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flamingpudding · 6 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 20 - "This better be good."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A green Vortex swirled in front of them and Constantine held his breath. This was not like any of the summonses he usually did. He looked over his shoulder at the others present, wondering if he could somehow bullshit his way out of this. But one thing was clear, whatever he had summoned was not one of his demons.

The Vortex continued to swirl before them, slowly greenish smoke started to rise out of him. Then suddenly a melody started to echo around them and Constantine felt like face palming.

"Uh… isn't this the Melody of This is Halloween?" The Flash asked aloud, exchanging glances with the others present.

"Constantine." Great Bats was getting grumpy, the JL Dark member thought, refusing to turn around to face any of the heroes. Ignoring them might make them stop questioning what was happening with this summon. It wasn't like there were any pressing situations, forcing this summon in hopes to prevent whatever interdimensional war Trigon was about to start. No, they hadn't forced him out and away from the curse he had been working on. Not like there were other members of the JL Dark, Constantine clearly knew the big bad Bat liked to work more with than him.

Humming resounded from the vortex now too, clearly depicting the chorus of the well known Halloween song, and John's eye twitched. The fuck kinda demon spirit did he summon now? Was whatever he summoned making fun of him just because that being got summoned in October? The rising smoke started to move, taking on a shape that appeared more humanoid as the humming started to become clearer though it sounded like it was filtered through static as it still sounded somewhat distorted.

"Shadow is the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing green! Spectra is the one hiding under your stairs, fingers like snakes and spiders in her hair."

The voice echoed sounding like a mix of static and white noise but became clearer the more or the green smoke escaped from the vortex. None of them really knew what was going on and Constantine was cursing up a storm in his mind. What the hell was happening right now, he just wanted to get the Spirit of Balance to help them out with Trigon? They were supposed to symbolize balance, surely they would have the easiest time to fix that imbalance the demon was about to wreck across dimensions.

"In this zone we call home, everyone hails to the ghost-like song! In this zone, don't we love it now? Clockworks' waiting for the next surprise!" The smoke was twirling around and moving like they were picking something up from inside the vortex, its shape still smokey but slowly Constantine was able to make out certain shapes of the head and arms as the voice continued to hum and then sing the static was more and more receding.

"Freakshow is the clown with the thermos to his face, sucked up in a flash and gone without a trace. I am the who when you call, 'Who's there?'. Dani is the wind blowing through your hair. Dan is the shadow on the moon at night, Frighty filling your dreams to the brim with fright!" The voice was now very clear, no interference, the smoke had fully formed a human-like body and appeared to be a white haired teen boy, though John noted, his summon was turned with his back to them appearing not to notice him or the heroes in the room and holding… Was that a Halloween party garland?

"This is Halloween, this is Hallo- who the fuck are you guys?" Mid lyrics the kid appeared to have turned around his arms raised like he was going to hang the garland of cut out pumpkins on a wall. White green eyes stared at them before the summoned eyes went to the garland in his hands that were then quickly hidden behind the teens back.

"Spirit of balance-"

"It's Ancient actually."

The spirit, ancient, cut in and Constantine hurried to correct his mistake. "Ancient of balance, we are the Justice League and have summoned you to seek your help…" Constantine started his usual spiel, ignoring Green Lantern's mutter of if that kid really was the spirit of balance as well as the judging looks and burning glare he felt on his back from Batman. He was not going over with them again about the fact that demon, spirits, ghost and the likes can look like whatever the fuck they wanted.

"Okay, stop!" The summoned teen held up a hand before John could continue. "I was in the middle of an important Halloween themed stabilization party preparation! To finally celebrate Dan after Dani pestered him for months! So this better be good, to get in the way of my first fight free weekend in years!"

"A war with demons is about to start." Constantine's head whipped around to glare at Batman, does he need to hold another course of how to properly communicate with interdimensional beings?

"That's Demon Realm Issues, not Ghost related. Could you humans stop mixing us up? I am not even from the same dimension as them and we have enough troubles with them breaching the Ghost Zone borders every month!" The summoned teen arched an eyebrow at them, crossing his arms and bringing that damned Halloween garland back into view again. They clearly didn't want to be here and if Constantine knew anything about unwilling summons then one wrong world could screw them all over right now.

"Trigon is the one starting it." Batman added and once more the JL Dark member sent the Dark knight a seething glare. That hypocrite put him through a lecture about hero behavior and cautions before, John would return the favor once the crisis was handled.

"Trigon?" His head whipped around to look at the suddenly very interested ancient of balance floating over to Batman.

"What did that big toddler do now?" It appeared like the Ancient was talking to themselves more than them as he crossed his arms completely forgetting about the wall decoration in his hands as they tilted their head in thoughts and started to ignore them. They were mumbling something John couldn't hear, for once he wished Superman was around so he could tell them with his super hearing.

"I have no idea who you guys are but, fine! I will help but only because Dan mentioned wanting to fight that overgrown toddler again. That's going to be his stabilizing day present! He can't complain this way that I got him something lame."

Constantine was about to sigh a breath of relief until he noticed the Ancient of Balance opening a good damn vortex and pulling out a snarling, red glowing eyed and blue flamed haired spirit by the neck. He paled then realizing that the being of balance just pulled the Spirit er Ancient of Wrath into their dimension. John then also noticed what appeared to be a little girl hanging like a koala of Wrath's back and then remembered a passage in the summoning text of the Spirit of Balance, he apparently had carelessly ignored.

Summoning Balance, Wrath and Mischief always stuck together. Sweating heavily, Constntine ignored any and all looks sent his way, because he was sure he might have just doomed their Dimension or at least plunged them into chaos for the time being.

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nyoomiin · 1 month

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roommates: part one.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

masterlist. next.

Needle and thread in your hands, a hum dancing under your breath. A bell chimes as a door swings open, and two hushed, urgent voices can be heard. You look up from your sewing.

One, a brunet with a charming grin, and the other, partially hidden behind him. It catches your eye — those violet eyes brimming with curiosity, meekly peeking through long hair, blue as the wine-dark sea. You’re struck with a faint surprise, then a surging sense of excitement.

“Archons, you’re perfect,” someone breathes.

It’s you.

You awaken, mood tinged with a secondhand embarrassment you can't quite place. Stretching as you clamber out of bed, you try to recall the dream you just had.

It's futile. It drifts away.

You're excited to meet your new roommate.

Your previous one had left after he got his own house, so you've had the place all to yourself for the past few months. Frankly it was getting lonely, as peaceful as it was. The "rooms” your landlord rented out were more like apartments, really, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen.

You hope you get along with them, whoever they are. They'd be arriving today, you think. You wonder if they like soup.

Just then, you hear clinking keys, and the front door swinging open. Standing eagerly, you rush to greet your housemate, nervous and delighted all the same. You turn the corner to look, and —

— “Archons, you’re gorgeous,” you breathe.

Sharp-eyed and porcelain skin, a slender build and hair a royal blue — not to mention the way his outfit brought out everything good in him to a tee — white, and blue and utterly angelic. You only realise you’ve said something completely out of pocket when you notice the expression on his face.

You blink.

He doesn’t.

… Whoops?

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you,” you say cheerily, introducing yourself. You decide never to think about how absolutely horrendous your first impression must be ever again. “Do you need help moving your things? I made soup for dinner — do you want some?”

He shoots you the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen. “Where is my room?”

“Oh! Ehm, it’s the door furthest down the hall, and the bathroom’s the one closest to the living room.”

Saying nothing more, he brushes past you brusquely. Seconds later, a door slams shut with a resounding thud.

You frown, huffing. What a cold guy. Still, did he have to react like that…? Maybe he was shy, or something. Your… blunt comment would’ve caught anyone off guard. Anyway, pretty people are always difficult at the start, you think, reminded of how unapproachable you believed Alhaitham to be before you had befriended him.

Well, you’d just have to try again another time.

Knocking on his door, you call, “I left you some soup in case you get hungry later. Remember to heat it up before you eat.”

You don’t get a response, but you can hear his shuffling footsteps, and you decide that was enough for now.

( Inside, the wanderer curses everyone and the gods above.

To ‘rehabilitate him into society’, Nahida had basically forced him into… whatever this arrangement was. Now, he had to deal with you too?

You knock on the door then, and he stiffens.

“I left you some soup in case you get hungry later,” you say. “Remember to heat it up before you eat.”

He scoffs. Truly, what a fate worse than death. He’d find a new place to stay as soon as possible. The past was no more, and thus there was no longer a reason for your life to be entangled with his.

His heart thuds a slow, steady beat. It's a sensation he has yet to get used to.

Unwilling as he may be, he wonders if your soup still tastes the same as it did all those years ago. )

#—stellaronhvnters.#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #decided to split the oneshot into chapters bec yes

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wooahaes · 4 months

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dream a little dream with me

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 9/13

word count: 4.7k~

warnings: skinship. food mentions. some slight angst.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a soulmate i meet with in my dreams...

summary: Jeonghan knows you. He might not know your face, but you’re the person in his dreams every night. And frankly… he’s pretty sure he’s already falling for you. He just has to figure out how to find you when the world won’t let him trade names or locations or anything he can actually use. At least he knows your favorite things…

"Hello...?"

