, you know you’ll begin to analyze every single detail that happened over the last few hours. You had a good time, but didn’t he? Is that why he only pecked your cheek like you were his grandma?

Oh God, not to mention the way your heart dropped when he didn’t kiss you. On the mouth! Jeon Jungkook!

As you riffle through your cluttered purse to fetch your keycard with an even more cluttered mind, a hand lands on your shoulder. Instinctively, you gasp and jerk away.

Naturally, your heels are your downfall in this moment of hasty panic. Your purse drops to the ground as your arms flail in the air. Seconds feel like hours as you await the impending collision between your butt and the asphalt, though it never comes.

The hand that was on your shoulder is clutching your arm tightly to keep you upright. It might leave a bruise tomorrow, but at least it’s the only thing keeping you from falling ass first right now.

“Shit! I’m sorry, that was so stupid,” Jungkook stutters as he helps you steady yourself. “I called your name but you didn’t respond.”

He should be the one embarrassed, but somehow you are. When he picks up your purse and hands it to you, the awkwardness from earlier returns. You’re staring at each other again; whoever is watching the security cameras must be having a blast.

You clear your throat. “Oh, I must’ve been… thinking. Did you, uh, need anything else?”

“No,” he mutters as he fumbles with his fingers. “No, I…”

Okay, this just took a turn for the worse. This is going to be what you fixate on for the rest of the break—how you almost fell on your ass in front of Jeon Jungkook, because of Jeon Jungkook.

He seems to be having a different kind of dilemma than you though. He still has an apologetic look on his face, but he shakes his head a little more harshly than necessary, as if that would erase what just happened from existence. He clasps his hands together firmly, like he’s about to give you a sales pitch.

Fuck it, Jungkook thinks, now or never.

“I chickened out earlier,” he says and loops an arm around your waist, tugging you closer and effectively making you gasp at the suddenness. His other hand brushes your hair from your face and settles on your cheek, the one he kissed only minutes prior. “I wanted to do this.”

He leans down for the second time tonight, and this time you know what’s coming. More importantly, you know you want it to happen. Your faces are so close that you can see the small scar on his cheek; your fingers itch to trace that line of his skin. You hope there’ll be another time for that.

Still, he doesn’t kiss you just yet. He waits a moment to see if you’d pull away and when you don’t, he just smiles. Like he can’t believe this is finally happening.

His pillowy lips meet yours in a tentative greeting. It’s slow at first, you’re both just testing the waters.

A goodbye to your old dynamic now that a line has been crossed and you two can never go back to the way it was. A hello to a new beginning and to the seeds that it’s planting in your chest, right beside your heart.

His body wraps around you as his mouth envelopes your own, everything is just a little surreal that you get lightheaded. It’s kind of… nice, and you tell yourself it’s the heat radiating off his body that’s making you feel this warm.

When you pull apart, you would’ve thought it was a fever dream if it wasn't for the blush that colored his cheeks. His lips are shiny from the kiss, and his eyes are still glued to your mouth.

Okay, so maybe there are two things you’ll never forget about today: How you almost fell on your ass, and how he kissed you.

He laughs breathlessly to himself and pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours while you remain speechless.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since your presentation on tonal systems.”

Eight Years Later

Wednesday. The absolute worst day of the week.

You can’t even remember what made you hate Wednesdays so much, but you always feel a sense of dread whenever the middle of the week rolls around. Maybe it’s because every bad news you’ve received in your life has mostly been delivered on a Wednesday. That’s why you never work, or do anything really, on this day, and given that you don’t have a traditional 9-to-5 job, it gives you more leeway to skip work anyway. It’s your own self-care day, where you allow yourself to stop worrying about anything and just be.

Nothing bad can happen if you don’t let it, right? (It’s definitely not a logical plan, but whatever, let’s just entertain this.)

When the incessant rings of your doorbell echo throughout your apartment at 7:56 on this—surprise, surprise—Wednesday morning, you already know it can’t be anything good.

Your sleep-hazed brain doesn’t allow you much to work with. It’s too early for deliveries, and all of your friends and co-workers know better than to bother you on Hump Day, least of all in the morning at that. So when you throw open your door, ready to tear a new one into this godforsaken person who woke you up from your slumber, never would you ever expect to see a ghost from your past standing in front of you. Not in a million years—because it has been years, hasn’t it?

No, not a ghost—the ghost, one who has been haunting you since the summer of your college graduation.

Him. In the flesh. In a simple black blazer thrown over a t-shirt but still looking every bit like the sun on the day he left you. Jeon Jungkook.

You must still be dreaming, right? There’s no reason for him to show up at your door after all these years of radio silence and oh yeah, especially after he—once the keeper of your heart—crushed it into pieces and even went the extra mile to cut it up like finely-chopped garlic, and left you. Besides, how does he even know where you live now? There is absolutely no reason for him to be here. It must be the bottle of rosé you wholeheartedly chugged last night while rewatching Goblin. That’s right, this is just a figment of your worst imaginatio–

“Long time no see, stranger.”

You almost jump. Oh no, it speaks. Was your wine laced with hallucinogens? Your brows knit together and your lips part in bewilderment.

In this nightmare of yours, he looks good. Jungkook always did manage to look effortlessly handsome even if he had just rolled out of bed. Still the same pillowy pink lips, same sparkling doe eyes boring into yours. His hair is styled differently, in an unfamiliar way that you’ve only been acquainted with through the photos that he gets tagged in online. He’s back to his black hair though, with zero traces of the blond head that he sported last year. You never did get a chance to see what it looked like in real life, but once in college, you and him had laughed about the possibility of him dyeing his hair golden and how it would look so terrible. That didn’t turn out to be the case, obviously.

It’s not until the figure in front of you snaps his fingers that you realize you’ve been gaping for the past few minutes. You reach a hand out to poke him in the shoulder, and you almost gasp when he doesn’t dissipate into thin air.

What the fuck.

Jungkook only chuckles. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

You let yourself gape at him for another minute before you speak. “Why are you here? How do you know where I live?”

“A little birdy told me,” he smiles, but soon gives up when you remain unimpressed. “Fine, it was Tae.”

Taehyung, that fucking traitor. You make a mental note to send him a very strongly worded letter.

You exhale in annoyance. “Get to the point. What do you want?”

“So…” he starts, rubbing his hands together as he looks at you, “I’m assuming you know Jin, right?”

“Jin? Kim Seokjin?” you stare at him like he’s stupid. “Global superstar Jin? Two-time Grammy nominee Jin? Turned-down-an-offer-to-be-in-a-Bond-soundtrack Jin? The guy with the face of a Greek God and the voice of an angel? That Jin?”

He pokes a tongue into his cheek, a very Jungkook thing that you haven’t seen in a very long time. He used to do that when he was annoyed or jealous, and to be fair, they often overlapped. “Yeah, that Jin.”

“Sure,” you shrug, “I’ve heard of him.”

“Well, I’m producing his new album. No, I should be producing his new album, and…”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a pointed look. And? C’mon, out with it.

“He’ll only sign with us if… if we get you on board as the primary songwriter.”

If it were anyone else saying this to you, you probably would’ve jumped up and down in pure excitement and called every single person you know to brag about the international pop sensation wanting to work with you. Snatching an opportunity like this will most likely ensure that you’ll never be unemployed again, not when you’ve had a hand in creating a Kim Seokjin album. It’s the big break you’ve always dreamed of, the one to propel you forward and get your name circulating around the industry. Just imagine the kind of apartment you could get with Kim Seokjin-level royalties.

If it were anyone else asking, you would’ve fainted, woken up again, and said yes in a heartbeat. Instead, it’s your ex boyfriend who’s propositioned you out of the blue because it’s really him who needs to make this work.

In the moment—and to be fair, in the morning too—you’re not level-headed enough to weigh the pros and cons. If he’s the producer, you’d also be working with him and you don’t think you have the capacity to handle being in the same space as Jeon Jungkook, and even for months on end until the album is fleshed out. But it isn’t even just that, there’s a petty voice inside your head screaming at you to forgo whatever success you may garner from this project, just for the sake of fucking him over.

