#i watched the green knight this morning too

[604]

saw puss in boots again.. the only movie ive seen in theatres twice since dune so i guess it’s officially as good as dune

#i watched the green knight this morning too #two movies which share a theme ...... but only one has jimminy cricket in it #p

[mo-aiki]

One-sided Love Exist... (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: You have been in love with your fiancé, but all you know is that he isn't in love with you until you do something about it.

Notes: I got this inspiration from @mayulla, their story is here. Also, I might or might not do a part 2 for this story so wait on that

Warning: fake love, forced love, obsession, I don't condone these behaviors, I just write it.

Love.

Something you have always wished for to happen to you. All of the love stories you have read. You wished to be the princess saved by her knight or to be a princess who saves the one she loves. That was all you wanted. A knight or a prince in shining armor. That's where your fiancé came in.

A duke's son. Your fiancé, Alaric de Caius. He had seemed to fit the mold, perfectly. He looked regal and handsome with his black hair and dark blue eyes. You were only 9 when you had met him, but you couldn't help but smile when you first saw him.

Overtime you had absolutely fallen in love with him. He was a man of morals, he believe in the same things as you of what was right and wrong, he was academically talented, he was athletically talented, and he treated people around him the same whether or not they held a title.

A wonderful man.

But the problems arose when you had seen he had never paid attention towards you.

He never looked you way, seemed to say anything towards you, or seem to acknowledge you at all.

"Good morning Alaric!"

He wouldn't look.

You didn't understand why he ignored you. His indifference towards you, hurt. You didn't know if it was your ego that was hurting or it was truly your heart that was hurting, but something was in pain. But you didn't give up! Both of you were bound to get married to each other, one day!

Often talking to him first, soon enough he responded.

Bringing sweets such as cookies or sweet bread from the kitchen. Watching him eat it with no signs of disgust, might have made your day.

But you must also strive hard too! To be worthy of being a Duchess, you must help him by studying, taking up hobbies such as perfecting painting, embroidery and writing poems that have deep meanings. You must also know how to manage a household, so you asked your father if you could learn how to manage the servant's wages and everything going on in the household.

Everything you did was for him.

You did not partake in gossip with your bestest of friends, you didn't spread malicious rumors about someone, and you tried not to do the most selfish thing if there was a selfless option. Your friends, love you but saw you in pain. "Why do you do these stressful things (y/n)?" they would constantly ask.

"Because I am going to be future Duchess one day, I must prepare!" You would say cheerfully.

Alina Thompson.

Her family was new money. Her father was a merchant who was able to strike gold in selling a once thought, rare ore. Opening trades with the east, she has risen to become the daughter or Baron Thompson.

Your friends didn't like her. One of them saying, "There is something off about her..." and another saying, "Why does she look at Duke Caius like that..."

You had brought it up to Alaric one day. He said there was, "Nothing to worry about, she is just an acquaintance.", and at first you didn't worry, heck you even befriended her. She was pretty. Her hair, long and blonde, her eyes a bright green color like emeralds, and her smile the brightest you have ever seen. She often wore pink and you did as well. But she always seemed to not get along with your friends after a few meetings. Or any noble women in fact. She had always stirred the pot with the other women in high society, supposedly acting different as if she had 2 different personalities in front of others. But she had always gotten along with the men. They spoke high praises of her. From her looks to personality. She even had admirers of her own. She was perfect, but most women disliked her. But you didn't think anything of it.

Until the day of the royal ball.

You saw with your very own eyes. Alaric's arm, being held by her's. She had the brightest, most shameless smile that day. All the men looked uncomfortable while the women were shocked. It was no secret that you and Alaric were engaged. And it was definitely no secret that you were in love with him.

They danced together. They wore matching outfits. Even the flowers on both of their corsages were the same. He had smiled at her as they were dancing. He gave her, her first dance of high society at her first ball, a royal one in fact. There was no way he had no idea what he meant by his actions. Your heart shattered as your friends got mad at both of them.

"Why that sly fox! How could she betray your kindness like this?!"

"(y/n)! If you need to I can kill him myself!"

"No!" you had quietly yelled out.

You friends looked at you, worried on their faces. "(b/s/f #1), (b/s/f #2), I need to...go..."

You ran away towards the royal garden, letting your tears to flow down.

Once you got home, you destroyed the books, the gifts he gave you and finally sat down on the floor and cried you heart out.

Your heart had shattered that day, nothing felt like it was going to fix it. It felt like the end of the world.

The next day came, and you holed yourself up in your room.

Your bedroom door would not open. Nothing will work. Your father was worried, your friends, pestered at you, and the servants knock and check up on you as well. But even though you knew all these people cared, you truly only wanted one person to come and see you, Alaric.

You don't know if you were a masochist or not, but you did want answers.

Soon, one of the maids came in. "Leave me alone..." you mumbled in your pillow.

"No. Duke Caius is here to visit you. So I must get you ready, young lady."

You looked up at the maid as she chuckled. "What's so funny?" you asked almost like a pouting child.

"Your eyes are puffy my lady. If you do not want the Duke to notice it, I suggest you get ready, now."

You pouted as you got up.

The next thing you knew, you had seen Alaric. His perfectly combed over hair, his eyes, calm, and the placement of his lapels, in order as followed. You had bowed your head down slightly, as he sat down at the table.

You didn't even bother looking at him. If you did, you didn't think you could bear it. It was an embarrassing night for you. All you did was look at your tea, slowly stirring the sugar cube, looking at it and spacing out in the process.

"(y/n)?"

You looked up. This was the first time he had ever called out your name. He had always referred to you as Lady (l/n), out of formality, but he has never called out your name like you do his.

"Did you hear what I said?"

You took a moment and shook your head. "No, I'm sorry..."

"That's okay, I can say it again."

Why did your heart tug at this? You felt yourself being anxious for what he wanted to say. But first you wanted the answer to why he brought Alina to the royal ball the other night.

"I had brought out Lady Thompson to the ball a few nights ago, because of her father. He had wanted to make sure his daughter secured an escort for her first royal ball. He had insisted I had better escort her, otherwise she wouldn't come."

An excuse.

"I helped her father find the rare ore that had made him Baron. I must help him again."

Lies.

"So that's your excuse..." you mumbled out of your mouth.

He looked at you, his eyes were still. He had no emotion after what you had just said. "(y/n), it's the truth."

"Lies. We are engaged, but my debutant ball and first royal ball, you didn't escort me at all."

You remember it well. He had said he was busy, and you thought nothing of it, because he wouldn't escort or dance with anyone else anyways.

"When we had our first dance, you didn't even look at me."

It broke your heart that night when you both finally had that first dance you had been waiting for, only to be sad when he didn't smile, look or seemed to be enjoying it in any way.

"I had wanted us to get matching outfits, but you held it off saying, 'you hadn't gotten measured yet'."

He would get measured for an outfit for another woman, but not you? His own fiancé?

You felt nothing but anger now towards him. "Was it a waste of my time to devote it all towards you? I know your favorite snacks, colors, meal, drink, what to do as duchess..."

You felt like you were about to cry again, but tried to hold it in. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?!" your hands slammed the table as you felt your tears coming down your face as you looked at him.

Hoping he would say it wasn't in vain. That all of these things you did for him, would mean something.

"I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

You couldn't believe you had ever loved this man.

You immediately went back inside, and into your room to cry once more.

Alaric has never needed anyone close to him.

He never understood you and your stupid antics to get closer towards him. From bringing snacks, to gifting the books he so wanted, to talking to him way to often.

He had an alright childhood. His father was sick and his mother was dead from childbirth, so he needed to become duke heir at a young age. Relying on himself to make the right or wrong decisions while his father's health deteriorated overtime.

His father wanted him to get married to his close friend, Marquis (l/n), so he arranged the engagement before his death, and after his death when he was 15, he kept it on because it was one of his father's final wishes. To see their families united.

But sometimes he couldn't stand (y/n). When he first met her, he had no opinions of her, other than the fact that she was nothing more than a clumsy girl trying to get his attention.

She was trying to live out fairytale romances through him. She had wanted him to be her knight in shining armor. And he didn't care for it.

He ignored her until she kept on pestering him.

Soon, they did their small talks.

He ignored the food she had gave him.

Until he ate it because he was hungry and it was his favorites.

He ignored her all throughout his childhood, because he never needed her as much as he did. He saw her as pathetic, but he couldn't help but fuel her pathetic attempts to get him to love her.

He did didn't need her. He didn't need her at all.

Plus, she was well liked. Both women and men liked her. But sometimes those men that liked her too much got on his nerves to the point of threatening them into silence. She didn't need him, she wanted him. And he didn't need her as well.

But he thought he felt something when he met Alina for the first time. But later, he realized it was nothing more than curiosity. But whenever he was around (y/n), there was always a feeling that he didn't know what it was, but always put it off, until it came creeping onto him whenever he was with Alina.

It was clear she was jealous of (y/n) and her life, so she had tried to mimic her. Her cheery attitude, beautiful smile, and her happy-go-lucky demeanor, even though he could tell that she was nothing more than hollow shell of an impression. She did all these things so that he could pay attention to her. But Alina was worse than (y/n).

Her personality and character are terrible.

She always seemed to get into fights with the other women. Whether petty drama or something a tad bit more serious. She had always seem to never get along with them. Unlike (y/n).

She was terrible at any financial things. Counting money properly, distributing money equally, and figuring out the budget. Unlike (y/n)

She had always seemed to look at others as if she was better than them. Often subtly bragging a new pendant, earrings, bracelet, shoes, dress, or hair accessories. Unlike (y/n)

Her tea was awful to drink. She always stepped on someone's toes for no good reason. Her embroidery was lackluster. Her paintings, a clear imitation. Unlike (y/n).

He remembered a time where (y/n)'s tea was bitter, when she stepped on someone's feet while dancing, when her paintings were dull, and when she had a hard time managing money. It was absolutely a clumsy and nerve-racking time. But slowly, it had shown improvement, unlike Alina's tea.

All of these hobbies that Alina had picked up and all of her personal quirks have cause him to realize one thing.

He would never look her way.

He picked Alina because he thought he could finally drive (y/n) away from her antics and say he is not interested in her at all.

When he went to the royal ball and was dancing with Alina, all he could ever think of was how (y/n) would react in the same situation. Her bright smile, cheerful eyes and glowing aura would all be very lovely. He couldn't help but unconsciously smile during the dance, and it seemed to have fueled Alina's determination to take her down.

But now he wonders why he had those thoughts during the dance with Alina.

She had holed up in her manor ever since that royal ball.

Alaric didn't see her. No letter, no snacks, no anything. Nothing had came. He should be elated. Happy. Excited. Joyful.

But all he felt was a big hole. A big empty hole somewhere in his body.

He had thought he had heard her all over the place. "Alaric. You need to stop overworking yourself to death! You might get sick!"

"It's none of your concerns, Lady (l/n)."

"Huh?"

He looked up from his paperwork, only to see his secretary looking at him, confused? "What did you say, Your Grace?"'

He looked down at his paperwork. "Nothing of note."

It happened again when he was reading through the manor's ledgers. "Can I help you with that Alaric? I'm very good with ledgers!"

"It is fine Lady (l/n)."

"Your Grace?"

Once again, he looked up only to see his butler, looking at him confused.

He felt like he was going insane.

He had developed a high fever one day from overworking. His butler called in the family's doctor, and the doctor said to take a break today.

But his fever kept on running, and the maids didn't know what to do. They gave him water that was too hot, his body kept on sweating, and they gave him food too salty for his condition. They were all incompetent when he was sick all of the sudden. And to top it off, his secretary still needed him to do paperwork for the estate.

During his time with his fever, he unconsciously only thought to see one person. (y/n).

He had wanted her to be by his side when he was sick. To take care of him and to see him recover. He wanted her to scold at him for overworking. He wanted to see her happy after he did recover from this fever. He had wanted to see her, no, he felt like he needed to see her.

He slowly opened his eyes as he was asleep for a bit. He thought he saw her in his groggy state. "...(y/n)..?"

Only to finally see clearly. It was Alina. And she looked pissed, but he was even more pissed. "How dare you! How dare you call out the name of that woman when I'm here?!"

He got up and yelled. "GUARDS!"

She got mad. "Oh, now you're calling the guards?! I came here to help you! And this is what I get?!"

He looked at her with contempt. "How did you know I was sick?"

She looked anxious. "The butler told me! He contacted me with a letter! Look!"

She pulled out a messily handwritten letter as people came up towards his room. His secretary and butler came to his side. "Who is this?" his secretary asked.

Alaric's head was banging, but managed to respond. "Lady Thompson. I do not know how she got here."

Alina looked scarred as the secretary called a maid to call the guards. "How did you get in here Lady Thompson?"

"I got here because the butler told me to come here because His Grace is sick!"

The butler looked confused. "I do not recall writing a letter to anyone."

Alina got mad. "Yes you did! I have the evidence!"

She held her letter as the secretary grabbed it out of her hands. "Butler, is this your handwriting?"

The butler fixed his glasses and shook his head. "I do not write this sloppily, even when writing fast."

Alina got even more mad as the guard got up the stairs. "Your Grace?"

"Take her away, and make sure she never sets foot in the estate again."

"Wha..? HEY!" The guards took Alina while she protested. All the servants went back to work as his secretary looked at him. "I will investigate where that letter came from, Your Grace."

Alaric looked at the ceiling as he started to lay down in his bed. "There is no need. But do investigate how she got in here and how she knew. We might have a stalker on our hands if I'm not careful..."

His secretary nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I hope you recover quickly, soon."

All he could do is stare up to the ceiling. Thinking. If (y/n) had done this, maybe he wouldn't had been as mad as he was back there. Maybe he would had enjoyed her trying to fumble out a response of how she knew he was sick. Maybe he would had enjoyed her antics of trying to cure him of his fever.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly fell back asleep, dreaming.

When he had gotten better after 3 days, he immediately went to the (l/n) estate. He didn't know why, but he needed to go there after his fever.

He was led to the garden as he waited for her to get ready. Then he looked around. The garden was filled with flowers. Pink, white, purple, and blue flowers seemed to be her favorite. The servants brought out her favorite tea set. A pink and white ceramic one. He has only seen it every time she had hosted her friends. She only brought out the other tea sets with him.

She looked different. She looked less lively. Her skin looked pale, her eyes a bit puffy and her hands fiddling with the tea cup, nervously.

He had only brought up his purpose at being in at the royal ball with Alina, when she started talking about his shortcomings in their relationship.

How he didn't accompany her to her first ball, didn't look at her for their first dance, and how he always gave an excuse for not wearing matching outfits.

But something came out of his mouth when talking to her. "I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

He felt annoyed at her behavior. She got too clingy and annoying now. Bringing up insignificant things. She got annoying in this very moment.

She soon ran away as he left the (l/n) estate.

He wanted to go home and rid his memories of her immature behavior. Hoping that her behavior won't continue again.

A/N: I should do a part 2. But you'll have to wait a while.

#yandere x reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #x f reader

[saradika]

— beneath the mask

din djarin x f!reader

rated t - 1.3k

tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father

prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly” from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose 💖

when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions

With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.

A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.

You're still a lady.

And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.

But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.

You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.

Your soulmate.

Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people you’ve looked at, throughout your years.

And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.

Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.

If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.

And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.

Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.

The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.

Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.

All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.

Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.

A Mandalorian, it was rumored.

Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.

He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.

But that didn't mean he did not wound.

That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.

Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.

Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.

You were given as the prize, in the end.

Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.

And this is what also slows your feet.

Wondering why such a man would come for you.

At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.

Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.

Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?

Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?

Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?

You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.

It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.

Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.

The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.

Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.

Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.

The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.

Gentle, after everything.

Not him.

But perhaps, not a monster.

The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.

A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.

Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?

Or will it be more like the battlefield?

These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.

And then, you're alone.

Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.

Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.

Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.

A different man than before, you think.

There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.

His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.

"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.

Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.

"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."

"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.

He goes still, at your retreat.

"Do you not, ner kar’ta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"

The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.

He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.

His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.

And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.

You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.

For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.

"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.

He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.

Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.

Only now, do you see all of him.

And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.

You hadn’t been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.

Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.

I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.

There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.

"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.

And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."

"Yes," He smiles.

"Yours."

i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din 💖 thank you for reading!!

ner kar’ta - my heart

#so sorry I am late my love #I have been thinking about this so much - such an great prompt and event!! 💖 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #writing challenge #din djarin imagine #din djarin

[helaelaemond]

To Watch - Aemond x reader

Pairing:  Aemond x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Aemond reads an old story from the Reach to you in bed. You like to see how long he can read aloud before he stutters.

Content warning(s): none

INCLUDES: handjob (m receiving)

Taglist: @babyblue711 / @myfandomprompts / @sylasthegrim / @arcielee

“And so it was on that first fateful morning that Ser Emmon saw the sweet Queen Delena, and knew he loved her.” 

You smile as Aemond reads aloud to you, no louder than a whisper. “I missed you today.” 

He turns the page of the book in his hand. “Hmm?” 

“You didn’t join us for dinner. It was just Aegon and I.” 

“Well, that’s not so bad.” He runs slow circles over your waist with his thumb where you lie in his bed, propped up by soft feather pillows.

“That’s why you should have been there.” On the new page of the book in his hand, there is a gilded painting of a knight in silver armour, and the queen in her crown of flowers. “Just us.” 

“I just needed some time alone after today.” 

You inch closer to him and turn slightly to press your chest against him. He is so close that you can see every eyelash, every ghost of the freckles that used to splash across his nose. “I saw you in the yard for hours.” 

“Were you watching me?” The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. 

“No,” you lie. 

He glances at you, close enough to kiss, and you grin in delight at him. “What did you think?” 

“Nothing. I wasn’t watching.” 