Jeonghan was maybe thirteen when he finally met you for the first time, and you'd already proven him wrong with your existence alone. When he had turned ten, he expected to feel... something. To lose all the colors within his vision, or maybe he would feel your pain or something physical. A name, your first thoughts, your first words... Except he felt nothing. It'd upset him, sure--most people were upset by that kind of thing just on the account of being considered an outsider to their peers. Yet now he'd found himself in a museum filled with paintings he couldn't fully make out, and surrounded by people with blurry faces... Except for you.

He'd blinked. "Hello?"

And you lit up, making your way over to him. "You're...?"

Jeonghan had furrowed his brow, watching you carefully. Why could he see you...? "I'm Jeonghan," he had said, thinking that was what you meant.

You'd given him your given name, too--last name melting into white noise for a second. For a moment, you stood there, brimming with excitement. "We're--We're soulmates."

Immediately, he'd felt lighter at the revelation. "Oh!" Then he paused, brows drawing together once more as a follow-up thought pushed into his head immediately. "Why haven't we met before?"

He'd seen the way you grew more upset, gaze no longer meet his own. "I'm... It's complicated." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I think... Our sleep schedules don't overlap?" You looked up. "I laid down to take a nap for a bit because I was feeling sick, so..."

So you weren't near him. He felt a sting of rejection, even though you hadn't said anything of the sort.. Emotions were weird at thirteen, after all, and something like his soulmate not being near him. Obviously, it wasn't your fault: you didn't pick where you lived. He looked around, and felt... awkward. It was different than meeting someone for the first time in reality. At least other people were around. Now, it just you and him in this dream together.

"Do you wanna talk?" He said after a moment. "Since... I don't know if I'll get to see you again."

"You aren't mad?"

He shook his head. "I just wish you were closer," he crossed his arms. "This isn't fair."

You frowned. "It's not... So let's talk."

The two of you strolled on your own, getting to know one another. He learned the country you were from, even though he wouldn't know what city or town you were in. He learned about this doughnut place in your hometown, though, that you loved to visit when you could. He told you school stories and about his own friends, about the pranks he'd pulled on his little sister... Little things to learn about one another. He learned your favorite color, you learned the foods he disliked...

And then all too soon, you had disappeared within seconds. He had called for you, only to realize that you must have woken up--or been woken up, since it was so sudden. When he woke up the next morning for school, he told his parents that he'd met his soulmate in his dreams (even though he couldn't fully remember your face once he was awake).

Thus began the cycle. He probably needed the naps he would start taking in an attempt to meet you again, but he'd grown used to pushing through his fatigue to work on schoolwork or to spend time with friends. Yet his parents always knew where he'd be when they came home from work, finding him asleep on his bed as he hoped to meet you again.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could sit with you for a little while, long enough to see you off before you woke up for your own schooling. Other times, he'd get home far too late to see you. But every time the two of you met over the rest of your teenage years, you made it work. The two of you would talk more about yourselves, getting to know each other better. He learned how to tell when you were upset, and would let you vent if you needed to. You'd given him a space to talk freely about his own feelings, too: the things that made him happy, or the things that were worrying him in real life...

Most people didn't know about his 'other' life in his dreams. The one where the two of you would go on walks in a city, sometimes holding hands. He'd slowly begun to fall for you over time, realizing that the care you showed him was sweet. The two of you had been strangers years ago, and now he understood maybe that was why the two of you were soulmates.

When he tried to kiss you around eighteen, you stopped him.

"I wanna kiss you for real," you said to him, holding his hands. "I know it's unfair to ask you to wait for me, but--"

"I will." He hadn't hesitated. Although he had kissed a girl once before (he was fifteen, and he realized after he did it that he'd much rather be kissing the person in his dreams) and told you so, he'd held off on dating. He wanted to experience things with you.

You'd squeezed his hands. "You don't have to."

Were you rejecting him...? What if he started dating someone and he loved them more than he already loved you? Part of him felt like he knew he would leave that person if he met you face-to-face, and yet... That meant he would hurt someone else. He'd heard stories about soulmates who left partners to be with one another, and while they were happy, the people left behind grew to resent them. Could he really do that to another person?

"You don't want me to?" He'd pulled his hands from yours, feeling the tiny sting in his chest.

You shook your head. "No, I--I just don't want you to wait around for me forever. What if we never meet?"

But what if we do? Jeonghan felt his heart sink in his chest. "We will," he said. Jeonghan never considered himself a hopeless romantic, but he had the naivete of a eighteen-year-old on his side. "I'll find you. I promise."

Before you could say something, you had begun to fade again. You were waking up. "Jeonghan--"

And then you were gone.

The first person Jeonghan had told about you was one of his college roommates, Joshua. He'd been listening to the way he'd been venting about how he felt he was annoying his soulmate whenever he sang, and waited until Seungcheol left for class to finally admit it out loud. He'd tell Seungcheol, too, soon: he just... needed to do it at his own pace. Both of his roommates seemed like good people who wouldn't judge him, but he'd already decided. Joshua first, and then Seungcheol. Deciding on that had made it easier, especially since Seungcheol was the busier of the two.

"My soulmate and I share dreams," he had said, pushing around the noodles in his ramyeon cup.

Joshua looked up. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "We talk whenever we can. It's hard. They're not from here. Depending on when I take a nap, I can either talk to them for a while or just ten minutes..."

"It sounds hard," Joshua nodded along. He'd sat backwards in his chair, leaning against the back of it with his chest, arms folded over the top. "So what are you doing to find them?"

Jeonghan said nothing.

"... Aren't you going to look for them?"

Jeonghan's gaze flickered up from his food. "I don't know. I don't know if they actually want to be found."

"That's--"

"We talked about it last time we met, a little over a year ago." He pushed around noodles more, never actually eating. "I'm in love with them. I don't know how they feel, although they said they'd rather kiss me for real when we meet. Then they said not to wait for them."

"It sounds like they're in love with you, too," he said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "Then why tell me not to wait?"

"Well... They're not from here." Joshua rested his chin on his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to feel like you can't date or anything."

"Don't you think I've tried it before?" Jeonghan looked up. "After they said that, I tried to move on, and I spent the entire time comparing her to my soulmate. She's not them."

Joshua frowned. "Dude... If you spend the entire time comparing, them, you're not going to be happy--"

"I know that." Jeonghan let out a sigh. "I just... I tried being with other people. She wasn't the only girl I tried to date--or see at all." They're just my soulmate, and I realized how much I love them every time I try to be with someone else. But would Joshua understand that...? Or would he just sound over-dramatic for someone he'd never met in person?

"I... see." Joshua looked off. "I guess it's different when you know your soulmate."

Jeonghan softened a little when he saw the guilt on Joshua's face. "It's fine," he said. "I just... I wish I could go to them. I don't know where they are, exactly, and it's not like I can go find them."

Can't you? He pushed away the thought. The world was big. .He couldn't just go out and find you--at least, not without looking like a creep. As much as he wished he could just let go of that desire deep within him to be with you, even temporarily, he just couldn't. Not when he'd gotten to know you so deeply. He felt as though a part of him would always be with you now, and that he carried you with him wherever he went.

Joshua understood, though. He listened, and he gave Jeonghan his thoughts whenever he asked for him. Seungcheol would eventually do the same, once Jeonghan told him about his soulmate. Seungcheol hadn't shown any offense to not being told (it was Jeonghan's business, after all). And in the moments in-between, Jeonghan was with you in some way--either thoughts preoccupied with you or in the fleeting moments of sharing a dream space.

"I kissed someone," you confessed at one point. Jeonghan had been sitting underneath a tree with you, fashioning a flower crown out of the little yellow blossoms that littered the ground around him. You craned your neck to look at him, "Are you mad...?"

He shook his head. "Do you like this?"

At first, you didn't move, and he felt his heart falter. "I dunno," you confessed a moment later. "I feel like... Every person I meet, I keep comparing them to you. Like... Hannie would laugh at this joke. Or Hannie would think this. It's like... I can't get you out of my head."

His heart skipped a beat this time as he stared at you, his face growing redder by the second. "... Really?"

"I... I dunno. It's just--I don't want you to think I'm some sort of loser when we meet."

When. Not if. "So you want to find me?"

He saw the way you grew more flustered, eyes landing anywhere but him as you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting. "Yes. Are you mad?" You finally met his gaze. "I mean... I think I hurt you before. When I told you not to wait for me? And we never talked about it, so..."

Jeonghan set the flower crown into his lap, reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm not mad," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"So you were mad."

He nodded a little after a moment. "At first..." He drew his hand back, shifting over so that he could sit closer to you. "At first I was hurt," he said, "because I thought you didn't want to find me. And... And I really wanted to kiss you, so I thought you were rejecting me, and.. I talked to my friends about it and they told me that it was alright to feel hurt, but that I was making assumptions about how you felt. So..." He dropped his hand down, pressing his palms into the grass. "How do you feel?"

"I've always wanted to meet you," you said outright. "But... I was talking to a few friends, and they kept asking questions about where you lived, and whether we'd get the chance to meet. It felt kinda mean," you moved closer, pressing your back against the tree, so that you could sit next to Jeonghan. "Like... They don't get a guarantee that they'll meet their soulmates. What makes us different?"

"Well, we know each other," he said, hand slipping into your own. "It's easier to accept things if you don't know your soulmate."

"I guess," you nodded along. "But... I dunno, it just made me anxious that we'd never be able to find each other."

"We will," Jeonghan said softly. "We'll make it work. I want to try."