You’ve heard enough chatter about Jin to know that he isn’t someone that can be sweet-talked and bargained with. If he wants something, he has to get it. If not, the man walks.

You succumb to the pettiness. “I’ll have you know, my email is just blowing up with offers. I’m doing quite well for myself.”

Okay, it’s not completely untrue. Your inbox might not be on the verge of combustion from an overload of messages, but you have made a name for yourself. Since your project with Agust D last year, your songwriting has definitely been a sought after commodity, but not anywhere near the circles of Kim Seokjin though.

The smirk on Jungkook’s face drops, and in its place a smile blooms across his lips, an earnest smile. “I know.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity, and how you still think his smile is beautiful enough to part way for the sun on cloudy days. Like Kim Taehyung, your own heart becomes a traitor when it misses a beat.

Jungkook’s acknowledgment of your achievements has you blinking at him to make sure you heard him right. It takes you a moment to regain your composure and straighten up. “Oh… Then you know how it is. I don’t have time to take on another project. Off you go now.”

“C’mon, you won’t even consider it for an old friend?”

Your mouth sets in a grim line as you stare at him, and he knows from the way your jaw clenches that he’s said the wrong thing.

No, he’s not an old friend. And while he knows of your achievements and that you’ve created somewhat of a decent life for yourself, he doesn’t know that your first day of work started with false bravado and nearly ended with a breakdown in a lavender-scented bathroom stall when you remembered that the only person you wanted to talk to about your day wouldn’t be there when you got home.

He doesn’t know you used to get so shitfaced on a weekly basis that Taehyung became genuinely concerned for your health at one point, that he and Jimin had to sit you down for a talk before they thought your liver would give out.

He doesn’t know how much it fucking hurts to be suckerpunched by someone you thought was the love of your life, to be disregarded and abandoned as if years together held the significance of mere days in the end. To be left without a single word as to why you weren’t good enough for him.

So no, Jungkook isn’t an old friend. Sometimes you think maybe it would have been better if that’s all he ever was to you.

“We’re not friends,” you declare eerily calmly that you even surprise yourself. The door closes in his face with a click. The wood under your palm should feel light, but somehow it weighs a thousand pounds now.

Old friend, you mull over the word in your head. Is that all you’ve been reduced to? You’re reminded once again that you hate Jeon Jungkook, and this sensation poking into your heart like a sharp needle is just your accumulated disdain toward him—nothing more.

For a split second you wonder if you should have let yourself feel that January cold instead of his warmth.

You can’t go back to sleep now that your entire morning has been ruined.

[08:38] You: Kim Taehyung.

[08:38] You: is there anything u would like to tell me

[08:39] You: ? 😇

[08:52] Taebear 🐻: ?? it’s not 10 yet why are you up

[08:53] You: answer the question, Kim 😇

[08:53] Taebear 🐻: what are you on about

[08:55] Taebear 🐻: is this because i ate your ice cream the other day?

[08:56] You: what ice cream

[08:58] Taebear 🐻: that white flavor with the chocolate bits

[08:59]: ????

[08:59] You: wtf u ate THE haagen dazs irish whiskey and chocolate waffle ice cream that i’ve been saving ?? fuck that was limited edition

[09:00] You: wait no i can’t even focus on that right now. why the fuck was jeon jungkook at my apartment on this godforsaken wednesday morning??

[09:04] Taebear 🐻: oh

[09:04] Taebear 🐻: damn

[09:09] You: ?????

[09:09] You: that’s all u have to say ???

As irritated as you are at Taehyung, you refrain from calling to yell at him while he’s at work. So when he casually strolls into your apartment at lunch with a takeaway bag of two poké bowls from your favorite diner, you know he’s here to spill the beans. (And also to butter you up; he even splurged on a side of tobiko and a large taro boba for when you’re finished.) The sight of the food dilutes your anger; you gotta hand it to him—Kim Taehyung knows the way to your heart. (Hint: it’s through your stomach.)

The moment he sets his and your food on the dining table, you immediately narrow your eyes at him. “Explain, Kim.”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he begins to mix the content of your bowl for you. “Jungkook asked me where you lived like a month ago, said he needed to ask for a work favor. But then he didn’t do anything after that so I forgot about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when he asked?”

“He told me not to.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, mouth hanging open to gape at him, flabbergasted. “And you listened to him? You’re supposed to be on my side!” Are you childish for wanting Taehyung to be on your side? He has always been closer to you; he was your friend first. “I can’t believe you’d do me dirty like that, Tae. I feel so betrayed right now. I got you in the divorce and Jungkook got Jimin. I can’t believe you’d go running off to daddy like that.”

He scrunches his face in distaste. “Ugh, please don’t call Jungkook my daddy.” He pushes the bowl toward you.

Silence settles over your apartment aside from the sounds of cutlery against ceramic. As you munch on your rice and spicy mayo salmon, Taehyung asks warily. “You good though?”

Jungkook has always been a sensitive subject, clearly. With your shared circle of friends from college and even now with your mutual connections in the industry, you’re surprised that you haven’t run into him at all in the past five years.

You only grumble around a mouthful of food. You take your sweet time with your poké and when you’re finished, you wash it down with a generous sip of the boba Taehyung brought over. Salmon and milk tea are probably not the best combo though.

“Positively dandy.” It’s just my ex who I haven’t seen in half a decade and would’ve liked to never see again for the rest of my miserable life. “Live, laugh, love, Kim.”

He only squints at you. Though your face is devoid of any emotion—you have to praise your own poker face when someone brings up Jungkook, it’s taken you a hell of a long time to master—your bitter tone is a dead giveaway of how much the surprise reunion is affecting you.

You should’ve suspected that Kim Taehyung was up to no good when he suddenly called to treat you to lunch two days later. The man even insisted that you order the most expensive thing on the menu, something that you and him have only reserved for celebrations.

You never thought that one day, food would be your downfall.

A figure slides into the chair next to yours after you gulp down the last of your drink, and it became all too clear what Kim Taehyung had been scheming. You should really be more cautious when people randomly start offering you food; it’s becoming a problem.

You look at the intruder with wide eyes, fingers still gripping the glass. “What are you doing here?”

“Listen.” It’s Taehyung who speaks up, drawing your attention away from Jungkook. “Just hear him out–”

“Kim Taehyung!” You kick him in the shin under the table, to which he yelps and gets a few heads turning in the semi-crowded restaurant. “You backstabbing bitch!”

“God, you’re so dramatic. Just hear him out, okay? I think this could be really good for your career.”

Your jaw clenches, and both men notice the way you slightly scooch away from the one next to you. Damn them and damn you. You’re always more pliant with a satiated stomach; maybe that’s why Jungkook didn’t show up until after you had finished eating.

Waving a hand in the air in defeat, you motion for your ex to do whatever it is that he came here to do. Mostly, you want to waste his time just to say no to him in the end.

Jungkook immediately launches into a whole speech about how this could be Jin’s greatest album yet if they had you on the team. Apparently Jin has been itching to sink his claws into you ever since he found out you worked with Yoongi; you knew the two of them were friends, but you didn’t realize that your work even drew that kind of attention.

As the man explains what the album concept would be, your resolve almost breaks. Fuck, if it doesn’t sound like something right up your alley. You’re already envisioning everything you could do with this album, the lyrics that are practically writing themselves inside your head. Nevertheless, it isn’t that simple. There’s always a but, and that but is sitting right beside you, droning on about how this album might actually be the one to score Jin his first Grammy win. Jungkook didn’t seem fazed when he saw you the other day, and he sure isn’t fazed now. You’re supposed to be someone he used to love, but the way he’s so nonchalant makes you feel like you were never more than just a mere acquaintance.

When he’s finished, you don’t respond. Instead, you turn to your friend. “Seriously, Tae,” you scoff, glaring at the man sitting across from you. This is the second time that Kim Taehyung has betrayed you in a span of two days; one more strike and you might just key his car. “I can’t believe you ran off to daddy again.”