Aemond leans across the small distance between you and tilts his head. Your noses touch, and the slightest movement closer would let your lips meet. “Do you know what I think?” 

While his one eye closes, yours remain open. He is blurry this close, but in the dim light of the room, his sapphire sparkles. “Sometimes.”

“Do you know what I am thinking at this very moment?” 

It’s difficult to bite back laughter. He makes you so very happy. “No.” 

“I think you like to watch.” 

Too thick is the air between you for you to stand anymore, and you try to kiss him, your mouth aching for the touch of his lips. He pulls back slightly, denying you.

“Aemond,” you protest in a soft whisper. 

“Well?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. “Do you?” 

Smiling widely, you rest your head on his shoulder and touch the page in front of them. “Keep reading.” 

“Alright.” He sighs in contentment, and starts at the top of the page. “But it was to her husband the King Gwayne that he had sworn his sword and shield, and his life. No wife would he take, no children would he father, yet to the queen he felt his heart go.” 

You listen as Aemond reads from the book. It is just old stories from a time when legend and history mingled into one, a book as well suited to children as it is maesters. But still; between the pages some truth can be found, and flesh and blood and bone can be seen through the myths. And it all sounds so pretty when Aemond reads it. 

Being so close to him does things to you. As if you are doing nothing more than getting more comfortable, you wriggle under the covers and slip your knee between his thighs. He wears only a soft green tunic to bed, one that rides up easily. His voice catches on the words when you shift against his leg,your hand on his chest. “Keep going,” you whisper. 

He clears his throat and does as you ask.

He’s right, of course. You do like to watch. A long time ago he had shown you how he liked to be touched and you had learned quickly. Now, there is little left that you do not know, but you like to see all the same. Not tonight, though. After the display he put on in the yard for much of the afternoon, you want nothing more than to touch, to feel. 

As he weaves the story of knights and queens and longing loves about their silver heads, your touches dip lower. At first, it is just his stomach you run your palm over. Linen is still between your skin, but his muscles tense at the pressure, and you can feel the dips and ridges along them. Each time his voice falters, you stop. It is encouragement enough, then, to keep going. 

“And it was in the gardens of Ser Emmon’s humble country house that Queen Delena gave herself to him. He gave her a rose as a symbol of their love, and pressed it into her hand. The thorns cut her skin, but he kissed the wounds and at his touch, they healed. Then he took her face into his grasp and kissed her cheeks and her lips, and they swore their love to one another.” 

You run the heel of your palm lower on his stomach and press it against the hard pubic bone. He stutters and his eye closes. He grunts your name.

“Yes?” you ask innocently. Your fingers point down, and just a slight twitch of them allows you to stroke the hair there, to trace the base of his cock. It rests against his thigh, half hard. 

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” 

“Yes. Why do you ask?” 

Aemond laughs breathlessly. “Then you’d better stop whilst I can still read.” 

Your fingers form a ‘v’ over the base of his cock and crook slightly to slide along the sides of his balls. “If you stop reading, then I’ll have to stop doing this.” You turn your hand palm-up and glide his cock through your spread fingers. 

A half-laugh comes through his nose. “Alright.” He shifts slightly and the pages rustle on his lap. “It was in that very garden that the queen gave herself entirely to the knight, and in her, he put his bastard child who would one day be called Flowers.” 

You settle comfortably against him again and your forehead rests against his long neck. His thighs spread wider in a silent beg for more, and you smile slightly. There is heat rising in his throat and cheeks and you can feel it against your face. 

How pretty Aemond’s body is. You love how long and lean he is, how easily bruises blossom under his fair skin, how you can see the lines of his veins and tendons in his arms and hands. Such pretty hands. With your forehead against him, you can feel the soft rumble of his voice in your very bones. It makes you shiver, makes your nipples hard. 

When he stumbles over a word, it is satisfying knowing that you made that happen. It’s your gentle hold around his cock that makes him lose focus, your skin against his that makes his stomach tense. Only for a moment do you let him go and although he whines softly through his words, he makes no other protest. You holds your hand up to his mouth and he bites his lip, before licking your palm, your fingers. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, before pushing your hand back under the covers and wrapping it around him again. 

“But the king’s closest companions had already informed him of their suspicions, and Ser Emmon was summoned to the Great Table.” 

A fire burns between your legs. He is hot and heavy in your hand, hard and wide and in his cock, you can feel his heartbeat pulse. His thighs twitch, and you run your foot up and down his calf soothingly. It does not soothe you, though. Every touch makes you want to make him whimper more. Even his voice intoxicates you. 

The pace you set is steady and reliable, and you only pause your ministrations now and again to caress your thumb over his tip. The silver drops that gather there make it smoother to stroke him as you glide it over his length. At your waist, his fingers begin to dig in. 

“And the k-” He bites his lip and sighs hard through his nose. You press your fingers around the base of his cock and move to carefully squeeze his balls. His eye closes, but there is strength in him yet, and after a brief pause, he continues. “And the king at last drew his sword in challenge against his knight, his friend, and demanded honour.” 

You look at the painting on the page in front of them but you don’t really see. It’s impossible to see anything in front of you when Aemond is all around you, his body heaving beneath you, his leg pressing between yours, his hair tickling your face. Utterly consuming is the need to please him, to delight him. You stroke his cock faster now. How lovely he is. How pretty he sounds. Oh, I do so adore him. Every stutter and every stumble is for you. 

“They crossed swords over the Table and- fuck.” 

He turns his head and kisses your forehead, hard. You shiver, and under the blankets you tighten your grip. “They crossed swords over the Table and they fucked?” you ask breathlessly. 

Aemond’s quiet laugh turns into a moan. “No, not that. They, ah- gods!” He forces his eye open but his brow is furrowed in concentration. “And they fought. The king fought for his honour, and the knight f-” he stumbles, breath catching in his throat. “Fou- ah, yes!” 

You bring your knee up between his legs and press it up to where his legs meet. Aemond grinds his hips up and down, his heavy balls sliding against your soft thigh. He turns his head slightly to press his cheek against your forehead. It’s like he can’t get close enough to you, even when you’re lazy like this. 

“They fought?” you encourage.

“Mmph. Yes. They fought. Fuck.” 

“Keep going, and so shall I.” 

“Yes,” he moans. You know he has more self control than this. But there is nothing that makes your soul soar like knowing he can set it aside with you. “The knight fought for his love.” The words are punctuated with heavy gasps that grow more frequent as his breath grows shorter. “The king forbade… he forbade his other knights from in…” He bites his lip at a particularly delicious twist of your wrist. “From interfering. After a long fight, the king disarmed Ser Emmon and his b… his blade… ah, yes. Just like that. His blade was knocked from his hands.” 

“Are you nearly finished?” you ask, making sure your lips are so close to his ear that he will not hear anything else. 

His brow creases again but this time it is in a laugh. “Am I? Or the story?” 

“You,” you breathe, and the word is stretched out. You dart out your tongue to catch along the shell of his ear and when he moans, strained and high, you feel like a queen yourself. 

“So close,” he assures you. 

“Keep going.” 

Nodding frantically, he musters his strength to return to the words. “Ser Emmon fell in front of the king, who… mmph, sweetling. Who demanded that he tell him where the treasonous queen was.” 

She can feel deep within her that he is close. There is something in the way that his whole body tenses, how little beads of sweat gather along his hairline, the twist of bliss in his face, that is so familiar, so exciting. You sit up slightly to get a better view of his face. Yes, that’s better. It’s much easier now to see the little line along his throat that appears when he is tense. There is a thick vein protruding from his forehead now, and it makes you smile. You so love to watch. 

Your hand moves faster, and it is slick with spend and sweat and spit. 

“The knight refused, for he loved the queen more d-dearly than his… his own life. Oh, fuck!” 

His eye closes and it leaves only the sapphire in its socket to wink at you. Fire rages through you at the sight, excitement and adrenaline and love mingled into a potent poison. Let it ruin you, if it means you can have him. 

“Yes, love, don’t stop, I’m-!” 

His face is flecked with starlight when pleasure rips through him. His hands ball into fists and his hips lift off the bed, and he cries out, guttural and low, his voice cracking. You watch, enchanted, and stroke him through it, catching his seed across your hand. Some will have gone on the blanket. Such a waste. 

“Kiss me,” he pleads quietly as he sinks back in the pillows. Below the blanket, his hand finds yours and your fingers weave together and it feels like the centre of the world. 

You smile and keep your eyes open as you kiss him. It is tender now, your lips soft together. Whilst there is still a fire between your legs, it has been tempered for a time. Simply by seeing his release, some part of you has been satisfied. 

Aemond breaks the kiss after a long moment. His eye opens slowly, and he is greeted by your smile. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t need to thank me.” 

“I do,” he whispers, squeezing your hand against his stomach. “I do.” 

Tenderly, you kiss his forehead and stroke his hair back. “You don’t.” 

It is a reflex to lean closer when you kiss him, and within a moment he has leaned so close that you are rolled onto your back with him between your legs now, the book discarded. He pulls at the hem of your yellow sleeping shift, but you stop him. “Wait.” 

His orgasm is still sending waves of bliss through him, and he cocks his head to the side in a silent question. You grin. “The looking glass,” you say in a hushed tone. Close to the door stands a great reflective glass, large enough to see one’s full frame. 

Aemond understands immediately, and scrambles to his feet. Your hands are still clasped and so he pulls you up with him. “Of course. You do so love to watch.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #mine #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*images credited to Kim Kardashian Twitter, and CW photo stills

Anonymous Prompt: “I really want demon dean stalking someone but I don’t know how to do that with consent? But guh just the thought of him.

Characters: Knight of Hell/Demon Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Tags/warnings: 18+ only; this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester; stalking; exhibitionism; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; dirty talk; horny on aisle 3; fuck it, we ball

Words: 2,400

Author’s notes: #Mutual Masturbation for @jacklesversebingo

This did not turn out the way I'd planned, and it's not nearly as dark as I thought it would be. But I still love it! I hope you love it, too.

Thank you @brrose-apothecary @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @runawaydr3amerao3 @bigmouthlass for idea bouncing, and @stusbunker for the proof read and green light.

ENNUI

For some people, the passage of time is beautiful and magical; the smallest things are to be cherished. For others, time passing reinforces our connection with the world, marking each pulse of the rhythm of life. For her, time measures the loss and emptiness of what isn’t or will ever be again. 

Today is a milestone birthday for her. The days leading up to it have been punctuated by discoveries of new lines, bulges, and other undesirable changes to her body that remind her she’s steadily failing.

Since she had just two appointments this morning, she decided to close her office early and hit the pool shared by her HOA. Her neighbors are mostly professionals without children, and it’s Tuesday; she’s sure she’ll have the pool to herself to languish in the wet heat of July in the Midwest.

That annoying fucking saying ‘it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity’, comes for her breath and doesn’t leave. It seeps into the lining of her lungs, heavy and damp, slowing and weighting each step she takes toward the south-facing bank of chairs. Once she reaches the chair she always uses, she drops her canvas tote to the concrete and shrugs out of the sheer wrap before shuffling out of her sandals.

She bends to rifle through her bag for her tanning oil, and a faint chill begins to weave its way up her spine. 

+

Dean is sitting in the front seat of the Impala, swallowing the last bite of his Biggerson’s double bacon and cheese when she snags his attention. She walks with the measured confidence that speaks more of a dare than of enthusiasm. She’s alone, and everything about her vibe tells Dean that she’s more than comfortable with that. 

She doesn’t miss a beat as she makes her way to a randomly chosen lounger in a line of another dozen exactly like it. She lets her bag slip from her grasp, and her robe floats from her straight shoulders to join it at her feet.

She’s small in stature but she looks strong and fit—thick thighs and sculted arms, a narrow waist, and curves upon curves. Dean's never cared much about short, tall, fat, thin; he likes women and sex, and if he hits it off with someone, he’s down to fuck.

But this woman is a work of art.

He watches her dig through her bag, dragging his gaze from her delicate ankles and smooth calves and thighs to the generous curve of her ass. He imagines wrapping arms around her, lifting her to carry her to... bed, most likely.

He chuckles to himself. 

She takes a seat half-upright with her legs outstretched and applies oil to her bronze skin. He wishes he could rub it in for her. He lets himself believe she can read his mind, that she's doing this for him, putting on a show just for him. 

Why not? 

When she unties her bikini top to expose her full, heavy tits and dusky nipples, he doesn’t think twice about popping the button on his jeans and pulling his hot, persistently hard cock from his boxers.

+

As she had hoped, she’s alone at the pool. The small cluster of townhouses where she lives and the complexes on either side are as quiet as any Tuesday afternoon. Other than the birds and squirrels in the trees, she’s got the place to herself.

Well, and the old black Chevy parked at the Biggerson’s next door and the shadowy figure within. She may be cynical, but she’s self-aware, and she’s going to squeeze every drop of pleasure from this bland existence as possible. 

She’s always been an exhibitionist, definitely a thrill-seeker.  She pulls the tie at her neck until the triangles, scarcely covering her breasts, fall away. Then she splashes oil across her collarbones, letting it heat and drip down and around, and between her breasts. 

She flicks her shaded eyes to the car before hefting and massaging the full mounds of flesh, then sighs and nuzzles into her lounger. She bites her bottom lip hard as she pinches and twists her puckered nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

She notices the figure shifting in the driver’s seat. They don’t start the engine or exit the vehicle. Instead, they lift a palm to their mouth and, she imagines, they spit before the hand disappears out of her sight once more.

“Fuck,” she whispers with a smile as she settles her head back against the plush headrest, dragging one hand down her torso and pushing it into her bikini bottoms.

+

That smirk.

Dean looks around the parking lot to find no one else around—it’s as empty as her pool area. He looks back to see that she’s planted her feet on the ground on either side of her chair, her legs spread open, and one hand working rough and slow in her bikini bottoms while the other pulls at her nipples.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart. Do it for me,” Dean mutters, twisting and pumping his cock. 

He grunts and groans as she pulls her hand from her bathing suit and lifts it to her mouth. She raises her head, then, and pushes two fingers between her luscious lips. She sucks and licks her fingers, taking her time, and Dean wishes she wasn’t wearing those mirrored sunglasses. He wants to see her eyes.

Are they blue? Green? Brown?

Is she watching him like he’s watching her?

After what feels like the longest and most uncertain staring contest, she pushes her fingers back between her legs. She doesn’t immediately put her head back, though. This time, she licks her lips and grips the edge of her chair with the hand she isn't using to fuck herself.

“That’s right, good girl, show me how you like it.”

He grips the steering wheel as he pumps himself until her mouth drops open and she starts to tremble. Her gorgeous tits bounce and her hips undulate, and, before he knows it, he’s spurting hot over his fist. 

+

She slams her head back against the headrest, sweating and panting even more than she was from the afternoon sun. She feels gooey and giddy, and light. She opens her eyes and heaves a sigh of satisfaction, pitching forward to look across the pool to Biggerson’s parking lot.

A flash inside the car lights a cigarette, and she catches the first glimmer of the dark stranger. He holds her gaze for a beat, the flame’s reflection dancing in eyes so dark they appear black, before throwing the zippo closed and roaring from the empty lot.

She sighs again as she sits up straight and ties her top back in place before standing, stretching, and striding toward the pool to dive in. The water is cool and calm as she strokes from one end of the pool and back again three times before barrel-rolling to her back to aimlessly float. A light breeze ruffles the leaves overhead, making the sunlight flicker like a strobe. 

After a while, she draws a deep breath before tucking into herself to blissfully sink to the bottom of the muted 4-foot depth.

+

“Sure.” Dean nods and rolls his eyes as Crowley nags him on the other end of the line.  

Crowley gave him a job, which is what brought him to her town, and he really should do it—to calm The Mark and keep the peace with the King of Hell—but he’d rather be knocking on her front door. 

Seeing her yesterday has completely derailed his plans. It’s been years since he felt an instant connection with someone like he feels with her. Separated by the green vining through the black chain link and shade inside his car, he felt her. He wants to feel more. 

“I’ll take care of it, OK?”

He isn’t lying, not really; he’ll take the guy out, just not right now. He’s... preoccupied.

“Now, Dean. Not tomorrow, not next week-”

“Yeah. I know. I’ll get it done. Bye.”

Dean cuts the line and tosses his phone to the passenger seat then looks up just in time to see her exiting her townhome. She’s wearing those stretchy kinds of pants women wear to the gym with heeled boots and a leather jacket. Dean has no idea what the fuck that outfit is all about, but her ass looks incredible. She takes even steps with her head held high. The view from behind her is infuriating. With every stride, her ass plumps and sways, and her wide hips tease him relentlessly.

He fires up the engine and puts the car in Drive before carefully pulling away from the curb to follow her. 

He pictures what she’d look like bent over the hood of the Impala. He imagines yanking those stupid fucking pants down to her knees and kicking her heeled feet wide. She’d moan and arch her back, presenting her perfect, bare ass to him. He’d smack it, and she’d yelp, begging for more. 

She’d beg. And he’d grab a fistful of her shiny black hair to twist and squeeze as he slammed inside her over and over.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing the heel of his palm down onto his ever-present and now throbbing erection.

He watches her toss her hair as she turns into a storefront six blocks from her front door, and Dean slides into another parallel spot and waits.

+

The drugstore door closes behind her, and she’s instantly enveloped by artificially cooled air. One of the many things she despises about midwestern summers is the necessity of air conditioning. She procrastinates turning hers on inside her townhouse every season as long as possible, but when her clients begin to complain, she gives in.  

She doesn’t waste time browsing for anything other than what she came for—eye cream. Yesterday’s existential crisis is a distant memory, surpassed by him. 

She thinks it’s silly that he’s trying to be stealthy, parking a block down the road, like she didn’t see that ridiculous car of his in front of her house before she even opened her door. This game of cat and mouse is fun for her, though. There’s mystery and suspense. It distracts her from the mundane.