Your hand curled around his, squeezing it tighter. "I want to try, too," you said, firm in what you were committing to. "Hannie?" You paused for a moment, "Jeonghan...? I want to be with you. I know we've never met in person, but can we...?"

He nodded. "Yes," he breathed out, reaching his other hand up to turn your face toward him. "May I...?"

You closed the distance between the two of you. It left him wondering if your lips would be this soft in reality. The last thing he heard was the sound of you saying his name, about to say something else when he found himself back in his couch, heart racing in his chest. He had jolted forward, fully awake out of nowhere, enough that it alerted Joshua and Seungcheol. The two were sitting at their little dinner table when they turned to see Jeonghan.

"... Bad dream?" Joshua called out.

Jeonghan just bolted to his bedroom, shutting himself in as he processed what all just happened. You kissed him. You wanted to be more. You wanted to find him.

And, fuck, he was going to do anything to find you now.

Most people gave Jeonghan weird looks when he explained his relationship to them. Yes, he hadn't met you in real life yet. No, it didn't really do anything to the relationship--it limited your dates, sure, but you had fun manipulating the dreamscape together to go wherever you wanted to go. Amusement parks with no waits for the rides, or this little cafe in your hometown, or a lovely park at night that Jeonghan walked through alone and wished you were there with him in reality. There were plenty of downsides, sure--neither of you could taste the food that you were eating, or feel the wind on your face--but you made it work and resolved to live these out once you found your way to each other. Sometimes people tried to challenge him: how could he have a relationship entirely with someone in his dreams? Didn't he miss the physical contact?

Which... The answer was a resounded 'yes,' but also it was none of their business. The two of you made it work, end of story. He'd eventually had a friend circle that accepted his relationship with his soulmate, although he'd become insistent that (when Seungkwan met his soulmate) his experience didn't count. That the two of you had agreed that your 'day one' of your relationship would be the day that you met face to face, just to make it easier to pin down a date. Everyone else had a date they could use as an anniversary, and you... Well, you and Jeonghan were different.

Although things had changed years later. All he knew at first was that he went to sleep one night, and you were there.

"... Jeonghan?"

And he'd stared at you, your name slipping from his mouth as he rushed over to you. "Are you sick again?" He frowned. "Honey, I wish I could be there to--"

"No, I... I moved. Remember?"

Right. You... You told him that you were moving for a job opportunity. It'd saddened him a little in the moment because both of you knew it'd make meeting harder, and yet all of that seemed to fade away in an instant.

"So you're...?" He didn't want to speak it aloud. What if it weren't true? What if...?

You nodded slowly. "I think... I'm closer," you said. "I'm in--"

The next few words seemed to dissolve into nothing, like his brain refused to register them. Jeonghan took your face into his hands, tears wetting his cheeks as he shook his head. Why can't it just work? Why can't their connection just let them have this now? You were closer to him. That should mean that the two of you can freely talk, and yet all he could hear was muffled words that he couldn't make out at all.

"We can't," he said, "we'll just... We'll have to find a way without saying names."

It broke his heart every time he saw you cry, and this time was worse. You nodded, though, hands coming up to hold his. "We'll find a way," you said. "Saturdays. I'll... I'll wait for you somewhere." Another name became muffled when you spoke it aloud, and you loudly swore as you broke away from him. "Coffee," you said, turning to him. "I'll... I'll always go to the same place near--" Again, your voice cut out. "Fuck--Just start looking, and--and we'll figure it out if it doesn't work."

"You'll stay there?" He watched you carefully. "All day?"

An eager nod, motivated by how close the two of you were now. "All day. Every Saturday until I find you."

And so it began.

Jeonghan... truly underestimated how many coffee places existed in this fucking city. But he went out every Saturday morning and spent hours upon hours searching for you. For months, that search came up empty. Joshua had offered to help, but Jeonghan turned both he and Seungcheol (and everyone, for that matter) down. He needed to find you himself. Maybe it was hubris, or maybe it was because he wanted to be the first one to meet you... He wasn't exactly sure anymore. A mix of both, perhaps. You could meet his friends in time, but Jeonghan didn't want anyone else to see you in person before he did. He'd known you this long. He'd been with you this long. He needed to be the first one to see you.

Three months ago, Chan met his soulmate. How much longer would it take for Jeonghan to find you? He approached the last place on his list for today, night having already fallen upon him. Maybe he'd change places with you, and have you running around looking for him. He'd try to pick somewhere more niche, though, just to make it easier on you. Jeonghan tucked his hands into his jacket pocket, staring down at his phone as he followed the directions to this place. It was a little out of the way, but maybe if he made it in time, he'd be able to swing by the bigger place not far from there. It closed earlier, sure, but it usually had way more foot traffic from what he could tell.

The thought that had been haunting him hit him again: would you even like him when you saw him in person? It'd been something stupid that popped into his head one Saturday a month ago, but it still shook him a little more than he expected. He'd seen you in so, so many dreams; he'd been with you, dating you, and yet it felt like there was a degree of separation. Those were his dreams with you, this was the real world where other people would get in the way. Where he couldn't just go to that cafe in your hometown with you, giggling about a silly joke one of you cracked, without having to travel to get there. He'd confessed his fears to Joshua once day, and Joshua had just stared at him.

"But you're in love with them."

"I know, but what if they don't love me once they see me?" Jeonghan had been curled up on Joshua's couch that night, a blanket draped around him. He toyed with the edge of it, fingers curling around the plush material. "It's different, I think."

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god. You're so stupid."

"Hey--"

"Jeonghan." Joshua turned, entirely serious as he leaned in, "They love you, dumbass. I know your dreams are magical or whatever, but they still like being with you. You told me they trust you enough to cry on you and tell you about how bad work was, or about friend troubles, or enough to just say they need to cry because of stress. If things change when they see you, they weren't really in love with you. Dreams are whatever--you're still you."

Jeonghan had said nothing at first, letting the words sink in. Then when he looked up, he saw Joshua looking off into the distance, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "They're singing, aren't they?"

Joshua cracked a smile. Jeonghan knew him well enough. "It's quiet," he said, "but... Yeah. They are."

Jeonghan knew that while Joshua was the one who sang more often in his relationship, he truly loved whenever his soulmate would sing. He knew that Joshua had told them that, and they chose to indulge him in it a little more often. Jeonghan should take a video or a picture of this and send it to them: you broke your soulmate, btw, come get him. Then again... Joshua definitely had ammunition of his own. Videos of times where Jeonghan had woken up in a pleasant mood because he'd gone on a date with you yet again, always ending with Joshua telling the camera that he was ready for the two of you to meet already.

At the end of the street on the left. Jeonghan had begun to hurry at this point, already feeling his heart sinking in his chest. No. No, no, no, fuck--The lights were out, and no one was inside despite the website saying that this place stayed open for another two hours. There had been a piece of paper taped up on a window that said something about one of the coffee machines breaking down and causing a big enough mess that they'd have to close for the night. Shit. What if this had been the one? What if you were inside when the coffee machine broke, spraying hot coffee everywhere? What if you had been burned? Jeonghan wanted to kick himself for not getting here sooner, but he looked at the other shop that closed in less than ten minutes. Fuck. Next Saturday for sure. Maybe that would be the one.

He did what he always did. He called Joshua, and told him that, yet again, he had failed to find you.

"Aw. I'm sorry, dude," Joshua had said. "Are you sure you don't want us to help out?"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol had spoken up, "We will! Just tell us where to go, and we'll find them. There's too many places for you to do it on your own. Stop being stubborn about this."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, glad that he had friends who cared so deeply about him. "No, it's fine. We'll find each other soon. I can feel it. We'll talk about it tonight and see if they can give me any details."

Of course, you hadn't before. Whatever was keeping the two of you from finding each other made sure of that. But they didn't need to know how many failed attempts Jeonghan had made at this point.

"Are you sure?" Seungcheol sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to do this alone. We're all here for you. If you say the word to Seungkwan--"

Another warm chuckle. "He'll storm every shop himself," Jeonghan said. "That's why I haven't told anyone else yet. You know Mingyu would go out searching without telling any of us."

"You sound exhausted," Joshua spoke up after a moment. "Want one of us to pick you up?"

"I'll just take the bus. I think I'll plan my next move during the ride." Jeonghan tucked his other hand back into his pocket. He needed the time to lick his wounds and pick himself back up, too. "Maybe... I'll figure out a new plan."

"Just call me if you change your mind," Seungcheol said. "Get home safely."

"I will," Jeonghan said, and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and let out a sigh.

Okay. Another failed Saturday. Jeonghan wouldn't lose hope, though: he'd find you soon enough. It wouldn't be as soon as he planned, but he would find you, and he would kiss you, and he'd never let anything tear the two of you apart like this ever again. Even with work trips and vacations and whatnot, Jeonghan would be happy to see your face again outside of his dreams.

The bus had slowed to a stop, and Jeonghan climbed on before taking a seat near the back. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by once the bus had lurched forward again. If the two of you could pick something less common, maybe you'd find one another sooner. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by as his eyelids began to droop. Next Saturday. He hugged himself tighter. Next Saturday would be the day. He had to find you then. Or maybe it was time to let his friends help him find you. What was the point of being stubborn about it all when he was taking away days he could be falling in love with you all over again?

"Hello...?"

He must have dozed off on the bus again, the sound of your voice making him open his eyes.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when's your stop?"