He rolls his eyes at you while Jungkook raises a brow in amusement and leans back against his chair. “I told you not to say that,” he grumbles. “But honestly, I’m saying this as your best friend–”

“My best friend wouldn’t use my greatest weakness to trick me.”

“Oh my God, just—listen, do you not see what an insane opportunity this is? It’s Kim Seokjoon, for crying out loud. Even I know who that is and you tell me all the time that I have zero knowledge of pop culture.”

“Kim Seokjin,” Jungkook pipes in before you can.

“Oh, shit,” Taehyung scratches his head awkwardly, “right, well, my point still stands. You’ve always wanted something like this to happen, so why are you doing this to yourself now? Just because it’s Ju–”

“Tae.” Your gaze hardens as you look at him, and Jungkook sees how you and the older man communicate without having to utter a single word. He never understood the connection, the bond, between the two of you but he has always appreciated the fact that you have someone like Taehyung. Someone who understands you in ways that he couldn’t, who looks out for you and takes care of you no matter what, who made sure you wouldn’t fall when Jungkook was the one to shatter the ground beneath you.

After a minute, Taehyung softens. “I’m just saying,” he nudges your foot under the table to ease the tension, “when are you gonna get a chance like this again? Some things aren’t worth sacrificing your dreams for.”

He’s right, and you know you’re being childish. When are you going to get an offer of this magnitude? This is your dream; this is something you’ve been working toward all these years. Are you really about to let it pass you by because of Jungkook?

You turn away from both of them and close your eyes, sighing as you expel the weight in your chest. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, “my life is a dumpster fire waiting to blow up. Fucking hell.”

“Language, sailor,” Jungkook scolds you lightly. “How can someone with such a foul mouth write lyrics that beautiful? You never used to swear this much.”

You choose to fire back at him rather than focus on the fact that he listens to your songs. “The keyword here is “used to”. You don’t know me anymore.”

He stares at you, and once again he knows he’s dug his own grave, earning even more points in your bad books. He only meant to be playful, but now he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Thankfully, Taehyung chimes in. “It can’t hurt to think about it right? It’s a good opportunity.”

Your brows knit together and you fist the hem of your shirt. You look a little distressed, and Jungkook remembers how you used to do this to will yourself before you committed to something you really don’t want to. It used to be research papers for psychology classes, but now it’s him.

“Fine, I will think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Jungkook says, his voice a little smaller now. He hands you the folder that he’s been holding, and you gulp when his hand brushes yours, just barely. “Here’s the creative brief. Let me know what you think, alright? My business card is in there.”

As Taehyung watches the two of you, he isn’t entirely convinced if this is such a good idea anymore. Career-wise, you’d be out of your mind not to snatch this offer right off the bat; but emotionally speaking, there’s still something that he can’t properly decipher between you and Jungkook.

He sees the way the younger man glances at you, and the way you wouldn’t look at him. Taehyung has noticed how your tone has grown subconsciously more defensive and overly nonchalant the past couple of days, as if you’re trying to convince yourself and everybody else that you’re doing fine. For years, you’ve been claiming that you despise Jungkook and that the resentment you have toward him will never change, but no one has really been able to confirm that hypothesis. You haven’t been in the same room since college, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to say you’re over someone when you aren’t standing in front of them and looking into their eyes.

Nonetheless, it’s his duty as your friend to make sure you choose what’s best for you, and this—no matter how ludicrous it sounds to you—will do you more good than harm. Whatever may happen, he knows you’ll never forgive yourself if you miss this chance. And just like how Taehyung has helped you through your toughest days before, he can do it again. You’ve recovered from Jungkook once, you can do it a second time.

…Right?

Naturally, you had to go and get sloshed that night. Alone, because Taehyung had a work function that he couldn’t skip and though he promised to take you out to drown your sorrows the next day instead, you just couldn’t wait to forget about Jungkook.

On his birthday the year of your breakup, you had called him to wish him a happy birthday even though he never made an effort to reach out to you at all after you went your separate ways; or rather, he went his own way and you were left there all alone. The line rang, and rang, and finally when the call connected, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs at the sound of a woman’s voice filtering through the speaker, airy and giggly.

“Is this… Jungkook’s phone?” you tried to keep your voice from breaking.

“Jungkook?” the woman sounded confused. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.”

You promptly ended the call afterward, not knowing whether to feel relieved that no, he didn’t get a new girlfriend, or dejected because he changed his number and didn’t tell you.

Well, of course, why would he? You broke up and Jungkook made it blatantly obvious that he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. It hurt you to admit it—something that had once been so unimaginable now taking over every aspect of your life—that you had become strangers who once meant the world to each other.

Shit happens. People wake up and fall out of love everyday. People change, then they leave. Life goes on.

It didn’t mean much, but you deleted the number that night.

Now, as you’re staring at this new set of digits you took from the business card Jungkook had given you, anxiety bubbles in your stomach. The fact that you’re actually considering it, means you’ll say yes. It is an incredible opportunity, Taehyung didn’t need to do all of that for you to see it. But partly because it’s Jungkook who’s asking, and you’re weak despite how many times you’ve claimed to hate his guts. Despite wanting to say no with your entire being, he affects you in ways that you never thought were still possible. Though you haven’t agreed to his proposition, your mind is already picturing what will happen when history inevitably repeats itself.

You’ll say yes, he’ll take what he needs from you, and he will leave. You will go back to being strangers again. The numbers staring at you in blue light will be another set for you to delete.

That’s why Jimin is here now, at the wine bar where he’s found himself with Taehyung so many times before just to pick you up and drag your drunken self home.

But Taehyung isn’t here tonight because of the aforementioned work event so Jimin brought backup—it just happens that it’s the same person you're trying your hardest to forget about.

(They were lounging on Jungkook’s couch playing video games when the call came and interrupted Jimin. When Taehyung’s voice rang through the speakers to inform him of your situation and how Jimin would have to handle it alone this time, Jungkook’s curiosity was instantly piqued.

“I’ll take you,” he said to the older man. “You didn’t drive here anyway.”

“Oh, you’re with Kook?” Taehyung asked hesitantly, then went quiet for a moment after Jimin confirmed. “Yeah, sure, you should take him with you. She probably won’t remember it…”)

“Jiminie,” you whine loudly once your friend helps you into the car, “Jiminieee.”

“Yes, what? I’m right here.”

“I saw Jungkook again. Twice.”

“Oh?” He looks at the younger man, unsure of how to proceed. “How did it go?”

Jungkook watches your face in the rearview mirror. Your hooded eyes are looking out the window, blinking lazily every few seconds before closing completely shut. He thinks you might have fallen asleep until you speak up a few minutes later.

“He didn’t ask how I’ve been doing. He just showed up out of the blue because he needed something from me and didn’t even bother to ask if my life’s been okay or anything. I–It made me feel so insignificant.”

For a moment, the already stuffy air in the car thickens. You sound like you’re sober, like you’re saying all of this under the guise of inebriation to see how he would react. But before either man can respond, you’re lolling your head to the side and mumbling incoherently again. Jungkook swallows, and Jimin remains quiet for the rest of the drive. The only sounds are your occasional hiccups and giggles.

When the car pulls up to your apartment complex, Jimin is too preoccupied with hauling you out of the vehicle to notice Jungkook’s hesitation to help him lug you into the building, but he does anyway. He hasn’t touched you in years, and you won’t even remember it in the morning.

It’s been so long, but when his arm wraps securely around your waist, it seems like no time has passed at all. His hand on your body still feels familiar and not as foreign as he would expect. Since you’re mostly leaning against Jungkook, it stirs a strange sensation in his gut when your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck.

The elevator ride only lasts a few minutes, but he can’t focus with the way your warm breath is fanning his skin. When he crashed your lunch date with Taehyung 12 hours earlier, he didn’t expect the day would end like this—with you in his arms again, though the circumstances could’ve been better.

Once you make it to your door, you immediately perk up. “Oh?” You turn to Jungkook, as if you’ve only just noticed him for the first time tonight. “Chimmy, who’s your friend here?”