She pays for her eye cream and drops it into her handbag before replacing her sunglasses over her eyes. She doesn’t know the rules of this game they’re playing, but she’s never played by anyone’s rules except her own, so it doesn’t really matter.

Back out in the heat, she pauses before heading toward the restaurant to meet a friend for lunch. Sunlight beams off the chrome bumper of his car, making her squint even with her sunglasses on. She shields her eyes and tosses him a smirk, then turns to walk the other direction.

+

She sees him now, and she saw him yesterday.

That fucking smirk of hers is the guarantee he needs. Every step she takes and every move she makes is an invitation, and he has to think long and hard about whether that’s a good thing or not. Because he’s sure that not only does she see that he’s watching her, but that once she sees him up close and personal, she’ll see who he really is.

She’s a kindred spirit. He knows this as well as anyone knows when they find that person, that connection. He doesn’t know what the connection is exactly, but he knows it’s there, and it’s undeniable.

But can she hold her own with him?

He decides to follow her with renewed purpose. 

+

After lunch, she stops at a consignment shop, the florist, and the liquor store. She wanders along the selection of wines, row by row, waiting. She doesn’t have to wait much longer, though.

“Lotta choices, huh?”

The ticking of her heart speeds up from the sound of his thick, masculine voice. It’s only been 24 hours, but she’s been on tenterhooks, willing him to approach her, and it’s finally happening.

Then she turns to face him and gasps.

He’s gorgeous—tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly proportioned, defined, angular jawline, thick eyelashes, and a mouth that has her rapidly dampening her underwear. But it’s his eyes that give her pause. 

Sparkling obsidian. She wasn’t imagining what she witnessed yesterday. Then he blinks to reveal the most exquisite jade. Her skin crackles with anticipation. He’s like no one or thing she’s ever seen before.

She wants to know everything.

“Small talk? After all we’ve been through together?” she murmurs, shifting into him like he’s a black hole that will never let her go. 

She can’t- won’t deny him.

+

He narrows his gaze and slowly tilts his head, studying her face. 

“Honey, we can talk about anything you want.” He scans her bright, whiskey eyes and the straight bridge of her nose leading to the enticing pitch of her top lip. “But I’d rather do something else with my mouth.”

Her eyelids flutter and he chuckles, teasing the backs of his incisors with the tip of his tongue. He reaches for her, tucking one hand under the back of her hair and bringing her the last few inches closer. 

“Like what?” she whispers, and he meets her trembling lips with a firm, insistent kiss. 

“I think you know,” he mutters, turning and pressing her against the selection of Australian whites.

She hums, draping her arms around his neck. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Dean drags her flush against him by her waist and twists his fist in the back of her long, raven hair. And he tells her what she wants to hear.

“I’m gonna taste every inch of you.” He mumbles against her throat and lower. “I’m gonna suck those beautiful tits and bite your tight nipples.” He pushes a knee between her thighs and lifts until his leg meets the hot, damp crotch of her thin, stretchy pants, then scrapes his teeth over the shell of her ear. “And I’m gonna lick and play with your little clit until you're begging me to fuck you. And then I’ll lick you some more.”

She grinds over his thigh. “We gonna do this here?” she breathes. 

Dean huffs a laugh as he steps away, setting her back on her own two feet. He holds her hand and her gaze. “Yeah, I know how much you like an audience. But I want you naked and I don’t wanna share you.”

She swallows and nods. “What’re we waiting for?”

Dean grins and spins toward the door, leading her out into the afternoon sun.

Dean Winchester Masterlist | MJ’s Masterlist

#cw: stalking #demon dean fic #demon dean smut #demon dean x reader #jacklesversebingo23

[sykestarot]

who's watching your social media?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I DO NOT OWN THESE IMAGES

Hi guys sorry for the break last week it was my birthday lol! But this week I felt called to do a who's watching your socials post. Maybe it can give you some insight right before valentines day! Thanks so much for the support and for stopping by :)

Pile 1

“cause when you’re fifteen and someone tells you they love you you’re gonna believe them” (knight of cups; 8 of wands (rx); 3 of cups; 6 of wands; 2 of swords; the world)) Hi pile 1 I hope you guys are doing well!! So for you guys I see for who’s watching your social media is someone either you knew when you were younger or you are young right now. You could either be with them or broken up but I see this being your first love. I’m leaning more towards you guys who aren't talking or havent started talking yet because there is a sense of longing and a lack of communication between you two. This energy is very sweet. This person still carries at the very least a nostalgic love for you and wonders what could have been. For others you guys haven’t even started dating yet but there’s a mutual attraction and curiosity about one another. This pile is filled with youthful energy!! I would also say that the energy that Enchanted by Taylor Swift carries is the same energy you carry about each other. But I do see hesitance in communicating feelings and stolen glances from one another across a room. Maybe you guys have mutual friends and are around each other but never alone? I feel for this pile that this person is a masculine and also quite youthful. I don't feel an age gap so you guys are probably the same grade/age. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t feel like this person notices you and like it’s one sided but I promise they notice you for sure! I see that advice for you guys in this situation is to let the universe bring the blessings to you. Don’t try too hard! What’s meant for you will always find you and trusting the divine is the best and quickest way to receive your blessings. This reading was so sweet and cute. I hope everything works out Pile 1!  Signs: first love; highschool ; beat up car; friday night lights; screen doors; fireflies; innocence; brown hair; green eyes; levi jeans; converse; crisp morning air; dmv?; childhood friends

Pile 2

"can you hear the silence?" (8 of swords (rx); 6 of cups (rx); 5 of swords (rx); 2 of wands; 9 of wands; The Hierophant (rx)) Hi pile 2! I hope you guys are doing well, I’m going to preface this with I don’t think you want to speak to this person. So they’ve taken up stalking your social media. I feel like this person could make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. This could also be someone who you’ve recently cut off or stopped talking to. I see them being obsessed with your life. I’m not getting a specific masculine or feminine energy, but I do feel that this person has lots of envy when it comes to you. Maybe you got a job they wanted or achieved something that they couldn’t. I feel like this person could’ve been someone you considered part of your close circle. I also feel like you didn’t really give them an explanation as to why you stopped talking to them. You just kind of distanced yourself, either for your own safety or for your own peace. This could have also been a person you dated for a short time. If that’s the case I feel like you didn’t date for that long. This person might have worn glasses, I feel like black frames in specific and this person could also be a blonde. I do feel like you had felt some form of betrayal from this person though. I feel like they’re looking at your social media a lot because they want to know what you're up to in terms of who you’re with. Whether it’s a new person you're dating or new friend you’re hanging out with. However I just feel you minding your business so they’re obsession with who you’re with is a little eerie ngl. I do hope you guys are safe and know whether or not to take action against this person because for some I feel this could be a very serious and heavy energy. However for those where it is not so serious I see you genuinely not caring about this person which is so funny because they’re literally so stressed about what you’re up to and who you’re with. Anyways pile 2 I hope you guys are safe and sound and continue to do well for yourselves! Signs: crows; open fields; halloween; fall; october; wheat fields; dilapidated houses?; long distance; orange sunsets; midwestern; muddy boots; cigarettes; tattoos; brick walls?; night life

Pile 3

"I'd like to get know you, I'd like to take you out" (5 of swords; 2 of wands (rx); 9 of wands (rx); The Hierophant; 3 of pentacles (rx); 7 of wands (rx)) Hi pile 3! For you guys I see that there’s someone who watches your social media who wants to ask you out but they’re too shy. I also think that they might think you’re in a relationship? (are you?) But I see them having taken interest in you for a long time. I also feel like they have known you for a while. Maybe you guys are close friends and they think that telling you how they feel might ruin your friendship? I feel like though when someone flirts with you they get jealous and wonder if you would be receptive to them the way you are others. It also reminds me of not allowed by TV girl. I feel like they long to be close to you so much but just can’t find the guts to tell you and maybe even the words. I feel like you don’t event realize the effect you have on this person! I’d say that this person really loves you as a person and so to think about losing you completely would be so upsetting to them. I also see that you probably have had feelings for them as well at some point within this friendship. I think that you two might blame life matters for not getting with each other but if one of you doesn’t confess sooner or later I see that you could miss out on a beautiful relationship. I do feel like there is also the possibility of being childhood or family friends here. This person might have dark curly hair that they like to keep at their shoulders. I feel like they also like to wear flannels or they are cold easily. There’s an innocence to how this person feels but I also think the idea of other people touching you in that way also really makes them upset. Out of all the piles this one is the most fueled with jealousy so I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else feels like they could cut the tension between you two with a knife. Maybe you truly don’t realize or you play oblivious but I promise this person harbors some real feelings for you! Signs: film photos; ballet shoes; tutus; ballet buns; hailey baldwin; clean girl aesthetic; 80’s; pretty in pink; molly ringwald; muscle cars; europe; 555

#spotify #reading tarot #divination #pick a card reading #tarot #channeled message #tarot reading #channeled song #channeling #law of attraction #spiritualgrowth #spiritual #spirituality #spiritual awakening #tarot witch #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot deck #tarot community #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a photo #intuitive #intuition #pick

[amandav09]

Price x Princess Reader

MasterList of COD x Princess Reader

Summary : the treasure of a dragon

Warming : None

Word count : 4K

The young woman was running in one of the great dark corridors of the palace. Her breathing was fast, and she tried, not without difficulty, not to take her feet in her dress.

One of the few doors that would lead her to the exit is right in front of her, a few steps away. And when she reached out to grab her wrist, her fingers came into contact with a soft, soft texture.

Green entered his vision, the mass blocked its way between it and the door, cut off all hope of escape.

«Still lost princess» The wing moved and surrounded him

(Y/N) sighed before attempting to remove the member from her, but this only brought her closer to the owner

«I was closer than last time»

The wing made a sudden movement causing it to fall backwards. But it was received by a muscular arm.

“I agree with you. But you still have a lot to do, little princess.”

She stood up, the half-dragon right in front of her looked at her with a victorious smile.

«Someday I’ll get there» She says with confidence.

«That day it will be because my old bones will have allowed you» The happy face of the dragon made the princess slightly smile

“I’ll have to get out soon then. Just this morning I heard you growling because of your back.”

A little smoke out of Price’s nostrils in a light laugh. He let the princess out of her grip and watched her walk deeper into the old castle.

«You make me run too much, that’s why» he defended himself by walking behind her

He heard a «Pfff» mocking the woman «Who will take care of you when you can no longer?»

«I was counting on you» Renchérie the dragon accelerates the step to be at his side.

The head (Y/N) turned towards him, but instead of seeing a smirk, he was greeted by a sweet expression.

«I would do it with pleasure, my dragon» A shiver ran through Price’s spine, and he felt his only wing quiver with joy.

“Just because you say that doesn’t mean I won’t keep stopping the knights from trying to take you”

The princess froze and disgust permeated her face.

«I beg you do not stop» She clenches her teeth, Price laughs and passes her wing in the back of the princess.

He knew his aversion to knights. They were all men who were unknown to him and who simply wanted to use him as a laying hen and trophy woman

Who wouldn’t brag about defeating the great dragon and taming the wild princess?

He wouldn’t allow that, they spent so much time together, he listened to him spit on his life at his father’s castle before he found himself here, and tell him his stories of adventures as a dragon. He had told him the sensation of flying in the air, the wind and the calm was his home. The princess will always remember the nostalgic look in her eyes.

During their evenings on the terrace of the castle, he had told her how he had lost his wing. This discussion led to other more personal topics, which brought the two together.

"What if we’re going to make pancakes?" Price suggested to remove the sullen look from his face

His eyes light up and the dragon laughs at the rapid change in behavior.

“Great idea!”

While darkness reigned and the princess slept, he allowed himself to do so despite his conscience which told him it was wrong. He entered his room and stood beside his bed. The fireplace fire was still hot and the light reflected slightly on the woman’s sweet, sleepy face. He crouched down and gently touched his cheek with his knuckles. The head of the princess leaned towards the heat, and she gave a sigh of contentment.

"My treasure," he murmured, with a sweet smile on his face. He would drop the sky and the clouds without thinking if it is to be able to stand beside his beautiful princess

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #Price dragon x reader

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Birthday Cake (Malleus Draconia)

There's actually a tradition about birthday cakes back where the Prefect comes from.

Original idea by @strawberry-pie-thoughts

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

On one hand, he’s really happy that he got invited to something, and by the person he loves the most no less. On the other hand, he’s a bit upset that she’s making an event on his birthday and depriving him of a nice outing to look at the gargoyles and celebrate. Sure, she sent him a very cute letter to wish him a good birthday together with the invitation for the event, but other than that, he has not seen her during the day. Not even once.

— (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Malleus spent the entire day stirring a complicated mix of feelings inside his gut.

Lilia enjoyed teasing him for “pouting” far too much.

There’s still a mischievous smile on his mentor’s face as they walk to Ramshackle after classes. Silver looks uncharacteristically watchful—which is something coming from the ever so sharp knight in training—, but there’s no tension on his shoulders, no sign of threat anywhere. Sebek is, for the lack of a better word, jittery, and has barely directed a word to Malleus after he wished him a great birthday in the morning. While being known for not “having any chill”—the Prefect’s words—, today Sebek seems even more agitated than usual.

Malleus isn’t sure what to think about that.

Their odd behavior doesn’t get better as they approach the old dorm’s door, much to his confusion. Ramshackle is widely known for being the most peaceful place in Night Raven College, as it houses the ever so kind Prefect, whose kindness never falters whenever someone needs it. All students know that this is truly neutral ground, and that if they think it wise to defy the magicless student, they’ll be met with the fury of all seven Housewardens.

So how come these two are so nervous?

“Did… something happen?” he asks, finally, tired of their antics and still upset with the lack of his Child of Man on the day that is supposed to be his.

“No, something is about to happen!” Lilia laughs, floating above the ground like a giddy bat. “Go on, open the door!”

Malleus wants to ask, but he figures none will tell him. Not when even Sebek, who’s always tripping in his words to tell Malleus the smallest details of, well, everything, hasn’t said anything yet. Oh, well. If Lilia knows what’s going on, it can’t be too bad.

So he opens the doors.

And steps back, startled.

“SURPRISE!”

Standing there, with a big smile and a bigger glittery “happy birthday, Malleus” plaque, is his beloved Child of Man. She beams at him, shaking the paper a bit before throwing it over her shoulder so she can throw her arms around his torso and hug him tight. Behind her is a large group of people, from all Houses, all wearing party hats and holding confetti poppers.

“... what?”

A quick flash of light brings him back to his senses just in time to see Cater Diamond dive behind Trey Clover in between giggles. Malleus blinks a few times before a soft chuckle leaves his lips, arms finally moving to hug his dear Prefect.

He has heard of surprise parties, and Lilia has thrown a few over the decades he’s been alive, but he has never seen one like this.

“... thank you, this is the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

“Wait until you see the cake!” (Y/N) grins up at him, leaving his embrace—much to his displeasure—only to take his hands in hers. “I worked really hard on it with Trey!”

The inside of the dorm is all decorated in black, white and Diasomnia green, with balloons and ribbons and “happy birthday” banners. There’s a lot of people, including people Malleus can’t believe are here—how in the world did she convince Leona Kingscholar and Idia Shroud to come will be forever beyond him. He allows her to pull him to the table where a beautiful two tier cake sits. The base is a dark gray that reminds him of a castle, and around the top tier is curled a very familiar dragon. On top of it sits a very beautiful gargoyle candle.

“I asked Crewel to enchant the dragon so it won’t go bad,” the Prefect explains as he takes in the cake, standing near his chair.

“I have no words to show how happy I am right now.”

“Ugh, stop your melodrama and get on with it,” that’s definitely Leona Kingscholar, who’s thrown on some couch like a ragdoll.

(Y/N) beams—she actually bounces a little in place—, asking someone to turn off the lights and light the gargoyle candle. Malleus knows this tradition, and claps along as everyone sings the birthday song. Some voices are louder and more enthusiastic than others, but none of them matter when his dear Child of Man is right by his side, allowing him to hear her clearly. Her cheers are the only one he hears when he blows the candle, the air leaving his lungs carrying his wish to become closer to the darling girl.

“Who is the first slice for?” the Prefect asks once the lights go back on, already taking off the candle and the dragon so the cake can be cut.

“The first slice?”

“Where I came from, you give the first slice of your birthday cake to the person you love the most!”

“Then it is yours.”

The best part of this birthday, as Malleus will remember for the rest of his long life, is the heavy blush that covers her cheeks and the blinding smile she offers him as she eats the first slice of his birthday cake.

From now on, all of his birthdays will have cake, so he can keep giving the first slice to his most loved.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #x fem reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #a series of birthday cakes

[cr4yolaas]

— forget me not . kaeya x reader

synopsis . you loved him, and you thought he loved you too. you had to pay for your ignorance. [concept from @/o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok]

warnings . angst !! i use a lot of rhetorical device stuff idk. arguments (kaeya and reader), one-sided relationship, kaeya is manipulative, little bit of gore-type descriptions towards the end, barely proofread, idk if i characterized anyone properly lol

notes . umm i was going thru my google drive for school thingies and ended up finding this from so long ago n i was wondering why it sounded so unfamiliar . realized i nvr posted it 😭

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered.

perhaps, the reason your chest felt so light was because you had placed the heart of clay once encased within your body into caramel hands. your heart, carved and sculpted to perfection by those who sat in celestia, had been put in the care of another.

how foolish.

and yet, you played with the idea. enjoyed it, even. the cotton in your ribcage began to feel familiar, warm, and you loved it. you loved the fuzzy sensation that blossomed when you caught a glance. you loved the grins that were smudged onto your face because of a man who had no cares and all the cares in the world. you adored it. and thus, you craved.

kaeya alberich. a name that rolled off of your tongue so gracefully, dripping off of the edge of your own chapped lips. a name that you called every so often, what with your position in mondstadt’s knights of favonius.

the concept that was once dreadful morphed into something you now deemed funny. you, an aspiring knight, wished only to protect your city. and instead, you had fallen for the man who was to help you reach that goal. stupid, stupid, stupid.

sword clashed against sword, the ring of metal echoing amongst the courtyard. there was no malice nor hatred laced in the slashes, no. there was adrenaline. excitement. energy. you could not say you loathed the one you were battling with, for he was the one that made your chest flutter and your teeth rot. adolescent grins were carved onto each of your faces, euphoria spilling through the cracks in your teeth. a sword clash that was not one of war or death or anger. in this moment, you couldn’t feel stupid. you could only feel ecstatic. joyful, even, as your blade knocked over his, and his eyes widened with both shock and pride.