You must have been teasing him again. "Wherever you want it to be," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as they always do. It was always easy to say such things to you. He looked up, and pauses, mind fuzzy for a moment. "Sorry, I thought you were my..."

And then it's clear. There you stood in front of him, one hand gripping the seat next to him and the other on the one in front of it. Your eyes widened as realization hit you, and Jeonghan was already rising out of his seat. The bus driver yelled something back at the two of you, but Jeonghan wasn't listening. And it seemed like you weren't, either.

"Good morning, Hannie," you teased lightly, already smiling at him.

Jeonghan only leaned in, thrilled that you closed the distance between the two of you. He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours as he tasted something sweet on your lips. Tea, he thought, or maybe some sort of dessert involving matcha or something. Your body was warm underneath his touch and so much more real than he'd ever dreamed of. But what about you? Did he live up to your dreams?

"I love you," he said softly when he drew back. Emotions surged in his chest: relief, joy, love. The freedom of no longer having to search for you crashed over him in waves, and he felt himself tear up. He roughly wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling as he tried to hold back now. This wasn't how he wanted either of you to remember your first meeting, with him about to sob.

Yet all it took was seeing you cry for him to break, pulling you into his arms as he held you tight. The bus driver yelled back again, and he just reached back frantically, pressing the button to signal for the two of you to get off as soon as you could. And he left with you, hand in hand, as the two of you stepped out underneath the stars, already falling in love with one another all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan fluff

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short-honey-badger · 4 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 11

Alright. So this part is pretty plot heavy, I would think? I hope you enjoy the direction I've got planned, and if you have any suggestions I would gladly hear them!

Warnings! Kissing and some heavy petting? It's not too graphic. Mihawk is sad.

Masterlist

For once, you are the first one awake the next morning. Your eyes crack open to the delightful sight of your lover? Boyfriend? You still don't know which term you prefer. But he looks beautiful while asleep, his usually pinched scowl relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. You take in his handsome features, to his sharp jaw and immaculate facial hair.

This man has become so much to you in what feels like such a small amount of time. It feels more like you have known Dracule for your entire life, not the measly three months that have actually passed. And maybe you have, the more you think about it, and if your dreams have anything to say about it.

After that first time, you've had similar dreams since. Sometimes, they aren't as bad. Sometimes it will be you and that same young man. He would grace you with a smile and promise that everything would be okay. That he wouldn't allow what mother and father agreed to happen. You still don't really know what he means, and the dreams always slip away before you can examine them.

Other times, it would be storming, the wind and sea raging as you and the boy struggled to sail through the crashing waves. Those ones were the worst, for you had eaten a devil fruit, and the ocean hated those who had betrayed her trust. Those dreams made you wake up in a sweat, the name of the young man on your lips, but unsaid, you still couldn't remember it.

But no matter what, you would always see a familiar sword and a wide brimmed hat with its white feather. You know who they belong to now, especially now that the owner in question lay in the bed with you. But why would he be showing up in such odd dreams? Did Dracule know something about you? Something that could connect you to your past that you have long forgotten?

The thought made you uneasy, and you did not like it.

Mihawk moves in his sleep, the arm that he had wrapped around your waist tugging you closer, “Stop thinking so hard, Angel,” he grumbles and his rough voice had your stomach doing flips, “Go back to sleep.”

A quiet sigh leaves your nose, and you close your eyes to do as he says. This lasts all for ten seconds before you open your eyes again, frowning as you shift to get comfortable. You try again, and still, sleep does not come. You squirm a little more and press your cold nose into his chest to block out what little light is streaming through the window.

Despite being much more comfortable, your mind will not calm and thoughts race. You find yourself shifting again, brow scrunching up, and you close to giving up when Dracule suddenly grabs you and rolls so that he lays on top of you.

You shiver when his hot breath ghosts over your neck and ear, “What's got you so restless, Dear one?” Mihawk demands and presses soft kisses to the skin right below Your ear. You gasp and clutch his shoulders, eyes fluttering at how nice it feels to have him press you into the bed.

“I keep having these dreams,” you begin and hiss when Dracule nips you a little harsher than usual, “But they feel like memories. And I see you every time.” You admit and Mihawk chuckles darkly, and you can feel it rumble through his chest.

“Dreaming about me?” Dracule teases and leans up to rest on his elbows, looking at where he has you trapped beneath him, and frowns when he realizes that you look serious. He shifts to his back, taking you with him so that you lay splayed over his chest.

“Do you want to tell me about them?” Mihawk asks, teasing tone from earlier gone and replaced by one of care and gentle encouragement. He rubs circles into the exposed skin of your back where your sleep shirt has risen up and hums in content when he feels your weight settle over him.

You think about his offer. You aren't sure what kind of answer Dracule could give you if you told him about your dreams, but you didn't want to keep anything from him, either. So, quietly, you tell him of your first dream. About running, the cities and fields of your home burning. The young man who carried you through the destruction of the island. It's hard to recall details, but you do your best to describe the symbol that you'd seen many of the attackers wearing. And finally, of seeing his sword with the literal cross guard and his hat.

The moment that you had described Big Mom's jolly Roger, an awful foreboding feeling had begun to creep in. Dracule knows what you are talking about. A time when he had been still young enough to make foolish, quick decisions that he would later on regret. How could this have happened? How did you survive?

Dracule tightens his hold on you, and his angel snuggles into his chest like he wasn't the savage who hadn't helped destroy her home.

Thankfully, you don't seem to find anything amiss with him, instead turning to look up at Dracule with sleepy eyes full of adoration.

“I know it's a long shot, but you wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?” You say, voice wavering and unsure. You blush and loom away, “I know it's kinda dumb since they are just dreams, but they feel so real.”

Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk decided then and there that this would be the only lie that he would ever tell you, for he leaned in and kissed your brow, “I'm sorry, Darling. I'm afraid I don't know anything about that.”

You nod easily, “I figured so, but I just wanted to make sure,” you place a soft kiss to his chest and Mihawk's heart aches in a way that he has never felt before. He isn't in the habit of feeling guilty, but right now? If you asked the warlord for anything, he would move the world to do it for you. For how could he not, when he was part of the reason you were stuck on this island?

Mihawk hums in response. He needs to distract you from this line of thought you seem to be stuck in, so he changes tactics. His hands press more fully into your plush skin, the innocent touches becoming a bit more forceful. Your hands flex against his chest, and Dracule takes that as permission to continue.

“Don't think about them, sweet thing. You are here, with me, now. And I am not going anywhere.” Mihawk swears quietly and grasps your hips, adjusting you so that you sit on his lap, legs resting on either side of his waist. Your face is scarlet, frost creeping along your arms, and Dracule rubs your exposed thighs in a soothing manner.

You nod quickly, eagerly. You don't want him to ever leave you, and would go with him if you could. But just the thought of leaving your island sends fear striking down your back and a voice shouting at you that you can never ever leave for your safety.

Dracule smirks up at you, “I'm glad we've come to an agreement, then,” he draws and tugs you down by your sleep shirt. You fall forward and catch yourself on the bed, and Mihawk leans in to capture your lips in a kiss that makes you forget about the less than pleasant memories.

The warlord sweeps his hands under your shirt, hands finding your nipples with ease and gently rolling the buds between his thumb and forefinger. You keen into his mouth, and Mihawk slips his tongue inside at the first opportunity.

He plays with you until your hips jerk against his own, and your eyes fly open when you feel the hard length of Dracule, separated by the thin fabric of both of your underwear. His hand finds your hips again, and he pulls you down as he rolls his own hips up, grinding up into your delectable heat.

The friction has you whining, eyes clenching shut as Dracule does it again and again. The man under you licks into your mouth, rhythm unhurried as he gives you a pleasure that you have not experienced before. He doesn't stop, and the heat in your lower stomach coils so tightly that it suddenly snaps, leaving you crying out and burying your face in the crook of his neck. Everything feels over sensitive, and it takes you longer than what it should to catch your breath.

Dracule says nothing, allowing you to come down from your high. His cock twitches from where it's still pressed between your legs, and it takes all of his willpower to not remove the offending layer so that he could feel how soft he knew you would be.

The pirate grits his teeth when you move, sitting up so that you can look down at him. He is flushed, chest a light pink under the thick hair that grows there. He watches as you lick your lips, eyes going half lidded, “What about you?” You murmur softly and meet his heavy gaze.

Just as Dracule was about to suggest something rather lewd, a loud whining came from outside the bedroom. Your expression drops, and Dracule can't help the sigh he lets out as he drops his head into the pillow. This would not be the first time that Hank has ruined the mood, and it definitely would not be the last.

“Go on, sweet thing. I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast,” Dracule assures you, and you lean down to steal a kiss from his lips before you slide off his lap. You dress quickly in a pair of leggings, but leave your sleep shirt unchanged for now.

He watches you disappear and then slings an arm over his eyes. He needed to think, your admission about your dreams, no memories, had shaken him. Mihawk knew who you were, at least he had a good idea of who anyway, and if Big Mom ever found out if you were still alive, Mihawk isn't sure if even he could save you from her wrath and the rest of her monstrous family.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #op mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #Peppermint Tea #plot is hard #plot is happening

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pupkashi · 10 months

Text

my you

gojo learns he moves stargazing

a/n: hi friends ! hope ur all well :] in honor of my you being released on spotify have this !! (also shameless txt insert hehe) i hope u all enjoy and plz let me know what you think !!! i love ready yall’s comments :(

wordcount: 1,063

masterlist

it didn’t take much begging for you to convince satoru to go stargazing with you. after being together for a little over a year, it’s one of the only dates you’d always dreamed of that he hadn’t realized already.