Jimin doesn’t reply, too busy ruffling through the chaos in your bag to find your keys and letting Jungkook hold you up by himself. (He never understands why women carry so many useless things around. The only things a person should need to bring with them outside are keys, phone and wallet. Maybe a pack of gum and condoms. Why do you even have a flask of vodka when you were already headed to a bar?)

When he takes too long, you turn to him and whisper. “Bitch, your friend is so cute!” (Only you think you’re whispering.) Jungkook chuckles as he tightens his grip on you. He can’t help but think you’re adorable—you’ve always been a cute drunk in his eyes, though if you would probably smack yourself over the head if you were aware of the words coming out of your mouth. It’s nice to hear that you still find some part of him tolerable.

Jimin lets out a triumphant sigh when he finally pulls your keys from the bag. The way he navigates your apartment in the dark and makes a beeline for what Jungkook assumes is your bedroom makes him wonder how many times the older man has done this whenever you’ve had one too many. Jungkook purposefully, albeit awkwardly, stands in the middle of your living room, glancing at your open door at Jimin who’s setting you on the bed and struggling to take off your jacket because you keep flailing your arms trying to hug him. Jungkook could help, but he feels like being in your home is already pushing his luck, let alone your bedroom, even if you aren’t quite conscious of his presence.

He takes the liberty of looking around, smiling to himself when he sees traces of you in every corner. Picture frames are scattered across your apartment—of you and your friends, your family, even Taehyung’s dog Yeontan because you love the little fluff ball so much. Dainty trinkets from your travels and art prints that you always said were pretentious but you secretly liked them anyway.

No photos of you and him, but that makes sense of course.

Jimin emerges from your bedroom after a while, leaving the door ajar to see if you’re sleeping soundly before they leave. This is the first time in years that he has seen you and Jungkook in such close vicinity of each other. Sure, you’re drunk out of your mind, but still.

“She didn’t mean what she said earlier,” he says as he hands Jungkook a glass of water.

“She did. It’s fine, it’s not like she said anything wrong,” he takes a sip to wash away the slight sting creeping up his spine. “Of course I wanna know how she’s been, hyung. I just didn’t think I had the right to ask. I didn’t know it made her feel that way.”

Jimin sighs, unsure of what to say. Wounds that he thought had scabbed over are starting to bleed again, but this time it seems like it’s affecting the both of you. You were once each other’s safe haven, but now the waters are murky, and no one has a single clue on how to chart them.

A couple of sentences, but this might be the most that Jungkook has talked about you in years. You’re in the same circle of friends, your name was bound to come up in conversation. Whenever it happened, he would simply not contribute anything to the topic, or excuse himself to go to the bathroom until chatter about you has stopped.

He has always refused to disclose anything about the breakup when anyone asked. No one knows what really happened back then; not his brother, not his closest friends, and certainly not you.

— taglist: @bids97 @ggukkieland @bloopkook @canarystwin @princehyun-jin @scoupsnotscoops @eridanuswave @mwitsmejk @thebluegoddess @pb89nv @ppeachyttae @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @xxxxxuixxxxx @bananamochidaisy @jungkook-er @acciofirewhiskey @bbtsficrecs @luv--you @jeonkoookiee @sweetonkookieandtae @mrcleanheichou @betysotelo18 @neverthefirstchoice @lllucere @parkethereal @tsundoku-world @investedreader @armys-dna

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dearbraus · 11 months

Text

☆ ͡ ݂ Woes

— Kazuha Kaedehara

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn reader, sfw, pre-established relationship, selfship coded, insecurities, reassurance, unedited.

⊹ Run time. 0.7k

Amidst the fleeting daylight a gentle breeze carried the light honeyed scent of cecilia’s to the top of Starsnatch Cliff. It ruffled the loose strands of your hair and nipped at your skin through the thin cotton of your shirt. In the early months of spring when the sun lingered in the evening sky just a bit longer, so did the crisp chill that kept the earth firm beneath your feet as you and Kazuha ascended the bluff. Though, as the moon crept closer and the evening deepened past the warm golden cast, you silently cursed Barbatos for letting his winds shoot straight through you.

At least, Kazuha was warm.

Like his ruby red eyes held embers between them rather than simply a set of inquisitive irises, vying for where his next adventure would take him. His smile too; it was warm and as radiant as the sun. You’d bear the weight of a thousand winters if it meant to once more be cradled by the eternal hearth that was Kazuha Kaedehara.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kazuha muses, a small smile tugging his lips upwards, “You seem to be lost in them.”

His nimble fingers brush against your cheek. The pads are calloused and rough to the touch but when he smooths the palm of his hand along the expanse of your face, it's feather light. He tilts your face down so your eyes meet his. Kazuha’s eyes are riddled with sleep, his lids have sagged and they’re plagued with dark circles beneath them. Still, he trains them on your face.

Brushing a few stray strands away from his forehead you sigh, “You’d find nothing but thoughts of you, my love.”

“And when you’re scribbling in that notebook of yours, do I cross your mind then?”

Cupping your hand over top of his, you lean into his touch.

“You’re nosy,” you whisper, and he just laughs, “Would you like it if I asked you how many poems of yours I’ve inspired.”

Kazuha looks surprisingly smug from his perch on your lap, like you’ve somehow fallen right where he wanted you to, “It would be simpler if I told you which poems I’ve penned that were not about you.”

“That would still be a great many poems would that not?” You ask, your mouth threatening to dip into a frown, “Words seem to flow from you effortlessly, you always know what you want to say and exactly how you wish to say it.”

His lips curl into a small frown, brows knitting together, “Is something the matter?” Kazuha asks, “Something you’d like to share with me?”

“Sorry.”

You whisper it before even thinking. You’d spoken before thinking too, that icky green feeling spilling out and pouring onto him.

“Why are you sorry?”

His thumb smooths against your cheek and forces your head to remain tilted towards him.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I just … I don’t know.”

It wasn’t his fault, not really. The raging, fiery eyed monster that reared its head whenever you felt inadequate was no fault but your own. It felt too silly to verbalize, nonsensical to even attempt to share, and an unfair burden to rest upon his shoulders.

Sucking in deep breath, you muster up a smile for him, “It’s silly but sometimes my best doesn’t feel like enough,” you say, leaning into his hand, “And I wonder why I should even try when there’s always someone more talented out there, who writes with such speed it makes my head spin.”

“A person's art isn’t quantified by how quickly they can produce it or how much they make,” Kazuha says, sincerity lacing his words, “Art isn’t quantified by anything other than the artist's intent.”

“Kazuha…”

“You aren’t defined by your art,” he’s firm, Kazuha is never firm, he’s too much of a free spirit to allow himself be set in stone, “You aren’t defined by anything other than what’s in your heart.”

Leaning upwards, Kazuha presses his forehead against yours. His hair tickles your cheeks and his hot breath warms your chilled skin.

“To me you are perfect, and I love you more than words can express. And if you forget that, I’ll be more than happy to pen a few poems to remind you.”

#kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gi x reader #kazuha comfort

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lilith-little-world · 1 year

Note

Could you please write some domestic headcanons for reader and wukong? Love your story btw^^ (or more like the concept lol)

Awww thank you, I wanted to do a slight twist to the isekai trope that explains how the reader got transported to another world. Although, the reader is far from the only one. She just happens to survive the transmigration... Kind of. I'm honestly kind of excited to start writing the first chapter soon. It's going to be one hell of a ride.

Now to those domestic headcanons, hope there are no spelling errors, I manage to break my Grammarly keyboard every single time I write something-

(Don't you dare judge the quality I was rushing through so badly then I realized I forgot how to fucking draw. I'm going to post some art here, it's going to be meh quality just until I get used to drawing again.)

- At first, it took a good while for you guys to settle down in one place. With you enjoying the urban lifestyle. Since it made visiting shops, friends, and just having a fun day out way easier. Wukong prefers to be isolated, his only interactions being mostly with Mk and you. However, after Wukong complains for the 100th time, you move to Flower Fruit Mountain under the condition he takes you out every few days into the city and that your friends can come and visit every once in a while.