“i’ve trained you well,” he spoke between heavy breaths. you watched as he walked over to pick up his sword, examining the worn hilt and the scratches painted across the metal. “excellent job.”

a mere hum escaped your lips, cracked and burning, as you lay on the floor. the cold stone was refreshing against your skin.

above you, a singular eye that reeked of crushed blueberries and ocean waves stared down. kaeya let out a gloved hand to assist you, pulling you up from the ground. “you can go home now. rest up. we have work tomorrow.” the words were soft to the ears, and you could’ve sworn the small grin on your face grew thrice.

kaeya sat in his office, waiting for you to bring him his coffee for the morning as usual. however, when you stepped in, you wore an expression of slight uncertainty, playing it off with a nervous smile. “sorry. i didn’t know which drink you wanted, so i got green tea, since i heard from lisa that it’s good to have in the earlier hours of the day.”

the man furrowed his brow at the cup. the green liquid that sat peacefully inside the porcelain seemed mocking, almost. “now, i thought you knew i prefer earl gray? you’ve always been good at keeping these things in that pretty little head of yours.”

“ah, i must’ve forgotten — apologies. i’ll do better next time.” kaeya dismissed the apology, staring down at the drink confusedly. the soft green was a great contrast to the obsidian black he was used to. he chose to ignore it for now, sipping at the drink absentmindedly.

you carried on with the morning, dropping off papers for your captain to finish and greeting the other knights. kaeya did the same, sitting at his desk and scribbling away with his favorite pen. and yet, the interaction continued to linger at the back of his head, itching at his skull endlessly.

odd.

you watched as jean dismissed herself from the building. the eyebags scribed onto her features were prominent, yet familiar. you pitied her for the stress placed atop her shoulders.

the halls of the headquarters were now silent. however, through the wooden door, you could hear the rough scratches of pen against paper, the sound seemingly louder than the hum of air around you.

this had become routine. kaeya would drop you off at your house once he finished his paperwork, wish you farewell, and make his merry way over to the tavern. you found comfort in the way he complained about work on the way back ( despite this, he never thought twice about quitting his job ) and how he would question you about your day right before reaching your doorstep. he held a tone towards you that was akin to honey, to dandelion kisses that you would constantly indulge in. unbeknownst to him ( or maybe he did know, after all ), he had you wrapped around his finger with every glance, every word.

both of you approached the door, your hands reaching for your keys. kaeya prepared to turn around, only for your grip to reach the end of his sleeve.

“...please stay.”

the aloof smirk on his face melted into a softer smile. “anything for you, dearest.” he stepped through the doorway, his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.

kaeya welcomed himself onto your couch, motioning for you to sit beside you. “so,” he muttered. “what’s making you crave my presence?”

“i don’t know.” the response elicited a chuckle out of him. “... ‘m not sure. there’s something comforting and warm about talking to you. i can’t place it.”

your voice was soft, something he relished ever so slightly. he knew exactly what you were saying. it was a shame you didn’t.

and it was a shame he didn’t feel the same.

either way, he chose to succumb to your personal fantasies, feeding into them slowly and tantalizingly. “i may feel the same way.”

for your sake, he told himself.

there was a silence. sickening and dreadful. it gnawed at you, sculpting away at your limbs as you stared at the wall in front of you. “pardon?” your voice reeked of hesitance. his

confession felt ethereal, misplaced. despite the hint of wariness, you followed the hums of the sirens.

“did i not speak clearly enough?”

you gulped, face igniting with flames that even the most violent of ocean waves couldn’t quell. of course, you heard him perfectly. you just couldn’t quite process it. months of pining and obsessing over a man you were supposed to only know as a superior in the knights led up to this very moment spent on the cushions of your couch.

the moonlight that bled through the curtains illuminated his face, however, you still couldn’t place just what was swimming in his eyes. there was no genuineness. but there weren’t any hints of foul play.

and so, you fell into his hands once more.

kaeya seemed to be at his wit’s end lately. and unfortunately, you seemed to be the cause of it.

the crows of the evening invaded your window sill as your supposed lover stood across from you, his brow furrowed intensely as he struck you with his gaze. sharp and cold. the same way he stared at his enemies, those who he despised. maybe, if you waited for the rain to come, for the droplets to wash over the sorrowful earth, it would rid the sour expression on his face. however, rain showers didn’t come in the summer, and instead you would have to deal with the beatings of the sun as it melted the golden melodies you held onto so dearly.

“what do you mean you forgot about it?” venom dripped from his tongue so quickly, slowly forming a stream, a waterfall of white hot anger bleeding through the cracks in his teeth.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“are you, though?”

were you?

it was equally shocking to you. at least, it was once he brought it up. you had promised

to care for kaeya so dearly, and that came with remembering events that were important to him. so why was it that you made other plans today, of all days?

he shifted his stance, transferring his weight to his opposite leg. “he died today. and you forgot,” he took a step towards you. “how dare you?”

there was nothing for you to hold onto as you suffered through kaeya’s wrath, merely

watching as he spiraled into his long forgotten hole of pain and guilt and hatred. what could you do, anyways? he would swat your hand away again. remind you that he didn’t need to rely on you constantly. that he was his own person, and he didn’t need you hovering over him like a mother.

he ran a hand through his hair, the ribbon that held it in the day falling loose. an apology slipped from his lips, watered and broken. before you could reply, he escaped into the depths of night, clicking the front door softly. a rumble grew in your ribcage as guilt crawled up your spine carefully. so, so carefully. you doubt you ever even felt it.

the bedroom door creaked open. yellow rays, soft and gentle, barely there, fell from the crack between the wood and the doorway, and along with them came the man you could barely place. without a word, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving behind no trace. something he did so often, too often.

his arrival caused the book in your lap to fall. you clasped your hands together as you waited. how long were you willing to sit still, to hold for him as he moved as fast or slow as he wanted to?

kaeya slumped onto the bed, his back facing you once more as he propped his elbows on his knees. no words were spoken. the clock ticks and the gentle breezes said everything instead.

just as quickly as he sat, he collapsed into the spot beside you, his legs dangling off of the edge. a singular eye burned into the ceiling, writing scripts that couldn’t be deciphered by even teyvat’s top scholars. a mystery. just as you’d known him to be. just what you’d admired.

the path, eventually, circled back to you, in your mildly bewildered state. scrambled arpeggios flooded the room, the yellow light banished to the hallway as you both basked in the darkness. it was so sickeningly calming. almost as if you hadn’t just pissed him off.

your hands sneaked away from one another, remnants of sweat left on your palms. you didn’t want to look at him. but you did. his eye reeled you in so tenderly. it was far too tempting. and so, you stared, you drunk in every bit of eye contact he spared you, every second spent of silent gazes. you relished in it. and you loved it.

kaeya sighed, lifting himself up from his spot and burying himself beneath the blankets, handing you the wondrous sight of his back for the umpteenth time. vermillion flames of sorrow engulfed your being as you hoped for just a few more seconds, he would give you his face instead.

the bed bore a familiar coldness that the pile of blankets and pillows couldn’t dare rival. sunlit dust filtered in through the window, cascading onto your skin as the sun crawled onto the horizon. this time, the ceiling was barren. empty. the writings kaeya bore into the wood just last night had been erased, gone.

or were they?

perhaps it was your eyes playing tricks on you. your lips parted as you searched through your head for the memory of his gaze, locked onto your own, only to end up with nothing. the image seemed to have slipped from your grasp, sinking through the lines in your fingers.

you needed answers — but unfortunately, work always came first.

the paperwork in front of you was long forgotten, what with the ghouls scratching at your mind and your head resting deep in your hands. your leg shook beneath the desk violently. and at just the right second, a hurried alchemist stepped through the door.

“i’m here to collect a few papers, but,” he spoke, catching his breath — presumably from running from the lab where timaeus and sucrose worked to the knights’ headquarters. “are you alright? you look as if you’re in a state of distress - not from your work.” he held a look of concern that was, surprisingly, genuine.

you cleared your throat, letting your arms rest on your lap. “ah, well... it seems i’ve forgotten about him. pieces of him, i mean. it’s quite frightening.”

albedo closed the door behind him softly to give you both some privacy. “really? how often does this happen?”

“...a little too often,” you spoke, giggling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. however, it was clear that the sound was strained. “i don’t know. he’s slipping from my memory.” the man nodded, lips parting to speak whatever conclusion he came to.

“hm. this is quite a rare case — but existent nonetheless,” he began, leaning against the wall as he started to ramble on. “the name escapes me, but it’s a sickness in which a person who faces one sided love begins to slowly forget about the one they admire. a phenomenon, really. it’ll start off with smaller things such as favorite colors or their birthday, but it quickly evolves into much larger memories like special events or anniversaries. through this process, the victim’s heart begins to deteriorate and rot slowly. as of now, there’s a cure, but no one’s sure if it’s that safe, considering how infrequent this is.” albedo snapped out of his trance of words as he looks back towards you, only to see your lip quivering as dews start spilling from your eyes. “…ah, i didn’t mean to scare you in any way... i’ll take my leave now.” however, before he could open the door, your hand stopped him, grasping desperately onto the end of his sleeve.

“you know how to treat me, don’t you?” he nodded slowly. “please. i could care less about the consequences.”

a hum left his mouth before he left with a single word, “understood.”

if you didn’t continue on with this parade of white hot sorrows, you might as well drown.

the porcelain walls confined you with your thoughts. with your ashen knees bent up to your chest, scrunched up hands buried beneath the water, you’d laugh at just how pitiful you looked. there was a ticking in your skull. it was due to end, to explode if you didn’t get an answer. then again, would there truly be any honest answer? even albedo’s scientific concoctions couldn’t dare get a truthful word out of kaeya in this situation, absolutely not. he was a man of secrets, and frankly, you fell into his trap. the nights replayed in and out on your bed, the book on your lap long forgotten as you stared at your lover’s plastic back. the pages were tainted. stained. all because you were slowly losing memory of his face, constructed of caramel blessings and dulcet poetry. you could not scribble it on paper, nor explain it, nor conjure it up in the confines of your imagination.

perhaps this was a bad dream. a bad dream where his face had been ripped and scratched and marred beyond words. you couldn’t dare face it. couldn’t dare accept it.

and, even through the blemishes of your eyes, you admired him. through the white lines, you adored him, loved him, cherished him.

how stupid.

you had come around full circle. the water in the tub had gone lukewarm from just how long you were sitting and staring, drumming your fingers against the stone of the bath to an unnamed rhythm of disarray. you were not the most religious of people, however, you prayed to whatever god heard you first that he could hear your melancholic symphonies just as well. unfortunately, that much was humanly impossible, for the distance from the house to the tavern was simply too great. he wouldn’t care to listen, wouldn’t tune in to hear a mere note. so you had to deal with your raptures alone. in your tub. as always.

three months had, apparently, been enough time.

however, three months was nothing compared to the five years you spent suffering with kaeya alberich. the cause of your downfall.

you couldn’t remember when it happened, where it happened - but all you knew was that the man who supposedly lived with you loathed you beyond description. there was a fierce stare in his eyes. you oblivious to where it sprouted from, merely observing as he prodded at your bones with a gaze of steel.

eventually, you could barely recognize he was there.

the man in blue had molded his anger into despair. you no longer found yourself victim to his stares, to his stabs. he was looking everywhere but you. and you didn’t know why.

the day you snapped was the day you had been banished from the home completely.

his voice was distant, however, you picked up on tidbits as he explained the situation to albedo, the chief alchemist who worked down in the city. according to him, you had thrown a fit, an unsettleable rage the moment he stepped into the room, purely because you had taken him as a stranger, recognized him as an intruder. the most noticeable part, however, was the look of fear in his eyes. one that contrasted the horrific glares he set you for weeks on end.

and so, as you lay on the wooden table of albedo’s lab, awaiting his arrival, you prayed that the sunkissed man would come too. however, such wishes were those of a fool, a moron, a selfish person. after all, you weren’t sure which sunkissed man you were hoping for, couldn’t place a face to the thought anymore. instead lay a blob of mishapen limbs that haunted your mind as the hours passed. only one man came in, dressed in a lab coat that fit him just right. his presence, sadly, did nothing to soothe your mind.

albedo sat on a chair placed too close and too far to the table. he seemed to be writing so fervently, as if his life depended on it — or rather, yours. with a sigh, he stood up, tightening the gloves that adorned his hands just before standing above you. “are you sure?” he spoke in a gentle tone, one that calmed the crashing waves in your guts and sent the ghouls away.

“yes, of course.”

time was of the essence. the alchemist - although not too experienced in the field of surgery - managed to work around the rot and mold building up inside in a good amount of time, using whatever scientific creations he had at hand. your sleeping form was a rather horrifying sight, for he wasn’t sure if you were still there every few seconds.

soon enough, the gaping hole in your chest had been stitched up neatly, your body dressed up in a plain white gown that albedo had borrowed from sucrose. he slumped onto the floor, not caring for how bad his posture was at the moment. now came the waiting. he would wait for you to awaken, no matter how long that would be, because this was his job - and he was dedicated.

surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that much time until you rose from your spot. he was achingly close to passing out, however, his path to sleep was quickly interrupted as you sat up. “good morning,” you spoke, voice somewhat raspy. you stood up, walking towards the counter to get a drink. “care to explain why i’m in your lab and you’re on the verge of falling asleep?”

“ah... surgery. i’m not sure it’d be very pleasant to hear the cause.” you hummed in response. the soft echo of chatter rang in the hallway, tempting you to step out. “don’t go out yet,” the boy spoke, as if he read your thoughts. “you need to recover for a bit. plus, i don’t think it’d be very fitting to step out in that gown.”

“oops.”

you returned to the table, sitting on the edge and allowing for your bare feet to ghost against the wooden floor. the iron stench of blood was still somewhat present in the air. your blood, you assumed. fortunately, albedo was able to take your mind off of the smell with his ( sleepy ) small talk, reminding you that it wouldn’t be safe to head home just yet considering your state.

it was comforting. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece was missing.

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered once more.

everything seemed to lack its color recently. you couldn’t place it, and it irritated you. however, even while you were stressing over how dull everything was, there was an airiness in your chest that you couldn’t place, couldn’t rip out and inspect. it fluttered so harshly, knotting around your limbs hastily.

perhaps it was because of that sunkissed man who offered to take you under his wing as a knight.

and so the cycle starts again.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fanfic #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya smut #kaeya angst #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #kaeya x y/n #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact fic

[razorblade180]

Jealous Knight Shade

For context, some of yall might remember this story. It’s really old and I just found out a tumblr update completely ruined the format and wouldn’t let me fix the og post. So I had to completely re structure, add, and edit it as a new post.

[Jaune’s Dorm]

Radio:Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s a beautiful sunny day completely with a slight breeze and temperatures in the mid seventies. Perfect for the Vale concert!!! *clicked off*

Jaune:*jean shorts and a muscle shirt* I am sooooo pumped for this concert. The lights, the food, but most importantly….

Blake:*in the bathroom getting ready* The one….the only…….Jaune and

Blake: Casey Lee Williams!!!

Jaune:Gods I can’t wait any longer! Blake, how much longer are you gonna take? We’re gonna end up looking wasted anyways.

Blake:I at least want to start the day off looking somewhat presentable. I never been to a concert before; honestly never expected to go to one.

Jaune:Really? I guess it’s a good thing you met someone who always gets tickets with the best view possible!

Blake:I still can’t believe you’ve met her before! I hope I get the chance to as well.

Jaune:That won’t happen as long as you’re in the bathroom. We still gotta catch the flight! (Actually we’re ahead of schedule, but Yang and Sun don’t need to know I’m hanging with Blake alone. A blonde war is the last thing I need.)

Blake:I’m ready! *walking out* how do I look?

Jaune:It’s about ti-*Blake in a purple crop top and black high waisted ripped shorts. Black ankle high converse and some wristbands*

Blake:*nervous* Well..? I knew it was gonna be a little hot out all day; plus I never get the chance just to dress casual.

Jaune:*red* You look good! Like really good; wait that sounded weird. I mean you know…you……it’s nice.

Blake:*giggles* Thanks. I’m guessing you’re ready?

Jaune:Uhh Yeah! *hands her a water bottle* concerts can get exhausting for her. *puts on a string bag* I got a few other things in here since it’s an all day thing.

Blake:Well isn’t someone prepared?

Jaune:I’m a veteran at these sorts of things.

Blake:Then I guess I’m in your hands then; let’s go. *starts walking away*

Jaune:*watching her walk away* …….. *sips water* I am not ready for today…

[Airship]

Jaune:*leaning forward* If I die right now Blake, tell my ghost about the concert.

Blake:Why would you get Airship tickets if you get air sick?

Jaune:It’s the fastest way. Too much traffic on the road and I’m sure you want to get there as soon as possible.

Blake:You don’t have to go that far for me. *leans in a bit* you look like you’re turning green.

Jaune:You say that and get closer to me?

Blake:*leans back* that could’ve been bad. Last thing I need is vomit on me; especially my hair.