“it’s gonna be hot isn’t it” he pouted and you smiled, watching as he slipped a white t shirt on.

“it’s summer, what do you think?” you teased, giddy as you continued to curate the playlist on your phone.

“i cant believe four seasons have passed with you already” he sighs, a bit dreamy as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, resting his chin on your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“time really does fly huh?” you smiled, fondly recalling numerous memories from the past year. “remember when you set that picnic up for our first date and we got rained on” you giggled, satoru’s face flushed at the memory. even a year later he was mortified.

“stop that was so embarrassing! it was so sunny i didn’t think it’d rain” he whined, nuzzling his head into your neck, “cant believe you went on a second date with me after that mess” he smiled.

he remembers the soggy sandwiches and all too sticky candies, the way your hair was absolutely ruined as the rained poured down on the two of you, drenched to the bone when you reached the car.

“i thought it was kinda sweet how you tried to protect me from the rain” you smiled, the image of the then frazzled satoru coming to mind.

an hour later the two of you find yourselves in the car, satoru putting the very same picnic basket in the back seat, filled to the brim with food and blankets. he’s settling into the drivers seat and you rattle off items you made sure to not forget, smiling when he tells you everything’s there.

satoru had never gone stargazing. he can only recall looking at the sky after battles and thinking of how dark and lonely it was. glimmering stars miles and miles away from him. vague memories of times he’d brushed too close to death, laying on the ground and twinkling stars mocking him as his breathing became more shallow.

and now here he is, sitting with you on his car hood as the sun sets, the sky didn’t feel dark and lonely anymore.

there’s warm colors all around him, from the pinks and reds of the sky to the sage t shirt you were wearing. your smile felt warm as you complimented his sandwich, claiming ‘it must’ve been the love’ which he made it with to make it taste so good.

it’s twenty minutes after the sun had set when he realizes it’s blue hour, turning to you with a smile, “guess what hour it is” he grins, eyes sparkling as you immediately pick up his cues.

“blue hour!” you smile, giggling as the two of you break into song, laughing when one of you messes the lyrics up, blaming the other for singing too late.

a year ago he would’ve glanced at the outside, seen the blue hues painting the world and gone about his day. now he sees it and smiles, giddy anytime he reads ‘5:53’ on a clock. memories of the first time you told him it was ‘blue hour’ flashing in his mind, he didn’t really understand exactly what that implied but he shared your excitement either way, only later asking you what it meant.

your snacks are long gone when the stars begin to peek out from the dark blanket of the sky, twinkling ever so slightly when you look up.

“oh they’re so pretty!” you gush, a smile painting your features as you lean onto satoru, laughing when he tries to come up with new constellations.

“that’s the Big Dipper, that much I’m sure of” he states, a bit upset he didn’t have more knowledge to woo you with.

“i think that’s the Little Dipper” you laugh, taking his hand and pointing at the constellation a bit further, “that’s the Big Dipper.”

Gojo’s eyes are peeling away from the sky, instead looking at you, as if you held the stars in your very being. he’s humming in agreement as you make a comment about the stars, some insane fact you read about the other day. he’s hanging on your every word, savoring every passing second that he’s by your side.

when he looks up at the sky, the stars no longer mock him when they twinkle. instead it felt as if they were cheering for him, dancing for joy because he finally found someone to love with every fiber of his being.

your head is resting on his chest as the two of you lay down, soft conversation flowing easily, gasping when you both see a shooting star.

your eyes squeeze closed, your mind racing as you come up with what to wish for.

satoru’s eyes stay open, landing softly on you. his mind doesn’t race and he knows immediately what he wants. he wants to be with you for the as long as he could, to fall deeper and deeper in love with you. he wants four more passing seasons with you, and four after that, and after that, and after that.

he’s carrying your now sleeping body out of the car and into his home, placing you on the couch while he unloads the car. he wakes you gently to get you changed, smiling fondly at your sleepy state, brushing his teeth alongside you and smiling when you yawn as soon as your head hits the pillow.

“gnight toru” you mumble, “today was perfect” you smile, a bit sleepy as you cuddle closer to your lover.

“goodnight sweets” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, warmth encasing his body the closer to him you moved.

a year later it’s all satoru can think about as you’re closing the picnic basket, a smile on your face as you ask your lover if he’s ready to go.

he nods as you smile, the same glint of excitement in your eyes as you did a year ago, the same playlist with new additions playing as you drive out to the country side. the same stars the two of you visit ever so often awaiting the two of you with warmth.

#idk how i feel abt this one i cant lie #like i like it but ?#it feels a bit messy idkidk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo drabble

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captainremmington-13 · 4 days

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova becomes Mrs. Snow.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A VERY DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, verbal/physical abuse/domestic violence, mention of death and suicide, misogyny, Coriolanus being horrible, HEAVY ALLUSIONS TO SEX, NONCON, swearing

A/n: This was painful to write🥲

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

No matter what she did, Bellova couldn’t stop the silent screams that echoed throughout her mind.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

She’d fantasized about it as a little girl, laying in her bed wide awake when she was supposed to be sleeping, thinking about a beautiful, luxurious wedding held in her honor. How she’d carefully pick her bridal party, and go dress shopping with them, and pick out a gorgeous white gown to walk down the aisle in. How she’d meticulously write out her passionate vows, and how she’d recite them to her future husband while the entire audience struggled to hold back tears of joy. Perhaps she would shed a tear or two, but her blinding smile would distract from that. After kissing her groom, a large reception filled to the brim with all of her favorite foods and drinks would be held. She’d have the first dance with her new husband, and then take the dance floor with her beloved father, who would undoubtedly be hesitant to give her away. But he would, because he loved her, and wanted her to be happy.

As she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror of her dressing room, she knew that all of those dreams would never be fulfilled.

Half of them had already been crushed.

She had no bridal party. She didn’t get to choose her wedding dress. Her vows were generic and lacked any honesty. If she shed any tears while reciting them, they would be ones of despair. The kiss she shared with her husband would be for show, not because he really loved her. The reception and the first dance would be for the cameras and newspapers only.

And there would be no father-daughter dance.

Her husband-to-be had ensured that.

“You’re all set, miss,” the makeup artist said, setting down the brush that had been dusting powder across Bellova’s cheeks. “Do you feel comfortable in your gown? If you need anything adjusted, please let us know now. The ceremony will be quite long, and it will be less enjoyable if you are in any kind of pain.”

‘I am,’ the repressed voice inside of her wanted to scream. ‘I have been for almost a whole year.‘

Instead, she shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. I require no adjustments.”

Bellova looked at her reflection once more, and an invisible string forced her lips to smile.

The white silk wedding dress was a custom design, made specifically for her and only her to wear. The neckline, which was an off-the-shoulder cut, was lined with faux white roses. They were itchy, and in Bellova’s opinion, they looked extremely tacky. They were beautiful, but she knew they were only there to remind her who she belonged to. The dress laced up in the back, giving her waist a “snatching” effect. If it was tightened just a centimeter more, she was sure it would crack her ribs.

Besides the roses, she hated the ridiculously large bow at the bottom of the corset laces the most. It looked far too girlish for a grown woman.

But she had no say in the making of the dress. And she knew by now that protesting would only make her miserable life worse.

Her mind was dragged through hell and back every moment she was awake. Most of the time, she was morphed into a completely new person. She felt like a puppet being controlled by the devil himself, doing and saying things against her will. She only came out of this trance-like state at night, when the curse Dr. Gaul had planted on her was lifted temporarily. She would unleash her rage as quickly and violently as she could, throwing things and screaming profanities. Her captor had to make her bedroom soundproof, because her piercing cries would alarm the staff of the Reginelle estate.

One night, Enolio had burst into her room after hearing a loud bang and a scream. Bellova had thrown a punch at her fiancé but missed, giving him an opportunity to lift her up and slam her to the ground.

The next morning, when she awoke, she was back under the influence of the serum. A small voice suppressed deep in her brain screamed for her to ask what had happened to the butler, but she couldn’t get the words out. It was as if an invisible gag was stuffed into her mouth.

She never saw Enolio again.

“Could you give me a moment alone, please?” Bellova said to the makeup artist. “I’ll make my way to my designated place in a moment so the ceremony can begin.” The woman nodded, and left the room promptly.

As soon as she was alone, the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the three hours it took to prepare for the wedding finally came. She sunk down to the floor, shaking like a leaf.

It took all of her mental strength to fight against the hypnotizing drugs that had infected her brain. They threatened to take away any ounce of autonomy she had over herself, and if she allowed that to happen, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to regain it. It was if a thick fog had settled over her mind, and she had to constantly strain her eyes to see through it. If she let her guard down, she’d start believing she was truly the submissive girlfriend of the Snow heir.

She had to get out of here. By tying the knot, she’d be tying herself to him forever. That would mean that he won. That she had given up, and accepted her fate as his wife slave.

She longed to make a run for it, escaping the venue and heading for the Capitol border. But where would she go? She had nobody to seek shelter with. She wouldn’t make it far, anyway. Her dress was heavy and long, greatly restricting her ability to move. Peacekeepers or one of the guests would catch her before she got very far.