- Surprisingly, he tries to renovate and spruce things up. House feeling a little small? Want a room for your things specifically? He and his clones will start making preparations (Also maybe ask Mk and the gang for help on what exactly to do and if he's desperate enough, he'll ask DBK for some advice.) Slowly but surely, the once small hut becomes more home-like. Then when you're both satisfied, he'll move on making the pathway to the house to the entrance of the waterfall. Cleaning up any debris or rumble of pillars and crumbling murals of the past. It was by your constant nagging that he restores it, getting rid of vines and moss.

- Other than wandering around or chilling at the house you literally have nothing to do. As much as it was a nice thought of spending most of the day doing your hobby, you physically don't have enough willpower to do it every day. One day while laying around, you noticed how dusty and unorganized the house truly was. So that is how you got stuck with cleaning and keeping things organized. Yet that didn't stop there, you noticed small things like a creaky loose floorboard. That you managed to fix after searching for how to on your phone. The sink isn't draining properly, drain cleaner is already on the need-to-buy list. The problem still not solve, time to put in some elbow grease and hope you won't get too dirty.

- However, you're definitely not touching his little hoard that he has been collecting over the centuries. The last thing you want is to release some ancient curse or break something that was once important.

- He can't cook, don't even try to make him, you don't want another fire, so get that cookbook open and pray you made something edible. Over the months you had gotten better, but there's much to improve. Yet, complete failure or not, Wukong still tries it out since he is immortal, it won't kill him, and the last thing he wants is for you to get seriously sick from food poisoning. If the food was not edible, then he's either going to get takeout or you both are going out to eat, give him a few minutes to throw up the abomination you created out his stomach.

- It's only fair that he washes the dishes. You make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it's the least he can do. (That's if he still suffers from food poisoning, it's your turn to wash the dishes.) He picks up around the kitchen, any produce you left out back in the fridge. Spices in the cupboard in their usual spots. He knows you do a lot around the house, so it's now his turn to help.

- There's one chore you both do together, it's washing and putting the clothes away. You separate the clothing in their respective pile, while Wukong loads the washer. Whoever hears the washer finishes, loads the dryer, (cough you cough). Then when the loads are done, you guys come together and fold the clothes. While watching tv to pass the time. Although Wukong likes to make a big scene whenever he grabs your underwear or bra, it was only natural that you do the same with his boxers. You guys now know each other's undergarments and clothes sizes after that. Well, it makes shopping easier.

- Wukong kept his word and takes you to the city, and if you want a vacation away from the mountain. He got a temple ready to stay at and landmarks to show you. Over the years, he saw many things and wants to show you all of them. He never liked big crowds, so going to festivals was never his thing until he finds out you enjoy it. Well, looks like he's hanging out with the gang in the city, yaaay... Just make sure you're beside him for a good portion of the time there.

- He was a little hesitant about inviting the gang to the house, but he couldn't say no to both the student that he considers like his own son, Mk and his darling lover, the love of his life, you. In all honestly, Mk and you had already planned a day to bring the group over, and you guys decided to tell him last minute. Even though he would like a heads up, so he can reject the idea, strangely the simian doesn't mind. He had nearly forgotten that the mountain could feel so... warm and lively.

- Just be warned now that he has you beside him 24/7, this touch-starved monkey will be cuddling and kissing you, the first chance he gets. Don't fall for his tricks, he's a sneaky one.

- You made a small habit to groom his fur. Running your fingers through, him relaxing within your hold. If there's a comb or brush, you will get out any tangles or knots. His fur is now soft and fluffy and he is ready for pets and cuddles. You like to spoil him once in while.

- You guys hardly argue or fight, there was a time you even feared that the honeymoon phase will be over and then reality will hit. Yet it hasn't, maybe because Wukong is actually trying to be a better person so he can stay by your side. Also, he saw you angry once and he will do anything not to get on your bad side... again. Wukong tries to get your thoughts first and asks for people's advice, though he still has trouble speaking his ideas or thoughts. Being alone for centuries will do a lot of damage to a person’s psyche.

- So things are pretty peaceful, Wukong is opening up more and you managed to have a happy life despite the odds being against you. Now it's time to answer the question, will you become immortal and join Wukong for eternity, or prolonged/have your regular human lifespan? Sadly, Wukong wouldn't be able to handle your death. It will take all of his last remaining time to ever move on...

Wait a minute-

#lmk reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #lmk oneshot #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lmk #lmk y/n #domestic headcanons #lmk headcanon #x reader headcanons #lmk sun wukong x reader #monkey king x reader

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pluckyredhead · 1 year

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Character Profile: Eddie Bloomberg (Kid Devil/Red Devil)

Some of you could probably see this one coming. I have an Eddie fic ready to share with you very soon, but for those of you who have no idea who I’m talking about, I figured I should fill you in. So here he is! The sweetest little devil in the DCU!

Eddie Bloomberg debuted in the 1984 Blue Devil series. Blue Devil is Dan Cassidy, a Hollywood stuntman/special effects artist who was cursed by a demon and trapped in a devil costume forever. If he had been a Marvel character, he would be hated and feared etc, but since he lives in the DCU, it literally has no effect on his movie career. I love the DCU.

The producer of the movie Dan is making when he’s cursed is Marla Bloom (real name: Marlene Bloomberg), a somewhat manic but fiercely loyal visionary. Her nephew, Eddie, is a gofer on set and in fact is only known as “Gopher” for quite a few issues of Blue Devil before anyone uses his actual name. Eddie is teeny tiny in this series - logically he’s probably no younger than 12, since he’s allowed to actually have a job on set, but the writing and art, especially his little OshKosh B’gosh green overalls, make him seem younger, more in the 8-10 range.

(Note: It is never explicitly stated that Eddie and Marla are Jewish, but their last name, and Marla changing her name upon arriving in Hollywood, are such obvious clues that I wouldn’t even consider it coding or subtext. It might be missed by people who aren’t familiar with Jewish names or the long history of Jewish people changing said names to make it in Hollywood - which, trust me, is as antisemitic as anywhere else - but they are Jewish. This will have some HIGHLY PROBLEMATIC IMPLICATIONS further down the line, but we’ll get there.)

Eddie’s hero worship of Dan leads him to make his own costume, plus a “trident” (Dan has one too and that’s what they both call it, but you guys, you are devils, not mermen. They’re pitchforks.) that he uses to fly, which, UM??? Eddie is apparently a genius and no one ever comments on it?

Eddie is probably best known these days in fandom for his extremely brief (it’s a four page story) friendship with Jason Todd in his Robin days. They are PEN PALS and they team up to catch a jewel thief and it’s so damn cute:

But not too long after this, Blue Devil was canceled, and Eddie faded into obscurity. That is, until he showed up on the Teen Titans 20 years later, looking like this:

Eddie is now 17, and the intervening years have been extraordinarily shitty for him.

First, his Aunt Marla was like “Hey, I talked your parents into letting you stay with me indefinitely, because I love you!” and it took him years to realize that actually, his parents had suggested he stay in Hollywood because they didn’t want him.

Then Marla died in a freak helicopter crash, because some safety lights that should have been on were out. Eddie struggled to keep a job after that, since he’s not actually very good at being a gopher/PA. (Why he was allowed to live on his own/work/not go to school as a minor is not explained.)

He decided to focus on being a superhero, but no one wants a kid in a devil suit with no powers, so that didn’t go so hot either. Eventually he got his chance when a mysterious hooded stranger gave him a black candle, which...Eddie, no. Lighting the candle took him to Neron, who is one of the DCU’s several versions of the devil, specifically the one who makes Faustian bargains with characters.

Neron asked Eddie who he trusted the most in the world, and Eddie said Blue Devil. Neron offered Eddie a deal: he would give Eddie powers, and in exchange, if Eddie ever lost his trust in Blue Devil, his soul would belong to Neron on his 20th birthday. Eddie, thinking nothing could shake his faith in his hero, agreed.

And then Neron told him that Blue Devil killed Marla.