Jaune:About that…*points to her bow* you can take that off since we’re off campus. Honestly I doubt anyone at our school is even gonna show up.

Blake:Yeah but….I just want to have a normal day.

Jaune:You’re more normal with it off to me.

Blake:*red* That’s nice to know. Besides my team you’re the first to say that. Thanks…

Jaune:That’s what friends are for. *leaning back* Phew, I think the worst has passed.

Blake:That’s good… *takes off bow and leans on him* glad you’re feeling normal too.

Jaune:*redish* Yep, things are just…. normal between us. Completely…..normal.

[A long airship ride later]

Jaune:*stretching legs* I’ll never get used to how long this trip is. My legs still feel *Blake runs passed him* asleep…..

Blake:*Looking at the venue* Wow….*it's basically like Coachella*

Blake:There’s so much of it, we'll do everything! It’s almost a little overwhelming. *ears wiggling*

Jaune:*Smiles don’t take it all in at once; you’ll go mad. First things first *pats her stomach* food.

Blake:I had half a mind to claw you just now. *stomach rumbles* but you’re right…

Jaune:Let’s go then, pizza is always a safe bet. *starts walking* I’m pretty sure it’s to our right.

Blake:Uhhh you might want to try left.

Jaune:Huh, really?

Blake:*points to her ears* I can hear essentially everything around here. I here grills to our right, and oven timers to the left.

Jaune:Blake….you’re amazing. Do you know how much of a maze this place can be!?

Blake:It’s no big deal. Still, there’s a lot of people here. I bet there’s a line for food.

Jaune:I can deal with that as long as I know where I am going.*grabs her hand* Let’s go!

Blake:Wait just a- *gets pulled onlookers staring at them*

Blake:Uh, I think people are staring at us.

Jaune:*looking around* I…think you’re right.

Blake:*folds her ears* I thought you said people wouldn’t care about my ears?

Jaune:*pulls out his hoodie and puts it on Blake. It goes down to her hips* Believe me, it’s not your ears. *starts walking behind her.

Blake:? *realization* Ohhhhh *red*

Jaune:Just ignore them and you’ll be fine.

Blake:I’ll try.

Stranger:*whistles* I think this is the first time I cat called a pretty kitty. What do you say about being with a dog?

Blake:Sorry, I’m not a fan of mutts.

Everyone:Ooooooohhhhh!

Stranger:What was that you little-

Jaune:*wraps arm around her waist* Walk away while you can dude. She may be the Faunus but I’m the one who bites.

Blake:*red* (That’s hot; why did it sound so hot!?)

Stranger:…..*stomps off embarrassed*

Jaune:I swear this place is awesome. Some people are just hot heads.

Blake:It’s alright! (He smells nice) Uhh maybe you should keep your arm around me. Just to be safe.

Jaune:Sure *starts walking happily*

Blake:(How did he do that!? Intense one second and happy the next!?)

Jaune:Wanna get some drinks?

Blake:We can’t buy any.

Jaune:*pulls out two fake IDs* I mean....Blake:......Have you always been this much of a rebel?

Jaune:I like to have fun when I can and I want to show you a good time.

Blake:*pondering* You know this is illegal.

Jaune:So is terrorism

Blake:Can’t argue with that; let’s get wasted!

Jaune:Yeah!!!!!*12 hours later*

Blake:*wakes up in a random bed* Ugh my head. Where am I? *sees she’s not wearing a shirt* What did I do!? Who did I do!?

Jaune:*laying on a couch* Look whose awake. *throws her aspirin* btw you slept with no one and this is Casey’s tour RV.

Blake:I met Casey!?

Jaune:You don’t remember?

Blake:.....No!

Jaune:We drank, the show started and we started singing your favorite song…

Blake:From Shadows is underrated.

Jaune:Yes it is. After that some more people started flirting with you and one grabbed your butt. After that I hit him and Casey had her roadies kick him out. She then proceeded to buy everyone drinks....

Blake:God she is a national treasure.

Jaune:After that we got to go back stage where I introduced you two and you turned into a total fangirl. You wanted an autograph but then you passed out and now we’re here.

Blake:That’s it?Jaune......[Last night backstage]

Jaune:*slightly buzzed* Blake, this is my good friend Casey.

Casey:Hello! Nice to meet a fan; also an old friend. *goes to hug Jaune*

Blake:*thoroughly drunk* Excuse me miss Williams! *grabs his arm* But he is taken!

Jaune:Uhhh what?

Casey:*snorts* What?

Blake:This man *hic* right here....is mine! He spent the whole day showing me an absolute great time! *rubs his chest* I intend on repaying the favor tonight.

Jaune:*bright red* You’re drunk Blake....

Blake:Drunk off of your love hehehe *almost falls over*

Jaune:*lifts her over his shoulder* I’m sorry for her. She’s usually super chill.

Casey:I believe it. Maybe I’ll get to meet her with less fireball in her system.

Blake:.....You have a cute butt Jaune. Not as cute as mine but still pretty nice.

Casey:*laughing*

Jaune:Oh boy....do you mind if we crash in your RV? I don’t think she’s quite travel ready.

Casey:No problem, *autographs an album and puts it in his bag* I figure she would want a souvenir.

Jaune:Thanks *turns around and walks away*

Casey:*waves* Bye Blake!Blake:I will fight you for him. You may be amazing but I call dibs! He’s getting laid tonight!

Jaune:You are going to bed!

Casey:*hysterical laughter*

Jaune:*puts Blake on the bed* Sleep!

Blake:Awww but I’m not tired. *takes off her shirt* Maybe you can fix that for me.

Jaune:(Why can’t this happen when we’re sober?) Blake go to sl- *pulled into her arms*

Blake:Come oooooon! I promise it’ll be fun.

Jaune:You’re drunk Blake, that makes it wrong.

Blake:Terrorism and Fake ID’s are wrong.

Jaune:I mean you’re not wr- no! *pulks himself free* Bed, now!

Blake:Fine, we’ll just do it in the morning. *passes out immediately*

Jaune:*flops onto the couch* Sigh, it’s always the quiet ones.

[later]

Jaune:....That’s it. *you got an album by the way.

Blake:Sweet! Thanks for the good time Jaune. Even if it’s a bit hazy *hugs him*

Jaune:Uhhh Blake *red* your shirt.

Blake:Eh, I don’t care. You probably saw them last night.

Jaune:Don’t worry, that’s the only thing I saw.

Blake:Too bad, you could’ve had an amazing night. *whispers in his ear* By the way, Faunus have high alcohol tolerance.

Jaune:*red* Huh!?

Blake:*walking towards the restroom* Well what do you know, this place has its own shower. Can you think of a more perfect way to start a morning?

Jaune:Depends, you remember what you said last night.

Blake:*playfully* Who knows? Maybe you should join me in here and jog my memory Mr. Cute Butt

Jaune:Now that is the best cat calling I’ve heard this entire trip.

#rwby #jaune arc #blake belladonna #rwby knightshade

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Okay, well replaying Skyward Sword reminded me that I wrote this like a year ago buried in a reblog so I'm just gonna air it out and plop it here.

The first time Link had disappeared, it had caused alarm. Zelda had just gone missing, ripped from her loftwing by a treacherous tornado, and suddenly Link was a haggard mess, dressed in a knight’s uniform, and then gone. People feared that he had been hurt too, a search shouldn’t last after sunset; he wasn’t a full knight, after all. However, Headmaster Gaepora had managed to calm the academy students, and the news spread throughout Skyloft.

It took almost a week for Link to return to Skyloft. When people saw his crimson loftwing circling around the town, a collective sigh of relief fell over the sky island. If he’d been gone consistently for so long, then he’d only return when he’d found Zelda, after all. Not to mention it meant they were both safe.

However, that had not been the case. Link had been alone, tired, and filthy. His clothes had tears in them in certain places, he had strange silky threads wrapped around parts of his legs, dry blood stains were disturbingly evident on his tunic, and he practically had bags under the already constantly present bags under his eyes. He had landed just by the goddess statue and had not been seen since. However, another bright light had appeared in the cloud barrier, unnerving the Skyloftians, who chattered about it amongst each other.

The bazaar had been exceptionally busy that day, and the new red light in the sky caused people to gather there to discuss the matter. It meant there were long lines just to get inside, and Link had not seemed keen to stand among the crowds to get the supplies he so desperately needed. Instead, he’d sat on the bench outside, waiting for the townspeople to eventually spread throughout the island once more and give him the space he needed to prepare for his next trip.

The crowds did indeed start to thin, but as people trickled out of the bazaar with hot drinks and hot gossip on their tongues, they paused, finding the boy passed out on the bench. At first it was amusing; Link often fell asleep all over town. But then it was worrisome. He looked haggard. Everyone in town was invested in this boy’s well-being; they’d all welcomed him into their homes at one point or another, the adults all remembered the little orphan wandering the island aimlessly in the days after his father’s unfortunate death, they all remembered bringing him into their homes with promises of warm food and a pillow to lay his head on.

So it had been collectively decided that someone would fetch a pillow from their home and get Link a bit more settled. Wryna brought a blanket as well, but Greba had pointed out worriedly that Link was still a mess (with an emphatic “He stinks!” from Kukiel). Mallara had gotten Commander Eagus, who had promptly swaddled Link in the blanket and carried him to the academy to tend to him.

After that encounter, everyone on Skyloft had decided that they’d keep an extra careful eye out for the boy.

This new pact ended up saving the young knight-in-training’s life. The next time he came back, he had fallen off his loftwing entirely, caught only by Pipit, who had been notified that something was wrong when Orielle noticed the loftwing’s panicked screeches. He’d been unconscious before he fell into his classmate’s strong arms, and even Groose and his stooges had watched in concern as Pipit had rushed Link to the infirmary.

But today was not quite so dire. Link had been missing from Skyloft for two weeks after he’d recovered (his periods of absence continued to grow, much to everyone’s concern), but this morning Jakamar, his wife Wryna, and their daughter Kukiel woke up to a surprise green bundle curled up in their bed. He was on the edge, barely taking any space, but he hogged a majority of that side of the bed’s blanket. At first Jakamar nearly jumped out of his skin until he realized who it had to be, and he pulled the blanket back just enough to see the curved little ears and fluffy dirty blonde hair that everyone on Skyloft knew so well.

Blowing out a sigh, he turned away and held his wife as she peered over his shoulder. “Well, at least we know where he is.”

“He’ll be hungry,” Wryna commented. “I’ll get started on breakfast.”

Jakamar grunted in acknowledgement as his wife crawled to the bottom of the bed to climb over the wooden frame so as to avoid waking Link. Kukiel shot up and started to bounce on the bed in excitement, and Jakamar scooped her into his arms and also climbed out of bed in a similar manner. The house was silent as the family cleaned their faces and prepped for the day (though only because the parents constantly had to remind Kukiel to keep quiet with gentle shushes and fingers over their lips), and then Jakamar took his daughter out for a morning stroll while Wryna busied herself in the kitchen area.

When he got back to the smell of a delicious breakfast, he stretched and smiled, glancing at the bed to find it empty. He looked back to see Wryna’s disappointed face.

“He’s gone!” Kukiel exclaimed in her high voice.

“I didn’t see him step out,” Wryna said guiltily.

Jakamar put a hand on his wife and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, hon. At least he got some sleep. Pack it up in a bottle, if we see him we’ll give it to him.”

Jakamar had the luck to find Link later that day as the boy was meandering around the windmills. Although Jakamar was getting ready to offer the now lukewarm food, Link instead started asking him about the windmill’s missing propeller. Jakamar helped him as best he could, and just as Link rushed off to find Gondo at Jakamar’s suggestion (he figured the robot, though broken, might be able to help), the man called out to him, waving the large bottle with food carefully packed inside.

Link stared at him, confused. Jakamar held out the bottle. “Take it, kid. You look like you’re starving.”

It was a bit of a slip up to admit it to his face. Link often would recoil at such remarks, would cover it up with an embarrassed laugh and then actively avoid whoever said it for a while, which then made it even harder to help him. But it was the truth - he did look gaunt and worn thin. Jakamar was usually a pretty easygoing guy, but this seemed like it was starting to get serious. He wished the headmaster would reel the kid in.

Link’s expression shifted, so easily readable on his face, and his confusion clearly became shame. He looked down at the ground, biting his lip. When Jakamar pushed the bottle into his sight again, he took it wordlessly, but as he locked eyes with the man he gave a grateful smile. Before Jakamar could get a word in, Link turned on his heel and headed for the bazaar.

Jakamar blew out a sigh as he watched the boy run. Hylia look out for him.

#writing #skyward sword #skyward sword link #ss link #skyloft #I like to think they all looked out for him #even if that did give it a bit of a bystander effect #so sometimes he probably didn't actually get the help he needed #but it meant he was familiar with all of them #and that's why he could sleep anywhere without an issue #legend of zelda #laughing at the fact that I told myself I'd take a break from practice questions and that was like THREE HOURS ago #why am I like this ugh #gonna get back to it now

[mirrorthoughts]

How to woo your Jester

@oblivionsdream Soooo... that ask you had finally kicked my muse and before I intimidate myself out of writing or posting again, have that thing I wanted to write the whole time about your adorable Jester and Knight 💕 Because I love those two!

"You've already given me flowers yesterday. You don't need to give me flowers each day?" The knight hesitated at the frown on his Jester's face. Well. Not his Jester. Not yet at least. After all the little book that Sir Pomeroy had lend him was pretty strict about the timeline: First he would bring his beloved flowers each day for a week. Then it would be something more personal, in his case maybe books with stories and jokes? Or maybe more parchment and ink so the Jester could write down his own ideas and tales. He wasn't yet sure enough about this part of the timeline. But the book said to use the daily flowers as a means to get to know your beloved better and at the end of the week and answer - or rather multiple - would surely have presented itself. After that… well, he would see what to do once he reached that day. "Do you not like them?" he asked, suddenly uncertain. Sir Pomeroy had promised him that whoever he was interested in would love his devotion of bringing them flowers daily. He even had asked Sir Green for the flower book he had seen him with, deep in thought as to which flowers to bring first to his lady love. Today he had brought his Jester a bouquet of Edelweiss as a means to praise the Jester's courage and to show his devotion, his interest. His, maybe not love, but not quite far from it either. The Jester stared at him, confused. "They are beautiful, of course I like them! But you don't have to do this. I already like you, too, dear knight." The knight paused in surprised. He had hoped to be right in his assumption that the Jester might like him more than other people he liked to flirt with. He'd sometimes almost felt bad about how often he watched his Jester, jealousy burning in his chest, as he flirted with almost anyone, be it the king, the maids, the guards, foreign guests or even the dogs of the palace. He knew the Jester was an incorrigible flirt, that it was part of his performance, that it just was who he was. And he did his best to be okay with that. Especially since he seemed to be one of the few the Jester sought out on his own accords. Just so they could share a short conversation, a moment as short or long it might be, each day. At least if he hadn't approached the Jester first. This time though, the Jester's usual bravado seemed to fail him as the knight smiled at him in answer, bowing slightly, his hair falling in front of his eyes at the movement. "Then I will bring you more of them, tomorrow, if you like them. Because that is their sole purpose. To brighten your day and make you smile." And blush. He oh so dearly adored to see the blush on the Jester's face as he was seeing it now, when he finally accepted the flowers, looking at them and taking a deep breath. The smile on his Jester's face was definitely worth it to spend the morning in search for the right flowers. "Thank you. Though I'm speaking the truth: You don't need to do this, dear Knight." The Knight smiled. "I am, also, telling you the truth, dear Jester: I want to. It brightens my day to see you smile." The blush on his Jester's face bloomed like the warmth in the Knight's heart. More beautiful than even flowers.