And after her fiancé got through with her, she’d be utterly, completely doomed.

She’d rather die by her own hand than his.

But suicide would mean that he had won. And she’d suffered for so long that she couldn’t bear to give him that.

No, she would live on. She would play along, for the sake of her own survival.

And when the perfect opportunity arose, she would strike. She would make him regret ruining her life and her future. She would laugh as he pleaded for mercy, and then bring him immeasurable pain.

But at the moment, she had a wedding to attend. Her wedding.

Bellova sighed, plastering a smile on her dolled-up face.

It was time for her to officially become Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova’s head spun.

Her dress was feeling more like a straight jacket every minute. Her high heels were digging into her Achilles, and she was sure they had broken the skin. Between that and the never-ending turmoil inside of her mind, she felt like she was going to faint.

She gasped for air as subtly as she could, as not to alert the hundreds of guests attending the reception. She didn’t want to cause a fuss and pay the consequences in private.

After all, she knew that Coriolanus wouldn’t hesitated to “discipline” her. He’d made that very clear during the past several month.

Her husband was seated mere inches from her, sipping a glass of champagne. A silver ring glistened on his left hand. It had been custom made, and matched Bellova’s perfectly.

She looked down at her own wedding band. It was borderline obnoxious, but it was fitting for a family as pretentious as the Snows. Each of the stones was clear with a slight blue hue, and they were arranged to resemble a snowflake.

It was her another way for Coriolanus to declare her as his.

Bellova finished her glass of wine. It was her third of the night, and she was starting to feel extremely foggy. She knew it was not the smartest idea to become inebriated on her wedding night, but it helped ease the physical and mental pain.

She kept her mouth sealed, only speaking to guests who approached the newly wedded couple to congratulate them. Even then, she only said a few words, giving them a polite “thank you for coming”. She did her best to look elated.

Part of her conscience, which had been overtaken by that wretched serum, truly was happy. It tried to convince her that she’d just tied the knot with the love of her life.

But deep down, she was fuming.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Coriolanus glance at his watch. It was nearing midnight, and most of the guests were beginning to retire to their homes. Soon, it would be time for them to leave as well.

But they wouldn’t be going back to the Reginelle estate. No, they would be taking a limousine to District Four, where their honeymoon suite was waiting for them.

Bellova’s stomach churned unpleasantly. She knew all about what usually happened during the first night of married life.

She knew she couldn’t resist Coriolanus without being tortured or drugged again. He’d just inject her with her nightly dose of the serum, and then she’d have little to no control over herself.

Should she try to enjoy it? She’d be lying if she claimed she’d never fantasied about sleeping with Coriolanus before.

But this wasn’t how she’d imagine it would be. Not in the slightest.

In her daydreams during her Academy days, she had imagined it would take place once Coriolanus finally stopped bitching at her. He’d realize how perfect she was for him, and would beg her to be his girl. And when they were both ready, they’d take things to the most intimate level.

But Bellova was fully aware that Coriolanus didn’t love her. If he did decide to sleep with her, it wouldn’t be out of love. It would be yet another of his acts of dominance, to reassure him that he was in control.

Bellova looked down at her lap to avoid her husband’s gaze, her heart sinking deeper into her stomach by the second.

Though she couldn’t see it, she could feel Coriolanus give her a cold, cruel smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Bellova thought she was anxious before the wedding, she had no idea what to call her current state.

Coriolanus had a vice-like grip on her left hand, and there was no indication that he’d release her anytime soon. This had started as soon as their driver announced that their destination was only ten minutes away.

He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they’d gotten in the limousine. Bellova had been slightly offended hurt by this. Shouldn’t a husband be happy to be in his wife’s company?

‘Stop being stupid,’ the small voice whispered. ‘He doesn’t give a fuck about you, he’s not going to even pretend he cares while you’re in private.’

Bellova slumped against the back of the car seat. She was still dizzy from all of the alcohol she had consumed, but refused to fully let her guard down.

Coriolanus could wreak unspeakable terrors on her if she stopped resisting.

As soon as she was alone with Coriolanus were alone in their luxury oceanside suite, Bellova felt the serum start to wear off.

Coriolanus picked up both of their bags and headed towards the bedroom. Bellova followed suit, metaphorically dragging her feet. He was still ignoring her, which forced a small pout into her lips. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that her beloved wasn’t paying her any attention.

The bedroom was lavish, but not nearly as nice as her own. The king-sized bed had white silk sheets, and the walls were decorated with oil paintings depicting ocean scenery. There was a large balcony overlooking the sea, which held two plush lounge chairs and a small glass table. Everything was so picturesque that it could’ve been straight out of a romance novel.

Alas, her life was anything but love story.

As soon as Coriolanus tossed his blazer in a hamper in the corner and began loosening his tie, Bellova felt her stomach constrict.

Was he actually going to fuck her?

Bile rose in her throat. She wasn’t a desperate little schoolgirl anymore, clinging to hopeless dreams. She was a victim, a victim of Coriolanus Snow’s unrelenting apathy.

No. She wouldn’t let him have his way with her.

The searing pain in her temples told her that she was now in full control of herself. She had to act before she was dragged back under again.

Bellova kicked off her designer heels, not caring in the slightest if they broke, and prepared herself for yet another grueling fight.

But before she could lunge at her enemy, Coriolanus’s head snapped towards her, making her freeze on the spot.

His shirt was already halfway unbuttoned. This didn’t phase her, she’d seen him naked several times before, but purposefully chose to forget those moments.

It was the hungry gaze in his eyes that made her blood turn to ice.

“You’re really going to do this now?”

The nonchalance in his tone made Bellova want to scream.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you going to fight like a rabid animal during the first night of our honeymoon?”

Bellova sneered at him. “A broken nose would match perfectly with your crimson tie, if I do say so myself.”

Coriolanus laughed humorlessly. “Hilarious. Now get undressed.”

Bellova’s fists clenched instinctively. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a stash of syringes full of that dreaded in his briefcase, she would have decked him in the jaw.

“No.”

Coriolanus rolled his pretty eyes, stepping towards her. She backed away, but her spine quickly hit the wall of the room. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mrs. Snow. Though it’s not like you have much of a say, anyhow.”

The way Coriolanus had spat out her new title made her flinch. It sounded so wrong, being called Mrs. Snow instead of Miss Reginelle.

“I don’t want you, and you don’t want me. Therefore, we don’t need to do anything tonight. It’s simple, really.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m fucking stupid,” Coriolanus barked. “If we don’t sleep together, people will talk. It’ll look bad for both of us. The press will say-“

“That’s all you care about these days,” Bellova said harshly. “And you’re assuming that the press will somehow know whether or not we fuck.”

The paranoia was evident in Coriolanus’s eyes. Clearly, this was a very important matter to him. Not because he actually wanted her, but because his shining reputation could be tarnished with rumors concerning their bedroom life.

“If you stop being a bitch for once, maybe I’ll let you stay off of the serum while we’re in bed, and I’ll consider making this enjoyable for you.”

Bellova rolled her eyes. He sounded like such an asshole, it was a wonder how he didn’t realize it. Or perhaps he did, and just didn’t care.

“What will it be?” Coriolanus asked sharply. “I’m not going to stand around waiting for much longer.”

An eerie silence filled the bedroom as Bellova weighed her options. She could attack him and do as much damage as possible before he drugged her. Or she could give in just for one night, and give herself a break.

She swallowed, and steeled her nerves. She knew exactly what she was going to do.

“Fuck this,” Coriolanus growled. His hand shot to her throat, squeezing so hard that Bellova could already feel the bruises forming. The familiar coldness of a needle poked at the skin on her neck, making her shudder wildly.

She hated it, but she was afraid.

“Please…” she croaked, clawing desperately at his arms. “Don’t do this…not again.”

A horrid scream escaped from her lips as Coriolanus inserted the syringe. She collapsed almost immediately, her face quickly becoming slick with salty tears.

Coriolanus carelessly lifted her up by the arms and tossed her on the bed. Devoid of any passion or desire, he flipped her onto her stomach and started unlacing the corset of her reception gown.

There was no gentleness in his touch.

There was only possessiveness and pure madness.

Bellova squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the pillow beneath her face becoming damp. The more skin Coriolanus revealed, the more disgusting she felt.

As much as she wanted to kick, scream, cry, anything to get away from him, she knew it was useless. The serum was already consuming her, swallowing her true self whole.

By the time he finally got her dress off, she was completely gone.

Coriolanus sucked in a breath, his fingertips ghosting over his bride’s bare thigh. She was already asleep, her body exhausted from everything that had happened throughout the day.

In their later Academy days, Coriolanus had briefly wondered about what Bellova was like in bed. There were quite a lot of rumors that circled around her regarding her sex life, but he knew most of them were fictitious. However, he knew she was no virgin. Bellova had admitted that at her seventeenth birthday party.

However, technically, he had been virgin. He didn’t count what had happened in the alley behind the train station years ago.

Coriolanus stared up at the ceiling, replaying the lustful activities he’d just partaken in in his mind.

It had felt…nice, he supposed. Bellova was pliant and sweet while he was on top of her, thanks to the serum. She had constantly begged for more, and initiated several kisses. He found the pleading quite annoying, and elected to ignore it. Still, she seemed to enjoy herself. He did as well, but found the power he could exert much more thrilling than any physical pleasure.