This was in fact completely true. Years ago, Dan had made a deal with Neron: fame in exchange for destroying a power station in the middle of nowhere. Dan, assuming no one would be hurt, agreed. The power station being down was the reason the warning lights were out during Marla’s helicopter crash. Dan never told anyone the truth about her death.

Eddie refuses to believe him, because after all, Neron is a demon and demons lie. He goes on to finally join the Teen Titans as the happy go lucky comic relief/loser. But it weighs on him, and finally he confronts Dan:

Eddie realizes to his horror that his soul is now forfeit to Neron on his 20th birthday, which is less than three years away. But he doesn’t want anyone to pity him, and he doesn’t want to spend the next three years being miserable, so he doesn’t tell anyone (except his friend Zachary Zatara, who was there when he met Neron), and continues to be the sweet, seemingly happy-go-lucky comic relief of the 2000s-era Titans. EDDIE MY DARLING. 😭

I do want to pause here to talk about the implications of Eddie’s transformation. Like I said earlier, Eddie is Jewish. Even if that’s never confirmed in the comics, even if he isn’t religious (we have no evidence one way or the other), Eddie is at the very least ethnically Jewish on his father’s side. This is the extremely clear intent of his (also Jewish) creators.

Jewish people having horns, and just generally being associated with devils, is a very, very old stereotype dating back to the Middle Ages. It was used in Nazi propaganda. I’m a millennial, and I know Jewish people my age who have been asked where their horns are. It is a living stereotype, and an incredibly dangerous one.

I am...let’s say 90% sure that giving a Jewish character horns was a genuine mistake? Maybe Geoff Johns, who wrote that storyline, didn’t realize that “Bloomberg” was a Jewish last name. Maybe he wasn’t familiar with the stereotype. But I can rattle off a whole list of shockingly racist things that man has written by (maybe) accident, and he was one of the people Ray Fisher called out for racism during the filming of Justice League, so...who knows. I love Eddie, I love the devil version of him, but I also don’t trust Geoff Johns an inch, and am generally very uncomfortable with the implications of this particular transformation. (Also, like...cramming a Jewish character into Christian mythology like this is still pretty gross. Jews don’t believe in Hell.)

Eddie has a lengthy tenure on the Titans, from the mid-2000s almost all the way to the New 52. Like I said before, he’s largely comic relief/the “loser” team member who thinks no one likes him (and some characters are pretty relentlessly contemptuous of him, particularly Cassie and Tim during their era of being written horribly OOC at all times). He’s also incredibly self-sacrificing - at one point a villain tries to kill him but accidentally absorbs his curse instead, and Eddie insists on taking it back, because he can’t let anyone suffer in his place, even a rando who tried to murder him for no reason. EDDIE MY LOVE.

And he does have friends! Aside from his friendship with Zachary Zatara (who isn’t really on the team), he’s particularly close with Miss Martian and Blue Beetle.

And then there’s Rose Wilson, Ravager. She joins the team right around the same time Eddie does, and he very obviously has a massive crush on her. Rose equally obviously does not really know how to relate to people in an honest and healthy way, so she veers wildly between flirting with Eddie, being scathingly cruel to him, opening up to him in a way she doesn’t with anyone else, and going feral to protect him.

Also, this happens:

I have never recovered.

Eddie eventually loses his powers when he’s bitten by Brother Blood, because sure, why not? A trip to Hell confirms that not only is he free of his obligation to Neron, but he never actually signed a contract in the first place - Neron simply activated Eddie’s latent metagene, which...turned him into a demon for reasons but can be mystically deactivated, apparently? Look, there’s no time to make sense, Eddie has a noble sacrifice to get to!

Eddie is happy to be free of Hell, obviously, but he’s now stuck being support staff for the Titans, since he doesn’t have any powers. Rose, who had left the team a while back, returns and tries to get Eddie to leave with her, since it’s dangerous to be powerless around superheroes. He turns her down. EDDIE, NO.

Literally the next issue, a riot breaks out on Alcatraz, which is a supervillain prison in the DCU. While the Titans are fighting the supervillains, Eddie is tricked by the Calculator into flying out to the island in the T-Jet to try to find a nuke. When he discovers that the nuke is just a man with radioactive powers who is melting down and minutes from exploding, he gets the man into the T-Jet and flies it as high as possible before the explosion, saving the Titans, Alcatraz, and San Francisco.

😭😭😭

Eddie stayed dead for the next year or so, and then the New 52 happened. He appeared in one issue as Blue Devil’s godson in the New 52; then returned for one more issue with his powers intact in Rebirth.

And then he died at Sanctuary in Heroes in Crisis, because apparently if you’re a redheaded friend of Jason Todd with a penchant for backwards baseball caps, you’re gonna die in HiC.

We haven’t seen Eddie since, so it’s anyone’s guess whether he was brought back to life by Infinite Frontier or not. I choose to believe he was, because I love him and I say so.

If you want to read about Eddie, your best bet is the 2003 Teen Titans series. It’s, like...pretty bad, but it’s also the lion’s share of Eddie’s appearances, and he’s extremely lovable. If you’re looking for fic, I'm mostly familiar with stories where he appears as Jason’s bestie. Eddie Fucking Bloomberg by chucklesbuckles makes me laugh every time I read it. Eddie also has small but delightful roles in the longer JayRoy fics i wish i was by @shhhenanigans and gentle on my mind (the actual world) by @hamjay. And Burning my defenses by the shaking of her hips is some excellent Rose/Eddie by @macabrekawaii.

(Also, I have a fic about him coming next week! Stay tuned!)

In conclusion: don’t cry. Baby Eddie in Tiny Titans, okay?

#eddie bloomberg #kid devil #red devil #character profiles #meta

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in-a-mountain-pool · 5 months

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The Dragon Boy - Chapter One

Aemond x Fem!Dragonseed OC Kaelys Waters

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Teen and Up Audiences

warnings: Angst, Romance, Major Character Death

word count: ~3600+

summary: Chaos unfolds after the battle at the Gods Eye. After his defeat, Prince Aemond Targaryen is declared dead, laying at the bottom of the great lake. Upon hearing the news, Kaelys Waters, a Dragonseed from Aemond’s past defects from the Blacks, and stumbles upon a mysterious enigmatic dragon with a broken wing. Tending to its wounds and reminiscing of her childhood infatuation, she mourns the passing of the Prince Regent. Love deepens amid a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in a heart-warming tale of love transcending magic and curses, uniting two souls against all odds.

Originally posted on AO3

A/N: Hi everyone! Here it is, this is my submission for @hotd-bigbang! I'd like to give a huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for putting together this wonderful event, and for being so understanding of my chaotic writing process! It was an absolute pleasure getting to work with @cyeco13 , who has produced some of the most gorgeous artwork for this story (I literally teared up opening her messages!), thank you so much for capturing Aemond and Kaelys so perfectly.

Thanks for reading! To begin with, this was intended to be a one-shot but due to some circumstances beyond my control, I have decided to break it up into two chapters. Chapter two will be posted this time next week!

As always likes, reblogs and comments are not a requirement, but lovely to come online to.

The nights were cold in the Dragonpit, without the loving embrace of a mother or a father to shield you from the harsh land of Westeros, where frigid winds would pierce through like icy daggers. You had been there as long as you could remember, your earliest memories buried under years of neglect, left outside the pit in nothing but a tattered moth-eaten shawl. In a twist of fate, the Dragonkeepers had taken you under their wing, the first girl in history to be welcomed into the ancient order of guards.

You, a nameless orphan, were christened Kaelys, and raised as their own. But life had been hard and food scarce. Amidst crumbling stones of the pit, life was a relentless test of your mettle, a crucible of endurance. As the only girl, the other boys of the order would revel in their power and torment you relentlessly. They were the bane of your life, their taunts and physical assaults a painful reminder of the harsh realities that defined your existence.

In the dead of night, when the hunger had finally become unbearable, on stumbling feet you’d crept into the Red Keep, hugging the stone walls, searching for a scrap of whatever you could find. Within the fortress, an eerie stillness reigned supreme, a collective hush falling over the walls as if a great secret dwelled inside. Company was sparse this late at night, save for the sporadic appearance of a Goldcloak on patrol. During your tutelage you had mastered the art of silence, moving with a grace so profound that even the most vigilant of men might mistake you for a shadow in the night. You’d had to, growing up around the majestic and terrible beasts of the House Targaryen.