#seikaze #sei's writing #jiggly menace x knight

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 6

Request: Yes or No

For anyone who may get confused, the last timeskip takes place in ep 6 when everyone has now aged up

~~~

Peering at the purple bruise covering his side, (Y/N) ran his finger over it and winced, pain shooting up his spine when he pressed into the skin. The previous night's events replayed in his head: a splendid feast, gleeful dancing, and then chaos. He knew little of Ser Joffery Lonmouth, other than his relatively close friendship with Ser Laenor. He'd heard whispers from gossiping maids about how Ser Joffery had allegedly insulted Ser Criston Cole, resulting in the knight losing his temper. Others rumored Ser Criston Cole seemingly attacked the young man for no real reason. 

"Purple isn't your color." Looking up into the mirror's reflection, he blinked at the princess. Rhaenyra grinned cheekily at him as she approached, tilting her head down to look at the bruise. She hummed softly and reached out, gently placing a cold finger over the darkened skin. Her eyes, however, slipped away from the bruise and instead inspected the bare skin presented to her. 

"How is Ser Laenor?" (Y/N) asked, releasing the crumbled-up shirt and letting it fall over his stomach, efficiently blocking her view. Rhaenyra pulled her hand away and flushed lightly, softly clearing her throat.

"He left for Driftmark this morning. They'll be burying Ser Joffery there, per Ser Laenors' request." Rhaenyra responded, fingers toying with the necklace her uncle had gifted her. "I truly can't imagine what it must feel like to lose a trusted friend so unexpectedly." Smoothing the back of her dress, Rhaenyra lowered herself onto a chair, setting her elbow on the bronze armrest and running her fingers through her hair. "What could've possibly set off Ser Criston?"

"Jealousy, perhaps." (Y/N) murmured, approaching his bed and gazing down at his coat. He reached out, dragging his finger over the green fabric and gold designs, colors that he'd been wearing for years. But after the power display his sister had done the night prior, he thought twice about wearing them with tensions so high and gossip spreading like wildfire.

"What makes you believe it is jealousy?" Rhaenyra questioned, leaning on the armrest to look at him, thin brows furrowed and causing wrinkles to form between them.

"I was told some rather interesting information last night. I suspect, if they are telling the truth, Ser Criston reacted out of intense jealousy that he directed onto the unsuspecting Ser Joffery. If you cannot harm someone, you harm those closest to them and Ser Joffery seemed awfully close to Ser Laenor." The Hightower answered, lifting the coat from the bed and cradling it in his arms for a moment. He heard the wood of the chair scrape against the ground as Rhaenyra stood up from it, turning his head to watch her approach.

"What exactly were you told?" 

"Nothing worth losing sleep over, Nyra. You and Ser Laenor have an agreement, correct? He does not care about your maidenhead being taken by another."

"(Y/N)-"

"Which reminds me," (Y/N) folded the coat into a square, breezing past the stunned princess to put it away and pick out another. "How was your night?"

Swallowing, Rhaenyra rubbed her covered forearm before speaking. "Ser Laenor was too grief-stricken to focus on anything. He promised Lord Corlys he'd be ready after the funeral." She explained as (Y/N) slipped his arms into a maroon-colored coat, adjusting its collar and buttoning the ends of the sleeves. Rhaenyra turned, her long dress whooshing around with her movements and hair slipping over her shoulders. 

"I do not love Ser Criston Cole."

"I know."

"And what happened between us-"

"I do not care, Nyra." Rhaenyra closed her mouth, a confused exhale escaping her. She walked closer to the young man, fingers coiling around each other from nerves. (Y/N) regarded her with an amused look and brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks. Her eyes bore into his, fingers pulling away and instead wrapping around his wrists as she searched his face.

"Why do you not care?" She asked softly.

"Because if you wanted him, you would've gone to him first." 

"I admire your confidence." Rhaenyras' confusion gave way to amusement, a soft giggle slipping past her lips. Her hands left his wrist as she took a step forward and slipped her arms around his neck. Her eyes twinkled with mischieve and she tilted her head, grinning up at him. "I believe we were rudely interrupted last night."

"Were we?"

"Mhm, we were." Rhaenyra leaned forward, brushing her nose against his. His breath fanned her face and she felt their lips brush briefly, excitement pooling in her stomach and sending a flurry of butterflies fluttering around inside her. Closing the distance, she pressed her lips against his, nails scraping against the nape of his neck. (Y/N) dropped his hands to her waist, digging his fingers into the cloth of the dress and pulling her closer. 

"You're married, Rhaenyra." (Y/N) muttered against her lips, feeling her chuckle softly and slip her hands under the coat, shoving it down his arms. 

"Only days ago, you sent me away because you didn't wish to ruin the wedding night for my husband." She breathed, placing a fleeting kiss on his lips. "But, as your future queen, I command you to ruin it."

                    ✶        ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶

Another scream tore from Rhaenyras' throat and (Y/N) grimaced, sharing a glance with Ser Harwin as they stood before her bedchambers. Her pregnancy had been sudden and unexpected yet widely celebrated throughout all the lands. King Viserys had been beyond thrilled, throwing a feast and many tourneys in celebration of his future grandchild despite the fears clouding his daughter's mind. Her mother had suffered greatly, grieving many stillborn children and being betrayed by her own body and husband in the end. The prospect of dying covered in her own blood with a sliced belly sent chills down Rhaenyras' spine, no matter how many times Ser Laenor assured her he'd choose her over the babe if it came to it. 

The labors had begun early in the morning before the sun had even risen and Rhaenyras' crying and screaming had been echoing down the hall for ages. The first babe was always the worst had been Princess Rhaenys words as she entered the bedchambers with her husband in tow. The two, more so Lord Corlys, had demanded to be in the room to witness their grandchild and the future of the kingdoms being born, despite Laenors' protests that they wait elsewhere. (Y/N) didn't have the luxury of being at her side, so he stood outside with Ser Harwin, being forced to listen to Rhaenyras' cries, screams, and curses. 

"You bitch!" (Y/N) snorted softly, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he listened to his lover scream at the midwives attempting to help her. She hadn't relented in her curses, though they were occasionally followed by a strained apology and another agonizing groan. The muffled voices of Laenor and the maesters encouraging her seeped through every few seconds, something (Y/N) wished he could do.

"She's certainly fiery." Harwin chuckled as the clicking of metal hitting the solid ground filled the hallway. Looking down the hall, the two men watched King Viserys and his wife approach with their guards at their heels. Alicents' hand rested upon her swollen belly, her own pregnancy nearing its end as well. The brunette narrowed her eyes at her brother and frowned, taking a glance at her husband.

"What are you doing here, Brother?" She questioned, straightening her shoulders and quirking a brow. "I'm sure Princess Rhaenyra-"

Lifting his hand, King Viserys stopped Alicent mid-sentence and offered her brother a tired smile. "How is she doing?" He asked, sounding rather breathless. His health had been in a steady decline the recent years but nothing would stop him from seeing his daughter and first grandchild. The piercing cry of a babe pulled their attention toward the closed doors and King Viserys quickly entered the room, followed by his wife and (Y/N). Alicent glared back at (Y/N), wordlessly motioning for him to leave the room but he ignored her.

Rhaenyra lied covered in a layer of sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids. Her hair stuck to her wet skin, her chest heaving, and hands tightly clutching the sheets. She lifted her head, exhaling deeply upon seeing (Y/N) and giving him a tired smile as her body relaxed. (Y/N) turned toward Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, throat tightening when he took in the babe in the older man's arms. The babe had been wrapped in dark blue cloth but the mop of unmistakably brown hair had caught his eye first. Apart from the babes' cries, the room had fallen otherwise silent as those present absorbed the situation. The older princess's lips pressed into a line, eyes shifting over to the Hightower.

"A boy, Y-Your Grace." A maester offered King Viserys a meek smile and he cleared his throat, taking the bundle into his arms. Alicent tore her gaze away from the babe and turned to her brother with wide, furious eyes. (Y/N) met her gaze and inhaled through his nose, looking away from them and toward Rhaenyra as Laenor and a midwife helped her into a sitting position. 

"He's perfect." King Viserys whispered, adoringly staring down at his new grandson. The newborn quieted his cries and calmed, tiny fingers grabbing his grandfathers' thumb as soft coos left him. King Viserys smiled, completely taken by the young boy. "What is his name?"

"Perhaps, Joffery?" Laenor attempted.

"No." Lord Corlys finally spoke, eyes remaining on the newborn. "He should be given a name fit for a king." His wifes' gaze snapped toward him and her brow quirked but she remained silent. Nobody dared to make a comment about the newborns' rather obvious lack of Targaryen features, though the glances shared around the room said enough. Velaryon blood did not run through the newborn's veins.

"His name will be Jacaerys Velaryon," Rhaenyra announced and the older men nodded their approval. The name brought a wide smile to King Viserys face and he approached Rhaenyra, handing the bundle off to her and affectionately stroking the back of her head. Rhaenyra lied back on the pillows, finally looking down at her son. 

"You did well." King Viserys praised, leaning back and smiling warmly at his growing family. Lord Corlys inhaled and looked at his king, clasping his hands together behind his back and lifting his brows.

"May we speak privately, Your Grace?"

"Yes, of course." King Viserys sighed, glancing at his daughter before he followed Lord Coryls and Princess Rhaenys out of the room. Alicent lingered, teeth nipping at the skin of her lips and nails digging into the skin of her palm. She whirled around, sighing heavily as she exited the room with the midwives and maesters following to give Rhaenyra some space. 

"How furious is your father?" (Y/N) asked Laenor, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, being careful to avoid the bloody sheets. Laenor brought a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it, shrugging his shoulders and giving him an apologetic look. 

"Not furious enough to accuse you outright." He replied and Rhaenyra hummed softly, lifting the bundle toward her face and pressing a soft kiss to Jacaerys forehead. 

"Regardless of parentage..." Rhaenyra began, looking at the two men. "Both of you are his father." She smiled fondly, gently bouncing the newborn to keep him from breaking out into sobs again. She leaned forward and winced, shakily exhaling before she offered the bundle to (Y/N). The Hightower tensed but hesitantly took the baby from her, pressing the bundle to his chest. Jacaerys opened his eyes and (Y/N) half-expected him to break out into sobs but the baby instead stuck his fingers in his mouth and stared up at him curiously. Big brown eyes. Just like Alicent and their mother. Their father would surely curse him when news reached Oldtown. Another reason for his family to distance themselves from him. 

"He's a Velaryon and a Targaryen, even if he has Hightower blood. My family would never accept him as one of their own." (Y/N) murmured, watching Jacaerys eyes flutter shut, tiny chest rising and falling steadily. A stain on the family, even with royal blood. A bastard the religious Hightowers would despise. 

"Come now, little one." Laenor smiled and took the baby into his arms, cooing softly. (Y/N) stood up, looking back at Rhaenyra. The princess had already fallen asleep despite her uncomfortable condition. She deserved a warm bath and clean clothes.

"I'll fetch a maid to clean the sheets and get Nyra dressed in something that isn't covered in so much fluid." (Y/N) glanced at his son one last time, running his finger over the hair on his head. Turning, he walked toward the doors and opened them, pausing when he noticed a servant about to knock. 

"Queen Alicent requests your presence in her room, Lord (Y/N)." The servant announced, straightening up.

"Could you fetch some maids for the Princess? She's in need of some care." (Y/N) watched the servant nod and bow his head before he headed off down the hall to fulfill his request. Harwin pushed himself off the wall and tilted his head, arms crossing as he took in the lord.

"How's the babe? Lord Corlys appeared rather-"

"He doesn't look Targaryen." (Y/N) interrupted Harwin quietly. The knight took a moment to soak in his words, eyes slowly widening and stance going rigid. His jaw went slack and he leaned forward in shock. "He looks like a Hightower and the Velaryons know it." 

"But-"

"We'll speak later. If I don't show, Alicent will come looking for me herself." Harwin swallowed and nodded, looking back toward the closed doors. (Y/N) turned and headed down the hall, the surprise of it all beginning to chip away. A healthy boy with Hightower features. A boy who would eventually be called King Jacaerys. His son. (Y/N) marched on despite a wave of lightheadedness washing over him as the realization settled. He had a son. A son he couldn't parent for the sake of keeping the peace between the families. 

"Your Grace." (Y/N) called as he entered his sisters' bedchambers and Alicent ripped herself away from the window, dismissing her servants with a steely look and wave of her hand. The maids quickly left the room, sparing glances at each other and whispering. When the sound of the door closing echoed in the room, she addressed her brother with a seething glare.

"A bastard, (Y/N). You've sired a bastard with a princess."

"I assume you've already sent word to Father?"

"Of course!" Alicent hissed, walking forward, only stopping to place a hand on her belly. She winced and grasped the top of a chair, carefully lowering down and taking a seat. She inhaled deeply and brushed away brown strands from her face. "This isn't how I envisioned you becoming a father. That child is pure Hightower. He should've been Velaryon."

"Laenor is his father, Alicent. He has his name and will use it until he sits the throne as a Targaryen."

"You and I both know Laenor had no part in his creation. He has the same hair and eyes as our brothers. Even if the Velaryons accept him and claim he is a pure Velaryon, he is yours and soon everyone in court will know it unless..." Alicent trailed off, lips parting as she sank deep into thought. "Unless he is believed to have been sired by someone else."

"Alicent-"

"Ser Harwin Strong." Alicent breathed, head snapping up. "He and Rhaenyra have gotten close over the years. The boy could pass off as his."

"He is my friend." (Y/N) sneered.

"And if anyone questions who the father of that boy is, he will take the fall for your mistake. His father is the trusted Hand to the King, he will be fine. You are my brother, (Y/N). You told me you spent your life protecting me, now it is my turn to protect you."

                    ✶        ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶

"Have you heard anything about the Princess?" (Y/N) asked the servant hurrying past him. The maid parted her lips but nothing came out, gaze drifting past him and down the stairs. The Hightower turned, a soft scoff of disbelief leaving him as he watched his lover struggle up the stairs with a new red bundle in her arms. Laenor held her arm, keeping her upright and quietly speaking to her.

"Rhaenyra!" He scolded, heading down the stairs and meeting them in the middle. Laenor gave him an exasperated look, showing his innocence in the princess's determination to walk up a flight of stairs after just having given birth. Targaryens were notably stubborn individuals and Rhaenyra proved it every day.

Rhaenyra released a shaky breath, blowing a strand of silver hair out of her face. "You can blame your sister for this." She winced, holding the bundle with trembling hands. "She ordered he be brought to her immediately."

"He?"

"Another boy," Laenor confirmed with a wide smile. One would mistake it for pride but in truth, it was happiness for his dearest friends, even if the boys saw him as their father instead of (Y/N). "I suppose it's true what they say about Hightowers only having boys." His voice dropped to a playful whisper and (Y/N) chuckled, taking Rhaenyras' other side and gently taking her arm. 

"A curse, truly." He replied softly, gazing upon his third son. Jace and Lucerys, or Luke for short, would be thrilled with the news of a new brother. Corlys hadn't been in the room during Luke's birth but he'd been first to enter, perhaps searching for a crown of silver but he'd only been greeted by wavy hair similar to Alicents'. It seemed he'd given up hope with their newest child as he'd kept to Driftmark. Both boys had been raised with Laenor as their sole father and a mixture of rumors of who had actually sired them. Alicents' rumors of Ser Harwin being the father had many believers, including (Y/N)s' own nephews and niece. But there were those who believed the boys to be Hightowers. the Velaryons amongst those believers. The only one who refused to entertain the rumors had been the boy's own grandfather, King Viserys. 

"I can speak with her-"

"You and Alicent only ever argue." Rhaenyra breathed, wincing again and groaning softly. "And we've gone too far to turn around now." She added, stopping briefly to catch her breath. Laenor sighed heavily and reached down, bunching up some of her dress and lifting it slightly so she'd be able to walk better. Rhaenyra gulped down some air and pushed forward, climbing up the last set of stairs and heaving in relief when they reached the top. They continued down the hall, stopping before Ser Criston Cole. He bowed his head and pushed open the door to Alicents' room, watching them enter. Alicent stood by her window as a maid worked on her dress. Maids walked about the room, cleaning and putting away things. The maid at his sister's feet stood and curtsied, pulling Alicents' attention away from the window and toward the three.

"Rhaenyra," She breathed, eyes wide. "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra responded, wobbling slightly. Alicent took notice, eyeing her exhausted figure and sighing softly.

"You must sit. Teyla fetch a cushion for the Princess." 

"There's no need."

"Nonsense." Alicent brushed her off, nodding to Teyla as the redhead placed a cushion down for Rhaenyra to sit on. Despite her previous protest, Rhaenyra gladly took a seat, shoulders lowering in relief. Alicent stepped off the stool and approached them, attempting to get a peek at the child in her arms. 

"What happy news this morning." King Viserys called as he entered, hair disheveled and pace slow. (Y/N) bowed his head and moved to stand behind the seat, looking down at Rhaenyra and the babe. Laenor smiled at the King and nodded, gingerly picking up the newborn when King Viserys asked for him. Taking his newest grandson into his arms, he smiled widely.

"A fine prince." He whispered, love and adoration written all over his features. His glee even brought a small smile to Alicents' face. "You will make a fearsome knight. Yes, you will." King Viserys cooed, chuckling softly when the baby made noises in turn.

"Does the babe have a name yet?" Alicent inquired, turning back to Rhaenyra and Laenor.

"Oh, we haven't-"

"Joffrey." Laenor interrupted. Rhaenyra blinked at him, pressing her lips together and furrowing her brows. "He will be called Joffrey."

"An unusual name for a Velaryon," Alicent muttered, looking at her brother with a disapproving frown. (Y/N) pursed his lips and looked away from her, head shaking slightly. 

"I do believe he has his father's nose." King Viserys smiled and Laenor forced an awkward chuckle, nodding in agreement. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek and reached down to graze his fingers against Rhaenyras' shoulder. The princess hummed in contentment, eyes closing for a brief moment. She almost nodded off, only opening her eyes when Joffrey cooed.

Clearing his throat, Laenor looked at her father. "If you don't mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest."

"Of course." King Viserys nodded, allowing Alicent to step in and take a closer look at the child. She smiled sweetly, taking Joffrey into her arms and walking toward the door. Rhaenyra nervously watched her, rising from the baby blue couch as King Viserys took her hand. (Y/N) parted from her side to approach his sister and son, watching her hand him off to Laenor. He knew his sister would never hurt a babe, much less one she knew was her nephew. Alicent didn't have that type of hatred within her. But (Y/N) couldn't help the uneasiness that swelled in his chest.

"Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Soon or late, you may get one that looks like you." Alicent whispered, offering him a smile before she stepped away and walked toward her husband. Rhaenyra joined them, walking awkwardly as she exited the room, keeping a hand pressed to her belly. 

"You don't think to consult me before you name my child?" Rhaenyra questioned. 