Coriolanus pulled Bellova’s sleeping form closer to him. He shuddered at the contact of her bare body pressed against his. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. She sighed contentedly, and fell limp again.

Coriolanus smiled.

He would ensure that this was part of their nightly routine.

And if Bellova didn’t like it?

Too fucking bad.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This chapter was truly heartbreaking to write. The next chapters won’t be this depressing, I promise. The next chapter will skip ahead to when Coriolanus is an office Gamemaker.

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! (I had to add some of y’all to a comment instead becuz tumblr won’t let me tag more people for some reason☹️)

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow x oc #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #original character #thg prequel #dark!coriolanus snow #suzanne collins

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themotherofblood · 11 months

Note

Hello! If applications for the Bloody Baby series are open, can I ask for an evening of stories? They are all together by the fireplace and the baby asks about their past as she is fond of history. And at your discretion, sex during the conversation.

absolutely yes!! I’m gonna do smut on the next one :) on this one and focus on the fluff, mainly because your prompt will be great for answering some questions about our lovely vamp daemyra! What, How, When? Thank you for the request. Also Chanel exists in Modern! Westeros. Do what you will with that info hehe

Vampire!Daemon x fem!reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

Warnings: mentions of murder, anti!green, mentions of genocide and blood (obviously)

You groaned awake, hearing the birds chirp outside and rays of sunshine bleeding in your bedroom. You stretched out your legs, whimpering at the gentle sting that made itsself very apparent. Patches of bandages stuck to your right inner thigh and left jugular. One on your wrist that only stopped bleeding as of yesterday. You shuffled off the bed, the floor under your feet was warm (heated) as you padded your feet over to the bathroom.

Daemon had ordered the attendants clearly, while he does enjoy your figure prancing around in just a shirt, visually your little human body looked much stirring in the pretty dresses Daemon and Rhaenyra had filled in your closet to the brim. At first you would gawk, terrified at all clothes. You doubted even blood donation for money could afford you such labels. Your newest excitement however was realizing the entire collection of Chanel ballet flats just casually laying at the bottom of the shoe shelf. You had with much joy, slipped on the baby pink pair over your white socks and headed out to breakfast.

Their head housekeeper had informed you that they had not returned yet. Rhaenyra and Daemon had headed out to hunt, while they relished the taste of your blood on their tongue. They could only drain you (safely) so many times, leaving a few days to let you recover and replenish your blood before sinking their teeth in once more. Rhaenyra found it mildly discomforting to be around you while she was hungry, a craving is one thing— hunger is death.

You felt like a kidnapped princess stuck in a castle, very much like Beauty and the Beast but Rhaenyra and Daemon were anything but beasts. While there had been no formal rules around the palace, you never ventured around it much. The first few weeks your anxiety tore at your so hard, if you weren’t awake and servicing the two of them or being fed on. You were sleeping, heart heavy and away in a dream world. You wondered often, what they did about the life you came from?

Your halted progression to a university degree, your part time job at the cafè, your mother—you wondered if she tried to cash out your life insurance yet. Your friends, they might have been the only ones a little worried, it felt like a child being grounded, having all your technology away. There was a theatre, they told you about it and yet you were too afraid to touch it. This wasn’t your home.

Once you had very throughly enjoyed your breakfast of eggs on toast, you would have taken a right from the main corridor back to your wing, instead you walked forward toward the east wing. It felt intrusive to do so but your curiousity began eating at you, living in a palace built nearly a thousand years ago. Every trim on the ceiling had a story to tell.

What you stumbled across was a gallery, of small paintings to giant seven foot paintings, over time you had hunch of who Daemon and Rhaenyra were. Their names so prevalent in history, in a world ages ago when this continent was known as Westeros, if the books were true. You pitied them. There was painting right at the end of the corridor, perhaps the biggest one hung. The fine oil painting, aged and masterful.

You could recognize Rhaenyra in it, sat with a swaddled baby in her arms with Daemon stood next to her. Three boys of brown hair, two boys of white. Two dark skinned little girls and a boy stood next to Daemon and a little toddler girl on the floor. Dressed to nines in gold and fine gowns. Their family.

“Curious?” Daemon’s voice boomed from behind you, making you flinch.

You turned to him sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as he approached you. “That- that’s you, isn’t it?” You asked. Daemon nodded, turning you back to the painting as he held onto your waist before turning your head to kiss your lips.

“That’s a lot of children,” you said as a matter of fact as Daemon resumed his daily need to suckle a bruise onto the crook of neck.

Daemon chuckled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as his nose took a long waft of your scent.

“Are they all yours?” your nosiness had you blurting your thought out. You bit your tongue the second you asked it. He nodded, “Rhaenyra birthed them all?” You eyes widened. “Bloody hell.”

Your horrified face was one of much amusement to Daemon, he knew of how little bloodline sentiments meant in this era. He wasn’t super keen into forcing one to have a child back in 120 AC, neither would he now if he could ever have them again. Your eyes squinted to read the little description etched onto the golden frame.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Royal Consort Daemon Targaryen and their dragon seeds,”

From what you had read about the ancient great houses, they would rather jump off of cliffs than not come up with macabre titles to do with their house sigils. You giggled, dragonseed. A tad dramatic but that was the beauty and irrationality of history, everything was of honour and blood then it seemed.

“You called your children dragonseed?” There was knowing glint in Daemon’s eyes as he quirked up a brow.

“No—no?” disbelief, pure disbelief.

You shriek as Daemon bent down to throw your body over his shoulder. You knocked at your legs “Daemon I wanna know!”

He carried you all the way upstairs, instead of turning left to your rooms, he carried you to his. He dropped you down by the fire place when Rhaenyra was already sat with a book in her lap. You pouted and Daemon, cheeks full as Daemon dropped a thick blanket down where you sat you sat in already a pile of thick furry blankets.

“What’s going on?” Rhaenyra asked, petting your hair and looking at Daemon in a questioning manner.

“I wanna know if dragons were real,” you looked up at Rhaenyra, hope glimmering all over your eyes, a childish dream come true. She looked to Daemon with an odd expression before pointing at a cabinet by the window.

A temperature controlled cabinet with four eggs each on its five shelves, they were the biggest eggs you had seen. You crawled up to go look at them through the glass, eggs of red, purple, white and green. Mouth gaped upon in shock, immortal royalty was cool but this— you could scream from the excitement bubbling in you chest. A wide grin spread across your face as you turned to look at them.

“Silverwing was real!” You chuckled in shock, leg bouncing as the happiness radiated off of you “you rode dragons!” You pointed at them as you waddled over to settle yourself on Rhaenyra’s lap.

“Do you know which ones?” Daemon asked, the ends of his mouth slightly curled upwards. This is the liveliest they had seen you since the party.

You nodded like a teacher’s pet, answering correctly for a piece of candy. “You rode Syrax,” you curled further into Rhaenyra as she kissed your temple. “And you rode the red wormy thing,” you snapped your fingers in the air to try and remember it’s name.

“Red wormy thing,” Daemon repeated, highly amused that Caraxes’s memory would be watered down to a red wormy dragon from the furious behemoth he was.

“Yeah,” you mellowed, still unable to remember his name “he had a wormy neck and a deviated septum, like me.” you told them as if they wouldn’t know.

You looked to Daemon apologetically “but you already knew that…since you know. You rode him.”

“Caraxes,” he helped you “and I do agree, he was a Wyrm.”

“Damn,” you whispered under your breath “so you just had flying nukes for pets. That’s crazy.”

You settled in with them, still blurting out questions as they came to mind. No history textbook or books you found at libraries had this much details about the subject, the world still counted it’s years from Aegon’s Conquest but they were gods, myths and statues rooted at temples. They were real, tangible blood, you were sitting on one right now.

“If they hatch, what would you do? Over throw the government?” you mused “we could use a Queen, maybe get better healthcare, climate change sanctions, and an extra government holiday.”

This time Rhaenyra chuckled, shaking her head. They had thought of it, though Rhaenyra had given up on any hope of those eggs ever hatching. The last of blood magic destroyed taking down the Night King other than what created their immortality.

“We could go back to Dragonstone, preserve their kind this time around.” Rhaenyra said, pulling the blanket up your shoulders. You hummed as a reply, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Nyra.” You whispered. Rhaenyra hummed in reply. “Has my mother checked in?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes scrunched as she looked to Daemon and then down at you. She shook her head, after leaving a very colourful message on your phone after Rhaenyra had texted as you; about going away on a vacation. There was nothing. As a mother she once was, she never understood the callousness of mothers these days, having children move out of their homes and pay rent.

You closed you eyes, body already heavy from the story filled daze you were in. That and the hearth lulling you, you held no expectation that your mother would mildly care, if Daemon and Rhaenyra were to have killed you. You doubted she would have even noticed.

Just as Rhaenyra and Daemon had just each other, the possibility of you having just them grew each day.

Thank you for reading!! I’m having so much fun with this AU.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Also lemme know if you wanna be added to a Taglist

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #vampire au #daemyra smut #daemyra vampire au #daemyra x reader #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #vampire!daemon #vampire!rhaenyra

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padfootagain · 6 months

Text

Something Good (XXII)

Chapter 22: Toothpaste

Hello! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series!