The only light you had seen in the imposing halls had been a small crack under a great set of wooden doors and the smell of old parchment. Curiosity got the better of you, and you gently pushed forward to take a peek…

Inside was a small boy with silver hair, a boy you recognised…

It was him.

The boy without a dragon.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

When the door creaked your heart froze as the child whipped his head around with an almost otherworldly reflex.

Aemond stared at you for a moment, his head tilted over slightly to the side. The boy's violet eyes held a quiet curiosity, gazing at you in the same manner you’d seen him study the dragons inside the pit.

In a small yet commanding voice, he called out to you, standing up slowly from his solar.

“... Who goes there…? What might your name be, girl?”

Not a word left your lips, your face panic-stricken and pale as the moonlight creeping through the bay windows of the library.

A quiet but exasperated huff left his cat-like mouth, and a look of dissatisfaction decorated his delicate features.

“That’s not very polite, is it? You should at least tell me your name. I promise, I won’t tell on you.”

Aemond attempted to make eye contact with you to no avail, met with a wall of silence. A soft scowl fell over his face, like he’d perhaps thought something might be wrong with you. Or like you were a puzzle that he wished to solve.

Finding your courage you shifted out of the shadows, eyes searching the halls around you for the slightest movement in the dark.

“... Kaelys, My Prince. ‘My name is Kaelys.” You croak out in a pathetic tone, giving a rather poor curtsey, copying the movements you’d seen his sister, the Princess Helaena practice to the knights at the tourney months earlier.

You wobble slightly as you ascend from the floor, the scrap of your dress hem catching under your sandaled foot.

The boy smiled and chuckled before you, nodding with a little grin like he’d finally made some progress. His curiosities were still present as he beckoned you into the warm library and eagerly offered you a seat beside him.

“Well, good evening, Kaelys. … Why, if I might ask, are you here in the Keep, all alone?” Aemond whispered, leaning forward to inspect you.

“... ‘was hungry, my Prince. P-please, don’t call the guards. I’ll leave quietly. Quiet as a mouse! ‘Won’t even know I was ‘ere!” You uttered fearfully, your hazel eyes locked to his, begging him silently.

Lilac eyes widened and peered into yours once more.

“Hungry…?” Aemond asked, like such a thing was unthinkable to him, brought up amongst such riches. After a moment, his eyes fluttered and his bottom lip trembled.

“I won’t call anyone. No Guards. C-Come with me.” Aemond extended a pale shaking hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

“T-The kitchens should have some supper for you. I’d certainly be more comfortable with you not being out here… all alone in these halls.”

“Kitchens?! I- can’t! If I’m seen there I’ll get the lashing of a lifetime!” You whispered frantically, staring down at the boy’s hand, elegant fingers reaching out to you.

How could you touch him? It felt wrong when you were so grubby and dirty, to mar something so fair and beautiful as him, like you might leave an immovable stain on his perfect skin.

The words tumbled out in a way most unnatural to you. What was it about this boy, a Prince no less, that made you feel you could trust him? You seldom ever spoke, not even to your mentors. You had only ever felt safe with your dragons.

“T'aint proper. The Dragonkeepers stay in the pit. We eat in the pit. Sleep in the pit. I’m… not a Lady. Not Royalty.” You mumble, gesturing to him and looking down at his velvet boots next to your dirty feet, remembering your place.

Not once did he ever lower his hand, almost as if he was trying to tame you like a wild animal, like one of his family’s dragons in the pit. He approached you with caution, but with an unmistakable respect and patience that made your heart anxious.

“Kaelys…? Do you have any place to rest your head at night?” Aemond questioned you in a gentle tone, peering into your tired eyes. “Does someone look after you?”

“Mother and Father are dead. Left me outside the Keep. Dragonkeepers feed me, but… we’re often hungry.”

Aemond seemed stunned into silence. The realisation that the tiny girl in front of him, of no more than 12 years, was alone. Truly alone. The longer he was silent, the more uncomfortable he became. The thought that a girl, so young and vulnerable, had already lost everything she’d ever had or could ever hope to own. She’d never really had a chance, and it just wasn't right.

The boy straightened up and stood taller, a determined resolute look in his pointed features.

“You’re coming with me. And before you say another word, I’m not going to tell on you. In fact, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” His tone had changed, much softer and caring than it had been moments before.

You had heard stories about the young prince. He was lonely, and studious, the polar opposite of his raucous brother, Aegon. Perhaps he had just wanted a friend? Underneath the silver hair and the riches of his house, he was a lanky sort of boy, on the cusp of something greater than himself. So unsure, and so desperate to connect.

Ever so cautiously, you reached out to take his hand in yours. Next to him, your hand looked so careworn and grubby, unworthy. He saw the dirt under your fingernails, and the weeks of grime on your dress, yet he never faltered in his grip as he discreetly led you deeper into the Keep along lonely corridors to his chambers.

Once inside you couldn’t believe your eyes. You’d never seen such grandeur, the table filled with foods from all over Westeros, and all for the supper of one boy. There were meats piled high, roasted beef and potatoes, boiled vegetables and breads. Decadent sweets glistened in the candlelight, with mounds of delicate lemoncakes, sugared biscuits and candied fruits.

His room was filled with treasures and trinkets from all over Westeros and Essos. A dothraki sword adorned the wall above his bed, and a coin collection was scattered across his bed, with gold, silver and coppers of all shapes and sizes dotted about like stars upon his midnight blue blankets. Large shells almost as big as your head decorated a large desk near the balcony desk. You’d later discover they had been taken from a bay in Volantis by his Father, and he’d been drawing them in a notepad. Marble carved dragons were placed in order of size along his mantle, with random shards of dragon glass decorating his chaotic but organised desk. But best of all was a worn plush of Balerion the Black Dread, shoved underneath his pillow, sewn by his wet nurse when he was a child.

As Aemond stepped inside, he reluctantly set down your hand, keeping a gentle eye on your expression. Your eyes were wide with wonder taking in the lavish food he readily offered you like it was nothing.

“... D-Don’t worry, Kaelys. That food is mine, mine to give you. Made by the finest cooks in the Keep.” Stumbling a little, he stepped behind you, and it took you a moment to realise that he intended to pull a chair for you to sit on.

Almost like he would a real Lady.

“Here. We- we can eat together, if you like? Like friends do.”

Slowly he started to make up a generous plate for you, with a selection of meats and vegetables to give you back your strength. With a shaking hand, he placed it in front of you, nodding and digging into his own.

Through a mouthful of food you finally start to speak once more, stealing timid glances at the young Prince..

“... Friends? D- Do you have many friends… that you play with?”

A heavy silence fell upon the room as the boy drew into himself for a long while, the only noises the clatter of silverware and the late drafts of the night. Aemond spoke in a careful manner as to try to not let his feelings betray him. His voice began to break and the awkwardness began to seep out of him, reminding you he was just an adolescent boy, with the weight of a dynasty upon his shoulders.

“No… I rather suppose I don’t. In truth, It is… hard for me to make them.”

You felt a deep need to reach out and support him, or to at least make him feel less alone, the boy who’d let you into his world.

“Me too. I don't have any friends neither.” You whisper, brushing the pad of your index finger against the back of his hand… And then rather unexpectedly, Aemond laughed, making you retreat once more.

“Either… You don't have any friends, either.” He chuckled again, covering his cat-like smirk with his fingers.

Sensing your displeasure and discomfort he gave you a soft look and pushed a lemon cake towards your plate, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. He watched you for a while, as you picked at the crystallised peel in awe, giggling when your face puckered at the foreign sour sensation of the citrus in your cheeks.

Your eyes danced around the room as you ate, falling upon the small collection of little wooden knights left haphazardly before the roaring fire. You didn’t have any toys. You hadn’t ever been allowed to be a child.