"He's our child, is he not?" Laenor frowned, gently bouncing the baby in his arms when he fussed. Rhaenyra glanced at him, pure exhaustion on her face.

"Only one of us is bleeding."

"Joffery is a fine name, Nyra." (Y/N) muttered, raising his brows at her when she looked at him in disbelief. "Certainly not a name I'd choose but a fine name nevertheless." Pursing her lips, Rhaenyra stared at him a moment longer before looking away, letting the topic go with her lover's input in mind. Laenor gave his friend a thankful look and the three made their way to the boys' room. Rhaenyra entered first, greeting her sons with a wide smile. The boys stood up and detached themselves from Harwin's side, excitedly showing their mother the egg they picked for their new sibling. (Y/N) chuckled, running his fingers through Luke's dark hair as Harwin helped Rhaenyra sit. 

"A good choice." (Y/N) praised his boys and they smiled widely, looking back down at the egg.

"Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit. I thought it best to escort the lads." Harwin explained, studying the boys. (Y/N) moved away from them, approaching Harwin and giving him a small smile. Harwin returned it, lifting his hand to touch his chin and stroking it with his thumb. 

"Another boy, I heard?" (Y/N) nodded, resting a hand on Harwins' side and giving it an affectionate squeeze before he faced Laenor. The Velaryon bounced the little one, cooing softly as he stepped closer to (Y/N), carefully passing him off so (Y/N) could hold him. (Y/N) hummed softly, feeling Harwin loom over him to look down at the prince. Joffrey slept soundly, even as his brothers attempted to get a look at him before Laenor pulled them away and out the door.

"Laenor named him Joffrey." (Y/N) told Harwin, feeling the knight slip his strong arms under the bundle and take him. (Y/N) smiled softly at Harwins' tenderness and took a seat beside Rhaenyra, letting the princess melt against his side and rest her head against his chest.

"Asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch." Harwin tsked playfully, staring down at the boy. "Terrible lack of respect." 

"I'm afraid he gets it from us," Rhaenyra muttered tiredly, eyes threatening to close. (Y/N) slithered his arm around her shoulders and gently played with her tousled hair, slowly lulling the princess to sleep. Her breathing slowed, soft snores eventually escaping her as she fell limp against him. (Y/N) chuckled softly, looking back at Harwin.

"Terrible lack of respect." He repeated playfully and Harwin shook his head, continuing to gently bounce Joffrey in his arms. They remained in blissful silence for a little while longer until (Y/N) stood, slipping his arms under Rhaenyras' knees and scooping her up into his arms. He brought her to the bed, laying her down and pulling a blanket over her shoulders. Pecking her temple, he rubbed her shoulder and stepped away to approach Harwin and Joffery. 

"I'll fetch a wet nurse soon since it seems the Princess is rather occupied," Harwin said, glancing up at the sleeping Targaryen with a small smirk. (Y/N) nodded, reaching up to stroke the head of his youngest son.

"Jace and Luke will be riders soon. I have no doubts this little one will become one as well." (Y/N) muttered, turning his head to look at the pot holding the dragon egg. "It worries me."

"They're Targaryens, (Y/N). It's in their nature to ride dragons." Harwin reminded softly, taking Joffrey to his crib and setting him down, allowing the baby to rest properly. (Y/N) sighed, rubbing the side of his neck and nodding but his words did little to ease his anxieties. He hadn't expected fatherhood to be sprung on him so suddenly and now, he had sired three boys who were destined to take to the skies on dragons.

Noticing the look on his face, Harwin gave a small smile and approached him, gently taking his face into his hands. "They've got the blood of kings in their veins. They were made to ride dragons and conquer kingdoms. Your boys will be knights, leaders, and kings. Just like their ancestors."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #house of the dragon x y/n #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd x male!reader #hotd #hotd x reader #princess rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x male reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x you #alicent hightower x y/n #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon

[peachesyeo]

obsession ── sumin stalker

💌 parings: coworker!sumin x gn!reader 💌 genre: yandere, oneshot. 💌 contains: mentions of stalking 💌 word count: 0.3k words.

:̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

"Hey, are you alright? You look unwell." Choi Sumin questioned. You smiled weakly at your coworker, or your crush. "I'm fine..."

Sumin was a tall man with dirty green hair, multiple piercings, and a loud, extroverted personality that allowed him to be one of the cafe's most popular workers. You, too, had also fallen for him after just one week of working with him.

"You don't look fine, though." He replied, frowning. The both of you are on the closing shift, and Sumin had stopped cleaning the equipments in his hands, his attention on you. "What's troubling you?"

You sighed. You didn't want to tell anyone about this, especially your crush. You thought that it was just your paranoia, but lately your insomnia has gotten worst because of this. "I think... I might have a stalker."

"What?" Sumin's voice was loud. He dropped his rag, eyes wide. You put down the rag you were using to clean the table-top, sighing.

"Well... I keep having the feeling of somebody following me home... And someone slipped a letter to me in the morning..." You shivered, remembering the details on the letter. "Saying something like loving me..."

Sumin frowned. "That's not good. Do you want me to accompany you home today?" He offered as your heart skipped a beat. You were about to tell him it's okay, but Sumin seemed to have predicted your rejection as he added. "No, I insist. This is dangerous, I'll walk you home tonight."

You smiled gratefully at him. "thank you, Sumin."

Sumin shrugged. "Hey, that's the least i can do for you, you know." He continued to wipe the equipments. "You're my coworker and friend, after all."

From that day on, Sumin would walk you home from your night shifts. The both of you would make small talk as you made your way home, and whenever Sumin is around, the feeling of being watched or followed disappears. You couldn't help but feel that Sumin is your knight in shining armour.

Soon, a blushing Sumin asked you out. You said yes, not even hesitating.

Sumin had you in his arms, his chin on top of your head. His eyes darkened as he wrapped his arms around you tighter. 

I hope you will never find out the truth, my love.

➳ pernament taglist: @wonwooz1 @kwanienies @yeodeulz

#xikers #xikers fanfic #xikers oneshot #yandere xikers #xikers x reader #sumin #choi sumin #yandere sumin #xikers sumin #sumin x reader #☁️by k #xikers imagines #xikers drabbles #kpop #yandere kpop

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 1: "Sometimes you shouldn't just keep your head down"

Event Masterlist | Next>>

On a night in Legend's era, safe within the boundaries of an unnamed town, the veteran finds himself unstable but unable to sleep. He intended to just sleep off the concussion at best, or take a potion the next morning when they restocked on them at worse. He probably shouldn't have gone outside where he was easily seen while not at his best and without basically any of his items.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 1: Helpless

Read on AO3

Warnings: torture

Legend had decided back on his first quest that he hated concussions. Over ten years later and on his... variably numbered quest (it could be the seventh if he combined the Oracles into a single one, it could be the sixth if he ignored Koholint too, or it could be the ninth if he individualized and counted every single vaguely adventure-like thing that happened), he still hated concussions.

Nonetheless, he powered through. It was a mild one anyways, he would be fine by morning probably, and if he wasn't then he'd buy an extra potion to drink.

They just arrived at a town in Legend's own era and kingdom, it was late and they had already decided to get supplies the next day after a good night's sleep in the inn. Legend didn't go to sleep though, despite the rather mild--he wasn't even nauseous really--concussion, he slipped out of the inn and found himself sitting out on a bench outside, watching the innkeepers wife's--Leanne's, he had visited the town before-- garden of flowers sway in the wind.

"Hey," someone sneered, "what's a brat like you doing out this late?"

He was literally an adult, but before he raised his head he saw armored boots.

A knight.

"Just getting some fresh air," he said, keeping his head down. "I don’t mean to bother."

Please don’t--

The boot swung up and he had plenty of time to dodge it, except he was trying not to be recognized so he took it. The steel boot hit his forehead and he let himself gasp, dropping his head lower.

"Look at me when I speak to you, brat!" They spat.

Legend grit his teeth, not responding in favor of keeping his head down. Maybe he should've dodged and just ran, that kick made his concussion much, much worse if only briefly. He couldn't think and suddenly, that nausea that hadn't been so bad, was very bad.

Instincts kicked in when the guard went in for another kick. Legend avoided it and quickly stood.

"You'll learn some resp--" the guard visibly recognized him when Legend met his eyes, forcing back the dizziness.

"You could've just walked away," Legend said coldly. "You just had to pick a fight with someone who you thought was a kid."

"You! Criminal!"

The outraged cry drew the attention of a nearby patrol of guards. Legend cursed, especially the fact that he'd left most of his items inside the inn. Four guards converged toward him, yelling and waking up the townsfolk while Legend bolted.

He didn't want nor should kill them, they needed a reality check sure, but death wasn't the answer here and he only had his medallions as an offense. No regular person would survive them, so instead Legend just ran.

To everyone's surprise, when he swerved into an alleyway unhindered, a patrol of guards were on the other side and startled when the patrol chasing him roared behind him. They quickly blocked off his escape, and with his head spinning, stomach lurching, and eyes refusing to focus--

A shield was slammed into his face and he was out cold.

Legend woke up in a painful daze, his whole body was sore, arms especially so, wrists in genuine pain and not just sore. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, yet simultaneously it felt empty with how his brain seemed to rattle in his skull. His magic was practically gone--

His magic was gone. He didn't feel the familiar weight of his medallions and pendants. He wasn't even wearing all his clothes! His red mail was gone, and his boots, leaving him just in his dark green under-tunic. His cap was gone as well and his hair was loose.

After assessing his own condition, Legend drew in enough focus despite the physical pain and magical exhaustion, and he tried to determine his situation.

He was in a cell, water audibly dripping down from the ceiling and down the walls. The ground was damp if anything. Stone lined the walls and floor, mortar on the walls but dirt in the floor. He was chained to the wall opposite of the (probably) iron cell door, the cuffs around his wrists had runes etched into it... the source of his magical exhaustion no doubt.

Metal clinked as he tugged the cuffs around his wrists, he didn't have a single inch of give, being cuffed directly to the wall itself. His magic was cut off, and his head spinning and throbbing and requiring far too much concentration to focus, Legend took far too long to come to a conclusion about his situation.

He had been captured, by knights no less, and he was completely trapped. He had no items, he'd never had the strength to even escape, and his magic had been drained before he could even try the... two things he'd been able to do in extremely extenuating circumstances to escape.

The cell door slammed open, Legend glared daggers at the knight who entered.

"Link, seems we finally caught you," they said, scowling and approaching him.

"I wa'--I was par-pardoned years ago," Legend snapped, his words attempting to slur, leading him to repeat himself clearly. "You have-- You have... no grounds for this arrest."

The knight drew closer. "Just because you tricked the queen doesn't mean you’re innocent. You'll pay for kidnapping her, and for the murder of dozens of good soldiers, especially Sergeant Alphon."

He snapped. He swung his leg up and nailed them in the face. Despite the height they had on him, his legs were just long enough and he was flexible enough to kick them.

"Get his name out of your mouth you bastard!" Legend fought against his chains, ignoring the pain and fuzziness. How dare this knight try and use his uncle against him?! How dare he?!

"Oh, you'll pay for that."

The knight punched his face, the back of his skull slammed against the iron panel behind him, a loud clang echoing through the room simultaneously followed by a hissed curse. His skull reverberated, pain exploding and seizing. A stabbing pain tore through his mind.

A second punch to his lower ribs had his legs giving out and his stomach to empty itself on the ground.

"Not so high and mighty now," the knight sneered. "You'll die in this cell, hero. Nice and slow, another day, another hour, another pain for all the men you killed."

Legend inhaled shakily, lips wet as he raised his head to glare.

"Do your worst," he growled. "I've survived worse."

He survived death itself, and returned with new items, new artifacts, new memories. He survived Ganon four times over, a lightning strike to the head, the near-death of his ancestor borderline erasing him from history.

Even if Legend did die here, it was the first... second time he could trust that someone else would finish the job. The other heroes would finish this quest and he didn't need to worry. He could die without regrets.

Turns out, dying slowly with a glimmer of hope to escape is far worse than being struck by lightning and drowning in a storm on the ocean.

The other heroes should've been able to find him, he'd gone with Twilight, or Wolfie, to track down the Traveler and Champion dozens of times, never through towns though. Yet they hadn't and Legend had determined not to rely on anyone, even the other heroes.

Though... it was hard not to cling to the hope of hearing blades clashing, or even just the creak of the door as one of them sneaks in. Not as his body refused to do the most simple of things, not while he could barely lift his head, not while he felt the cuffs that drained his magic very slowly chip away at his soul, eliminating any replenishment of his magic before it even formed. It was hard not to cling to any glimmer of hope of someone else saving him for once when his skin was torn, cut open, and his blood soaked the floors more than the water that dripped from above did. He told himself that he had to save himself, just like every other time he'd been pushed to the brink. He had a job to do and even if the other heroes could do it themselves, it was still his job to at least help. Yet as he hung from bleeding wrists, legs not strong enough to support him, he knew that even if he wasn't chained up, even if the cell door was wide open, he wasn't going to be able to walk out.

When the knights returned, jeering and joking with one another with the familiarity of brothers, Link drew in another breath.

He wasn't escaping. He survived death once, thanks to an ocean deity, but he was certain that he wasn't going to escape its hold a second time. Not as the knights pulled out something new--every day, it had been something new, or maybe every hour, he wasn't sure how long it had been--and discussed who got to use it first.

It was a flail, a handle of leather likely around wood but maybe steel, and multiple long ropes of frayed leather.

Link--Legend(they were still there, he wasn't alone again, the quest was still ongoing even if he died here) didn't have the energy to cry out as the cat o' nine tails was whipped across his face, tearing his lip, the bridge of his nose, his brow and cheek, his eyes sealed shut from the pain. He did flinch, he did whimper and gasp, but nothing more.

He didn't have the strength for more. Frayed leather struck across his chest, catching his collarbone and cutting a scabbed wound open. His throat was raw, had been for a while now with stomach acid burning the irritation of his screams. Even as he tried to scream, nothing more than a wheeze fell from bloodied lips.

He hoped they wouldn't be too upset with him leaving them to finish the fight. He almost wanted to laugh, it was a bit ironic... Of course he, the helpless bunny, would be killed in captivity. He, the veteran, would die on an adventure. He, the collector, would be left item-less at the end, after all you can't take anything to the afterlife.

It was ironic, because the adventuring veteran who collected items from across four countries, three worlds, and had killed Ganon four times... was still just a helpless bunny who couldn't defend himself when it mattered.

Soon enough, as his vision faded out, Legend fell.

Though with his magical stores empty and his soul having just been drained... he didn't even notice that his fall had been in the physical sense. Cuffs didn't matter when the goddess herself took matters into her own hands to displace her hero through time.

Next>>

#febuwhump 2024 #linked universe #lu legend #everyone else will show up in later chapters but they aren't featured here #legend linked universe #linked universe fanfic #whump #angst #torture #graphic violence #legend lu #ao3 fanfic #prosie writes #a thousand ways au

[unholyverse]

waterparks // rock sound 25 icon issue

(full text under cut)

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

WATERPARKS

WATERPARKS HAVE NEVER BEEN A BAND THAT ARE HAPPY TO SIT AROUND AND WAIT FOR SOMETHING TO HAPPEN, RELEASING FIVE STUDIO ALBUMS IN THE LAST SEVEN YEARS WHILE CONTINUING TO GROW THEIR INCREASINGLY AMBITIOUS LIVE SHOWS. AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD, FRONTMAN AWSTEN KNIGHT TALKS US THROUGH THE BEGINNINGS OF THE BAND IN HOUSTON, TEXAS AND WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THE TRIO.

WORDS: JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR PHOTOS: JAWN ROCHA

"NO MATTER WHAT, ALL THOSE ALL THOSE BANDS LIKE GOOD CHARLOTTE, GREEN DAY AND BLINK, THEY'RE STILL GOING TO BE IN THE BONES AND FOUNDATION OF WHAT WE'RE DOING."

Let's start at the beginning - what are your earliest musical memories?

Alright, so you can start the article with this - as I crawled out of my mother, my dad made sure the first song I ever heard was 'Wouldn't It Be Nice? by The Beach Boys. The other day somebody asked me what would be the last song I wanted to hear if I knew I was gonna die. I mean, I have death songs, don't get me wrong. I've got songs that I would choose to die to, some Death Cab and Motion City Soundtrack. But I think because I love bookends and I love like tying things together. I would have to listen to 'Wouldn't It Be Nice?'.

He took you to a lot of The Beach Boys shows when you were growing up too right?

I do remember those. It would always be on the Fourth of July. How were they always in Houston? He'd also be listening to stuff like Van Halen. My mom really liked Prince. My dad didn't like my mom's music; she liked Cat Stevens and Bob Dylan. But I remember watching TV getting dressed in the mornings, VH1 and MTV, and being so afraid of Mudvayne. They would film it at that frame rate that's the same as 28 Days Later and they had the devil makeup on. So I remember music scaring the shit out of me.

Do you remember the bands and music that you first connected with?

I heard 'Fat Lip' by Sum 41 on the radio in fourth grade. We were in my dad's Honda Civic and I was like 'What is this?' Then I saw it on TV later. Then that got me into Green Day, Good Charlotte, Blink-182. It helped that MTV actually played those things so I could find them. So that was the first stuff that I really gravitated towards in fourth, fifth, sixth grade. Then in sixth and seventh grade, that's when I started getting more into what nerds would be mad at me calling emo like My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, From First To Last. A few years ago at my parents' house, I found these mix CDs and they had Linkin Park, Chronic Future, that song 'United States Of Whatever', Bowling For Soup. That's when I was buying stuff. Basically once I heard 'Fat Lip', I was just like, 'well, now I'm going to hear all of the songs like this'.

You were lucky to grow up at that time where this kind of music was more easy to discover because it was everywhere in pop culture. That is partly why those bands are still so influential.

I feel like no matter what, all those bands like Good Charlotte, Green Day and Blink, they're still going to be in the bones and foundation of what we're doing. I can still explore as much as I want with production and go do weird shit and try and push things forward as much as possible, because that should be your job as a musician, at least partially. But at the end of the day, the house was still built on that.

As you started playing in bands and playing shows yourself, what did you make of the local scene in Houston?

I started playing shows when I was 13. I've done my 10,000 hours. I remember when I was in seventh and eighth grade; there were some punk bands in the Houston scene that I remember seeing all the fucking time. I still have all these flyers still. But the vast majority, I'd say 85% of the bands, were mainly hardcore. That's mainly what the Houston scene was. So I remember my friends and I would just spend every day at local venues. When you're young, you absorb things better and you learn more. I think that's why when kids start piano when they're three, they can be prodigies, you know what I mean? But I feel like I got that with music that ultimately wouldn't help me very much in the future. I could still list 100 bands from Houston that those people have probably forgotten that they were in by this point. But we would just hang out and if a local band somehow didn't pull through, they would let us go take their spot. I was probably in eight different bands over the course of like three or four years. Whoever I was with, we would just go play the shows. We'd make some songs up, we played covers sometimes. We covered The Used and Motion City Soundtrack, Scary Kids Scaring Kids.

Your first couple of Waterparks' EPs were self- made and self-released, keeping in that DIY spirit. Yet it still felt like you were ambitious and aiming high even back then.

Can I tell you the difference between then and now? See, I don't advertise this information but I don't even listen to that much music now. I'm trying to be better about that and I've got certain friends that will give me stuff to immerse myself. But I've gotten maybe a little bit frustrated. There's so many times where I keep finding cool people on Tik Tok when I finally do go looking for new music, and I'll talk to them for a second and maybe see if they wanna open up for us on tour but they can't because so many fucking people are just quiet signed to major labels. It irritates the shit out of me and the reason they're hiding it is because everybody is so obsessed with authenticity, which they have the right to be, you want your shit to be organic, homegrown, free range, cruelty free, all that shit. But everything that I look at is just a fucking marketing trick or ploy. What is the equivalent of me just being in my fucking room at my parents' house?

"I FEEL MORE LOOSE AND I FEEL LIKE EVERY TOUR I GET BETTER AS A SINGER."

In terms of your attitude back then, you were just treating those self-releases as if you were already on a major label. It didn't feel less legit to you.

Day and night, you're working on those things. It was very real. We're about to get to the point of this conversation where we start trying to quantify success and what it means and it's intangible, we can't do it. But what I do know is you can easily get tricked and be like, 'Oh, my Tik Toks are getting millions of hits' and then draw 20 people to your show. I've seen it happen. So I just care how many people ride with you and will leave their home to come see you play. I don't care how many fucking playlists you bought, I don't care how many ads you run on your Spotify, I don't care if YouTube picked you up on their fucking algorithm - good for you because they've never done that for us - but I want to know how many people fuck with you.

With your own live show, when did you feel like it clicked for Geoff, Otto and yourself? When did you first feel like you understood what a Waterparks show should be?

Maybe 'Fandom'. I didn't start taking vocal lessons till 2021. I feel like that's the first time where I look back and it's not just us playing a song and then stopping and then playing the song and then stopping. It's where we actually built a show. That's when we had 'Double Dare 2019' and 'Entertainment 2019' where we were playing for eight minutes straight and made me feel like fucking Green Day. Like some like 'Jesus of Suburbia', 'Bullet In A Bible' type shit. That's not me saying I thought we sucked during 'Entertainment'. That's not what it is at all. We did cool shit. We did Reading & Leeds main stage on 'Entertainment'. But I just feel like things clicked more on 'Fandom'. I feel so much more comfortable onstage every single tour. I feel more loose and I feel like every tour I get better as a singer. I better not get fucking worse. As long as you're continuing to practice and improve. I need to go fucking play tennis and boxing and all this other shit to be at my best when we're touring, you know what I mean? As long as I'm not fully just lounging and then going straight to the stage, I should, in theory, be a better performer.

You mentioned Reading & Leeds, which was one of many milestone moments you've had in the UK. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

I give the UK a lot of shit for their food and everything but truthfully, those are my favourite shows in the world. They've always given us the most love and I just feel like the UK appreciates bands more. You know what I mean? I wonder if it's because the BBC still plays guitars? Or maybe they just care about rock culture more.

So to jump back a little, when you were making 'Double Dare', what aims did you have? What was on your to-do list around that time?

I could tell you the list. A big bucket list. I don't erase things when I complete them, I just add on. (Looking through his computer) Let's see…I can tell you one of the things it says here is 'A Rock Sound cover'. I tried to fill it out as much as I could with the knowledge that I had because sometimes you don't know what goals you can ask for. You know what I mean? I put 'Have a Top 10 album' and then you get to mark that off. 'Headline Reading and Leeds', not marked off. 'Have a music video on TV. Get shirts in Hot Topic. Play a show with Kesha. Get an apartment. Get a music video with 100K views. Record an album.' I got to mark that one off. There's a ton. I think when you're making that, you also have to look big. You have to project and manifest big shit. When I was in my parents' house thinking about 'Crave' with $0 to my name, I was thinking about playing that in arenas. We hadn't played a show to more than 500 people at that point. So yeah, I think it's always just pretending you're Coldplay. That kind of doesn't change. I mean, I guess until you become Coldplay, and then you're like 'how do we be as big as God?'

“AT A CERTAIN POINT, THERE ARE THINGS THAT YOU DEAL WITH THAT THERAPISTS DON'T UNDERSTAND. SOMETIMES IT'S HARD TO ACCEPT THOSE THINGS."

You've been very fortunate to have some mentors help guide you towards those goals with Joel and Benji Madden and Mikey Way all there to give advice from early on.

So as we said earlier, we didn't have anyone in our corner when we were doing 'Airplane Conversations', 'Black Light' and writing 'Cluster'. Nobody was around; it was just us at home. Joel and Benji both reached out quickly after the other. They were the first people to ever give us the good shit. 'Hey, we see what you're doing. It's cool'. They were the first established people to ever reach out and give us props. I was babysitting and our fucking first label we had just signed with was like, 'Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?' I'm like, 'Oh, just probably babysitting, teaching guitar lessons'. And they're like, 'Well, do you want to come to Los Angeles and have lunch with Benji and Joel?' Then I'm hitting up Geoff and Otto and we come out and we talked about our goals. Fast-forward, they're like 'You want to do some co-writes?' I wanted to be a team player about it because back then especially, I was like 'nobody touches our shit, we don't get help from anybody, we are DIY'. I was so fucking close-minded punk about it. But when they heard all the demos, they went 'Oh, wait, you already have all these. Do you want to use these?' So that's 'Cluster'. That's when Mikey came through and was listening to us. He was always just so nice. He's like 'I'd love to play on it'. So I'm sitting there showing him the bass parts, and he's getting it fucking immediately. It was so weird. I felt like I could be arrested any second and just immediately sound like a crazy person. 'No, no, no, I was talking to My Chemical Romance and Good Charlotte's my friend'. At a certain point, there are things that you deal with that therapists don't understand. Sometimes it's hard to accept those things. Let's say I'm on a tour, which is already a scary thing. You're in a van, you're not fucking sleeping. You have no fucking money. Part of your team is trying to go back on the already shitty contract you have and you're getting fucking cheated on and you're doing just a bunch of crazy shit. You can't call a therapist for that shit. So I would talk to them, especially Joel. I would save those conversations, because I would have to go back to them so much. His time is valuable. It's almost like a cheat sheet in a way. It doesn't perfectly tie up all those bad things but those are probably the best answers I'm gonna get.

Let's talk about playing Warped Tour. You did it a few times in those early years and it must have been a pretty good learning process on how to grow your fanbase.

All 2016 we toured on 'Cluster'. 'Stupid For You' didn't come out until November that year. The reason I think I'm so good at marketing is because I had to do fucking all of it for four years straight. I was talking to somebody about this the other day where they were like, 'Oh man, if you guys ever opened for Taking Back Sunday, you'd fucking kill it. You'd get so many fans'. No, we wouldn't. And I can say this confidently, because I've promoted outside of three of their shows and I can tell you, those people did not like us. There's always the exception that proves the rule, but for the most part, I can tell you where we will and will not thrive because I've promoted to every fucking fan base. So Warped wasn't really different. Based on what shirts they were wearing at barricade or certain age ranges; I have a good meter of who will fuck with it and who will not. A Sleeping With Sirens fan would fucking love us, a Bayside fan would fucking hate us. You get what I mean? Paramore fans would fucking love us. An Alkaline Trio fan would fucking hate us. But the thing is, at Warped, you're kind of forced to exercise that muscle because all of those people are walking by. I wasn't shy on stage or anything but I think that could be one of the reasons I'm really good at crowd work. There's been a lot of bands we've toured with who say 'I don't know how you just talk to them for fucking five minutes between songs about different shit every night'. I don't know how you don't.

"IF IT'S NOT GOING UP AND GETTING BIGGER AND BETTER, I DON'T REALLY WANT TO DO IT."

Once you got to 'Fandom' and 'Greatest Hits', you were far more comfortable with experimenting musically and on the production side too. Did you feel a change in your confidence levels when you reached that era?

Confidence wise, yeah, but I think I'm too close to really see how big of a difference there is on certain things. I always wanted to be able to do 'Fandom' and even on the first EP with songs like 'Fantastic' or 'Silver', we are adding a weird synthy thing or vocal cuts. I was trying to explain that to this kid in the garage in the middle of fucking redneck nowhere woods, Texas. He just cut the voice and I'm like 'pitch it up and drag this one there'. Or bringing a weird, syncopated piano thing into the outro. I tried to make sure of that early on because I've always been such a fan of so many things. I just wanted that to come across even on album one. 'Crave' was a fully electronic thing, 'Territory' I wanted that to be an indie kind of vibe and then 'Mad All The Time' I wanted to be more industrial, kind of like Linkin Park with those weird, major melodies. 'Take Her To The Moon', full fucking pop song then throw 'Dizzy' in there with cut up shit and trappy drums. Then album two, we're gonna go fucking hard as hell with it on 'Tantrum'. I always felt like we were doing these things. But then I heard those albums the way I hear demos, where I think I hear kind of what they are in my head, what they could or should be. I remember when I showed the 'Fruit Roll Ups' demo to Travis (M. Riddle). He didn't really like it that much. It had all the same parts, all the same chords, vocals, the synth outro and the solo and all this stuff. But then when he heard the final one, where I went in with Zakk (Cervini, producer), and we beefed it up and added more stuff, he was like 'I love this one now so much'. But it's the same song. So when those first albums aren't seen as eclectic as the albums starting at 'Fandom', it would confuse me because I always felt like things were diverse. It really might just come down to the production.

One thing that certainly did change was how open you were in your lyrics. They were always honest but now they became a lot more specific over time.

Pete Wentz is my favourite lyricist and I love things just sounding as pretty as possible, trying to word things that people feel but in ways that they've never heard it described. You take a feeling like love, something that everybody fucking knows, and then just say it in a way with a combination of words that nobody has used yet. That was the goal for so long, but then I remember something kind of clicking when I was so mad and made 'Tantrum'. There was something that felt so much more cathartic. It actually gave me adrenaline and I wanted to chase that. That felt so good. There were certain songs like 'Reboot' or this demo called 'Play'. I wouldn't let a song go if it didn't give me chills. Certain lines like 'you're gonna be just like your mother', that's gonna make someone in real life so mad. So I think that's where that came from. Then songs like 'Turbulent' happened - 'you had your own Pete Wentz and Patrick combined' - and that's the start of the song. Are you kidding me? Who in the music sphere is going to hear that and not have some kind of reaction? And I just wanted a reaction. I could start 'Sleep Alone' and it doesn't have to elicit the same thing, but something as strong. They shouldn't elicit the same exact feeling, but they should elicit that dynamic level of emotional response.

“IF WE NEVER GET TO DO THIS AGAIN, I WANT TO GIVE THEM THE COOLEST SHIT POSSIBLE WHILE WE GET TO BE IN THIS SPOT."

As you mentioned earlier, it is hard to quantify success. A good example is the way 'I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don't Wanna Die Anymore' became your most streamed song, largely due to a TikTok trend you had very little to do with.

I didn't even know it was happening. Now, there's so many viral songs that the cycle is quicker. Somebody can have a song that bangs on Tik Tok for two weeks and then it's done. But this was so early on. It wasn't a single; it was a deep cut song on the album. It still doesn't have a music video. Neither does 'Turbulent'. It's just so odd because it also makes you a little mad. But then it's also a little humbling in a way. Things are out of your control, but they'll be okay.

You are still touring your most recent album 'Intellectual Property' so it is probably too early to fully analyze it but, now that we are nearly a year on from its release, how are you reflecting on what you achieved with that record?

I've told you this before but if it's not going up and getting bigger and better, I don't really want to do it. I don't want to spin the tyres in fucking mud. If it's not happening, then I'm not gonna do the trap where things start downgrading and we have to play old albums. It's not what I want. I'm good enough at other things to figure something out but preserve that legacy. But 'Intellectual Property' charted higher than any of our fucking other albums, first Top 10 in the UK. We've sold more tickets to the 'Property' tour than the 'Fandom' tour and the 'See You In The Future' tour combined. I'll say that one more time - we sold more tickets to the 'Property' tour than the entire 'Fandom' tour and the entire 'Greatest Hits' tour if you put them both together and add them up. That's the indicator to me. That's what matters to me. I did say at the top of the cycle in such a simple way that I want one of the red songs above the green songs. That's literally what I told Fueled By Ramen. So that didn't happen because the Tik Tok lords did not mysteriously bless us in our sleep. We still sold more. We got more real people in real seats. More was accomplished and it was bigger and better.

It feels like you have the same aim with each tour too - growing and building on what came before. Yet, again, you have always had those bigger ambitions for the show even when you were in slightly smaller rooms.

Dress for the job you want. With all the rooms we did on the 'Property' tour, they're the same ones that we would do for 'Greatest Hits', right? So it's like, okay, we did it. We conquered those rooms. Now we have to move up. Shit. Because otherwise, you just keep doing victory laps forever in the same rooms. So some of them, there's no fucking chance in hell we're gonna sell these out. But it's cool to try. And the thing is, it's still selling on par with the 'Property' tour. Part of me is like, damn, I wish we could have as many sold out things but there are already more people going to this show than the previous sold out one. So I pick my battles. Yeah, you could go play to 1300 people in New York again or you could try and do the fucking big ass thing. So that's kind of where it's at now. You want to build a fucking real show. On the 'Property' tour, we actually got to build shit for the first time. We built a set and this time it is just a bigger version of that. It's just bigger and with more changes. It's not even a spoiler because that's so fucking vague, but to have the show and set change as the set goes on, it's fucking cool. Sometimes I see people who are doing these same size rooms (so this isn't remotely punching down, we're doing the same rooms) and they'll just have a banner. Give them more. Give them a show. I'm so grateful to actually get to be in these rooms finally that if we never get to do this again, I want to give them the coolest shit possible while we get to be in this spot.

"NO PART OF ME IS INTERESTED IN JUST REPEATING THE CYCLE OVER AND OVER AND OVER."

Speaking of bigger shows, you got to play in arenas for the first time when you supported My Chemical Romance. Given what a huge fan you are of that band, it must have felt quite surreal.

Dude, it was so weird and so cool. Every night, the first song scared the shit out of me and then you kind of get the rhythm of it. It's just so weird. Sometimes between songs, I just had to look and take a mental picture. I saw My Chem when I was younger in an arena and I could see the seats I was in, you know what I mean? I could see people in them. You get to a certain point where stuff doesn't blow your mind as much but that blew my fucking mind every day. I remember the first time we ever got to go in a bus. It was so exciting. Now, when I get in the bus, I'm like, 'Okay, but where's the charger in the bunk? Where's the air? Is it just gonna freeze my feet?' It's not to say I'm ungrateful it just becomes more normal. If you go to the best pizza spot every day, after years of having it, it's just a good pizza spot. But getting to go open for My Chem and everything around it and all the details of it, I just never got used to. We'd go to the catering room and we'd sit down and there's Frank and there's Ray. We were in this hockey arena in the locker room and I had all my outfits, planning them out, and at one point, Gerard came through. I was showing him the fits and everything and he was like, 'Oh, you have great style'. I don't think you can get used to that. It's crazy. Maybe My Chem is used to it because they've been playing arenas for years and years and years, maybe that's the standard now. But God, that blew my fucking mind every day.

As you start to think about wrapping up this era, what are the goals as you move forward?

I just want to go places that we haven't been because that's what makes me feel excited. Like with playing in an arena for the first time, anything that is a huge dynamic change. That's all I'm looking for. I just want to feel excited. The people who like us, I appreciate them because we're so lucky enough to be in a place where we don't have to tour into the fucking ground if we don't want to just to survive. No part of me is interested in touring into the ground this year. I feel like we've been on tour for the last two and a half years straight. 2022 was preparing for this album, 2023 was promoting this album. One thing I enjoyed about 2019 was that we only did a short opening run, early in the year, and then we did the 'Fandom' tour at the end of the year. But that whole spring, summer and fall, we were just making cool shit. That made me feel excited. We made so many music videos and just did a lot of cool shit. We got to focus on the creative. I never would have been throwing around Sunny D in my apartment bathroom taking pictures of it for the 'Fandom' album cover if I had jetlag. No part of me is interested in just repeating the cycle over and over and over. I want to just do things that we haven't done yet and make stuff for everyone. Because if we go play in Copenhagen, Waterparks is for Copenhagen that day. But when I'm home and we're operating at full mental capacity and everything, we can make things for everybody. At the end of the day, I never want to fall into a pattern and repeat myself and do the same shit. I want to expand and see what we can do, what our capabilities are like. Do something that somebody hasn't done yet. I want to rent a movie theatre and do a fucking real premiere. I don't want to give a bunch of shit away but there's a lot of things that are always in the works. As Awsten, the guy steering the ship on fucking Waterparks, whatever's going on I just want it to be new and cool and feel fulfilling. If we had some fucking tyrant label that was like 'We need an album now' I could go 'There's fucking 100 songs on here. Go fucking make your album, pick them. Go have Zakk mix them'. But it's just not what intuitively feels right and I want to follow that intuition. I keep looking back at the 2019 year map as kind of a blueprint. That's not to say I'm gonna stay home all year. But it's just gotta be new. I want that feeling of getting in the bus for the first time.

#i only edited one of these outside of adjustment edits bc i realized the shadowy thing actually worked for a shoot like this let me be lazy #waterparks #awsten knight #geoff wigington #otto wood #i.zip