“Would you- would you like to play with them? I can teach you all about my knights!”

Aemond's face lit up with unabashed excitement, youthful enthusiasm radiating from his every pore as he eagerly settled onto the floor beside the knights. In that moment, his age became evident in the meticulous grace with which he handled the toys, delicately extending them towards her, all the while tenderly bestowing each with a name. The boy spoke passionately, more animatedly than she had ever seen him in the dragon pit.

“This here is Aegon the Conqueror. Do you see? Each knight has their own dragon, and they ride together into war.”

As Aemond rambled on passionately , you couldn't help but find yourself joining him there in the warmth of the fire, legs crossed and shyly tracing the beautiful handmade figurines like they were made of glass.

“... She is beautiful. The big one.” You gesture bashfully, a rare smile gracing your face as he offers you the wooden toy. “... Vhagar.”

Aemond’s eyes widened, aglow with an innocence and wonder only a child’s eyes could muster.

“Yes! You know of Vhagar? And do you know why she is so special?

“She’s the oldest dragon in the whole world.” You say almost instantly, staring at the wooden dragon in admiration. “She was Queen Visenya’s dragon.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a glimmer of surprise, as if your knowledge of Vhagar had caught him off-guard.

“Yes, she was!” He admitted, his words imbued with a quiet reverence. “She still soars above our world to this day, a testament to her indomitable spirit. And, you know, one day, I’m going to be the one to mount her and take to the skies.”

Aemond'sAemonds gaze fixed on you, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as if he had entrusted you with a treasure trove of secrets known only to a select few.

“... Do you want to know another secret?” The boy asked with a small grin on his face, handing you yet another dragon.

Aemond drew in a deep breath, and his face lit up with a soft blush as he spoke the next words.

"I have a special wish, you know," he confided, his eyes locked onto Kaelys, eager to gauge her response. A hint of uncertainty lingered in his gaze, but his sincerity shone through.

"I want more than just a dragon, Kaelys. I want you to be my best friend."

And with that declaration, a unique bond was sealed. From that day forward, together you had embarked on clandestine adventures within the labyrinthine walls of the Red Keep, where you uncovered hidden nooks to play and whisper secrets to one another. Conversations had spanned countless hours, a symphony of dragon tales, and epic tales of knights and princesses that seemed to breathe life into the ancient stones of the castle and the dragon pit.

In each other, you had found your first and only true friends, kindred spirits divided by society. And when he’d finally claimed Vhagar, she had become your whole life, bringing you both even closer together.

He’d shown you what it meant to have a family.

… But if only you had known then, the horrors that would soon come to pass, dressed in colours of green, gold and black.

War had come to Westeros.

It had felt like the end of days, a tragedy painted with vicious strokes of fire and blood. The very ground beneath your feet had shaken, the winds had howled as dragons danced above the skies of the Riverlands in violent flashes of greens and reds, and clashes of razor sharp teeth. Brothers and sisters rode into war for a cause that no longer made sense, as kin marched upon kin, and dragons raged against dragons. History was dying, old magic was fading, all because one man, one King, had made a choice born from love.

But how could love ever endure in a world such as this? How could you fight for a Queen who ordered the death of an innocent child? Or a King that paraded the head of such a gracious beast as Meleys through the streets of Flea Bottom? How could hope live on here at the end of all things, where flames paint the skies, and babes were torn from their mother's arms?

… Helaena’s arms.

Since you’d heard the news from the other Dragonseeds’ on the battlefield you wouldn’t dare speak his name out loud. Bile would rise in your throat at the mere mention of him, the One-Eyed Prince, the Kinslayer, all of these names they’d given him, to the boy with violet eyes who’d captured your heart all those years ago.

He had met with his Uncle, your Mentor, above the God’s Eye only a week before. The village folk spoke of a fierce battle, with dragonfire so hot and so ferocious it was like the sky itself had been set aflame, and the Doom of Valyria had raged once more. The two beautiful beasts were said to have torn each other apart, Caraxes the Blood Wyrm sinking her teeth into Vhagar’s neck, before being disembowelled and crashing into the great lake below.

He, had always been so careful, even as a child, it was no wonder he’d chained himself so securely to the saddle. Daemon had known this and used it to his advantage. It had been you who had told Daemon so, you who had taught him how to tie the chains to keep him safe. Neither man nor dragon could have survived such a fall. Even a Targaryen Prince.

And now he was gone, it had felt like you might as well have drowned with him there in the God’s Eye. When your tears had fallen, you had insisted you had cried for Daemon, though the others who truly knew you had known better.

The smell of the summer flowers in the Godswood had filled your dreams, the sounds of children’s laughter, the warmth of his hand in yours. Braiding hair as white as snow, the flash of lilac in the candlelight of the Red Keep at night. Since you’d departed for Harenhal as a Dragonseed of the Black’s, you’d carried a piece of him in the pocket of your riding jacket, a small wooden carving of Vhagar he’d had made just for you. Every night you’d gripped it tight and wept for the loss of her… and her rider.

For you, the war was over. There was nothing left to fight for.

No one left to protect.

Under the moonlit sky, you rode through the darkness, leaving behind the tumultuous Black's encampment. The biting cold couldn't compare to the numbness that gripped your heart. The horse beneath you felt unfamiliar, its warmth offering no solace compared to the fiery passion and adventure that once accompanied your dragon, Bhaesys.

The battlefield had claimed her, just as it had claimed Vhagar and him.

Daemon, the architect of destruction, had torn apart not only your dragon but also your life, leaving the House of the Dragon in ruins and the land scarred with suffering.

With no clear destination in mind, you rode relentlessly for nearly a month, only to find yourself at the God's Eye. The vast expanse of tranquil waters reflected the sun's rays, masking the grim reality that all was not well in the world. Despite its majestic appearance, the God's Eye was a tomb, a silent witness to the ravages of war.

It became evident that you couldn't bear the weight any longer—the months of conflict, the years of hardship and camaraderie. Your love for him hit you with an intensity that felt like a physical blow to the gut.

He was gone, forever.

The memories flooded your mind—the sound of his voice, the echoes of laughter in the Red Keep's libraries, the sparkle in his violet eyes as you soared through the skies together.

Violent screams, unrecognisable even to yourself, reverberated across the still lake. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed to your knees at the water's edge. Nettle's words echoed like a death knell, the cruel truth seeping into your soul:

"They couldn't retrieve a body."

He would never receive the burial befitting his noble lineage, never rest in the Great Sept with his ancestors.

Clutching the small wooden carving of Vhagar, you gripped it so tightly that it pierced your skin. Anything to distract from the sharp, agonising emptiness in your chest. The God's Eye, once a place of beauty, now mirrored the desolation within you—a stark reminder of the irreparable loss that had befallen your world.

It was night before you could wretch yourself away from the water’s edge, taking refuge in a large cave in the woods nearby, overlooking the Isle of Faces. Stepping into its deep interior, you were met with a pervasive dampness and bitter cold that clung to the air, accompanied by a low, wispy draft that whispered tales of undiscovered mysteries, cautioning against the disturbance of ancient stones better left untouched.

Guided by an inexplicable force that seemed to emanate from the recesses of your very heart, your feet carried you further into the cavern's depths. The very essence of the cave resonated with age and magic, invoking echoes of legends that spoke of the Children of the Forest and ancient tales of the First Men that had woven themselves into the fabric of these lands.

As you delved deeper, the surroundings cloaked you in an intensifying darkness, each step marked by the crumbling of wet gravel beneath your feet. Until suddenly, a strange warmth in the air began to prickle at your skin, humid and dank in a way that clung to you.

This was no ordinary hollow.

The pervading silence, almost otherworldly in its nature, gave way to an unsettling deep rumbling that resonated through the core of the earth beneath your feet. Turning a corner, the growling intensified, growing deeper and louder until a sudden realisation dawned upon you - a recognition etched in the core of your being.

The feeling was unmistakable, a sensation so familiar to you from a lifetime spent in the depths of the Dragon Pit.

Awe and trepidation mingled as the truth unfolded…

You stood in the majestic presence of a dragon.

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