Alright, alright, alright, maybe I’m leaning too much into the cuteness, but I’ll soon put these two in ‘situations’ again, so for now, take one more disgustingly fluffy chapter, alright?

Hope you like it!!! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn, professor AU.!

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 2474

Masterlist for the series – Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Got home safely!

I’ll see you tonight, darling

You couldn’t refrain a smile as you read Ben’s text.

The Christmas tree still glimmered in your living room, even if the presents had been offered already. Sally was currently playing with the new dinosaur toys you had bought for her, fighting against the evil barbies trying to steal their lego house. You smiled fondly as you caught a glimpse of your daughter sitting there, on the ground, lost in her own intricate storyline.

You settled more comfortably in your sofa, glancing at the time and sipping on your tea.

Your mother would drop by in about an hour to get Sally. They were having a girls’ night together, a perfect occasion for you to have a date with Ben.

You read the same word over and over again, looking for an appropriate answer, but your brain was too busy chanting the pet name.

Darling, darling, darling…

God, you loved him so much, it should have been illegal…

Good to hear! Can’t wait to finally taste this chilli of yours you keep on bragging about.

I’ve missed you, can’t wait to see you tonight xx

It took him less than a minute to answer, with a picture of a paper bag filled to the brim with groceries.

Got everything I need to cook for you. Hopefully, I do a decent job, although you’re making it sound like I’ve created high expectations I am certain I will fail to attain.

Oh, and don’t forget to get some extra clothes and a toothbrush ;)

You were glad he wasn’t there to see how you shied away under his obvious innuendo.

Some clothes? A toothbrush? We’re feeling very confident, I see, Mr. Barnes…

His answer made you choke on your warm beverage.

I’ve been dreaming of all the things I’m going to do to you for over a week, darling. There’s no way you’re sleeping anywhere but in my bed tonight.

You giggled, kicking your feet in excitement and grinning like a bloody lovesick fool, before hiding your face in your hands.

God, he made you feel like a bloody teenager all over again, and you loved every second of it…

Waking up in Ben’s bed was strange.

A nice kind of strange, of course. Warm bed, soft sheets, his arm flung across your stomach, and his face relaxed in a quiet sleep. His dark hair stained the white pillow in messy strands. There was a quiet, almost shy light coming in from the window. Only a faint whisper came from the street. It was peaceful, warm, comfortable. But strange. It was your first time sleeping here. You had come to visit several times, of course, while you were still mere friends. But now there you were, wrapped in his linen sheets, listening to his steady breathing while under his eyelids his eyes moved with the rhythm of dreams. And you were happy to see this sight, to stare at him resting by your side.

Were you worthy of such a privilege, though?

Before you could lean into these thoughts, Ben was stirring, moving slowly at first, but then reaching up to rub remnants of sleep out of his eyes. When he blinked, a smile spread on his lips as he focused on you.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice much lower than usual in this early morning light.

“Morning,” you grinned back, leaning closer as he gently pulled you in his arms.

“Would you like some pancakes for breakfast?”

“Oh! Yes! Please!”

“Deal. I’ll go in a few minutes…”

“Why do I feel like a few minutes will turn into an hour?”

He chuckled against your hair, pressing kisses to the side of your head and temple.

“You’re starting to know me a little too well…”

“Hmm… You like cuddles too much to get out of bed quickly.”

“True.”

And indeed, you didn’t get up for a long while. You merely giggled, exchanged silly jokes, kisses and caresses buried under his warm blanket while outside, the world got buried under a thick layer of snow.

You got ready while Ben was making breakfast, taking a quick shower and getting dressed with the extra clothes you had brought. He peered inside the bathroom while you brushed your teeth.

“Pancakes are ready, darling,” he announced with a bright smile.

He walked inside, wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your hair while you kept on washing your teeth.

You winced once you were done.

“I hate your toothpaste.”

He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah… it tastes… I don’t know, it’s strong. Too minty. It’s burning my tongue!”

Ben let out a bright laugh.

“Burning your tongue?!”

“Yes! It’s terrible!”

“I like it.”

“I’ll bring mine next time.”

“Well, if you keep on insulting my toothpaste, I may not let you come here again. Don’t you know how touchy this subject is to me?”

It was your time to laugh, catching his glance in the mirror.

“Oh, I know. You tell me about it every day.”

“Every hour even!”

“What a strange obsession…”

You leaned back against him, letting him support your weight, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whispered, letting the quietness of the moment crystalise the gentleness that hung in the air. “I know you were gone for a mere week but still… it was strange not to have you around.”

“Yeah… I missed you too. My brother teased me a lot about it, actually.”

“Your brother?” you asked with a frown, turning in his arms to face him.

“Yeah, Jack. I told you about him…”

“Yeah, I know who your brother is… I… does that mean your family knows about me?”

Ben’s smile dropped, and he was cautious as he answered.

“Yes… I mean… they caught me on the phone with you. It wasn’t hard to put two plus two together. Does that make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No! You can tell whoever you want, I just… It’s only been a few weeks… I thought you’d wait for a bit.”

“They guessed, to be honest.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But… yeah, they know about you. Not the whole thing, just… the basics. How we met, that you’re a mother, that we were friends before giving this a try. You know, basic stuff.”

You nodded. He didn’t tell you that they were aware of the depth of his feelings for you though, that Jack had guessed that he was, in fact, in love with you. It was too soon for that.

“Besides, your mother knows. I wasn’t the first one to make a full report to my parents,” he joked, successfully making you laugh while you rolled your eyes.

“Right, of course… when you put it that way.”

There was a pause, when you lowered your gaze, staring blankly at the collar of his black t-shirt. You bit your lower lip in hesitation before speaking again.

“I think I’m going to wait a few more weeks to talk to Liam about us. Like… I don’t know… maybe let the first month pass. And if everything is still going fine by then, I’ll tell him. What do you think?”

Ben shrugged.

“He’s your ex. You’re the one to decide when you’re ready to tell him.”

“In the meantime, we can’t be too obvious in front of Sally. We’ll tell her after I’ve talked to Liam, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I’m not trying to hide or anything, you know?”

“I know. But we need to think about Sally too. And she’s a child: we need to be certain that this is going in the right direction before getting her involved in all of this.”

“I’m just trying to protect her.”

“I know, I get it. It’s okay. I agree with you.”

You rose to your tiptoes to kiss him, and you tasted grateful as your lips closed upon his.

“Well, I’m still waiting for my pancakes!” you joked, breaking the heaviness of the air, making him chuckle fondly at you.

“Actually, they’re waiting for you, my darling…”

Everything went smoothly, it was a little like a dream.

The holidays were over, time to go back to work, and in the whirlwind of finals, and busy schedules, you were still there.

Ben wasn’t certain why he was so surprised by it. You had started dating for about a month now, you were still deep in the honeymoon phase. The initial thrill filled with exciting sparkles and lovely surprises. Still, it didn’t stop him from being surprised by how everything was so effortless with you. Especially because it wasn’t.

He was taking care of Sally more and more with you. His bond with the girl was growing stronger with every afternoon spent playing with her and her dolls, with each messy painting session or adventure at the park. He had learned how to do her hair, the fastest way to tie her shoelaces, the most practical way to put on her coat. You let him take care of her meals now, and she rested in his arms as much as she did in yours when you watched her favourite Disney movies together. It felt more and more like co-parenting. And it was a lot of efforts, an incredibly difficult challenge, to see this pile of responsibilities growing.

And then there was the most basic things to organize and plan. Dates, re-organizing his life around your busy schedule. His quiet weekends were disturbed now by afternoons at the zoo and sleepless nights in your bed.

And he adored it. Every second of it. It was difficult, it was tiring, and it was the most natural thing, too. Fitting into your life was as easy as breathing. He didn’t know how much was due to the honeymoon phase, to the original excitement of a new relationship, or if it was really genuinely easy for him. Was he simply blinded by you? He wasn’t sure. What he did know, though, was that he was happy. Disgustingly so.

So much so that it was hard to hide it. It was hard not to smile when he thought about seeing you at lunch, or about this book he wanted to recommend you, or when he simply pictured your smile. It was even harder not to reach out to touch you when you were at work, to be unable to yield to these urges he had to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, to try to conceal the glances he stole whenever he could.

As you walked together to join the theatre club that afternoon, Ben couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn’t, because you were at work, in a corridor, where students could very much walk by and see the two of you, but he couldn’t help it. As he reached out to brush his fingers against yours, he couldn’t stop himself. Having physical touch as his love language could be something of a curse sometimes…

You gave his hand a squeeze, before letting go again.

“Not here,” you whispered.

“Sorry.”

You saw him blushing, looking away in a moment of shyness.

“It’s alright, but… not here.”

“I know. Sorry…”

“Are you free tonight, though? You could eat with Sally and I, and stay for a movie after?”

He smiled, nodding quickly.

“Sure, sounds nice!”

You were both grinning still when you reached the room and were welcomed by your excited students.

There was a lot of work to be done still. Some songs needed to be adjusted, you were still working on the rewriting of several scenes… and you got easily distracted by Ben’s marvellous voice as he sang along to help some students. And Ben was easily distracted by the peek he caught of your cleavage whenever you leaned forward a little too much…

And he didn’t even notice. The way he leaned a little closer to you, the way his eyes always settled on your frame, the way he kept track of your movements throughout the room. It was second nature, almost. He thought he was doing great at hiding his feelings and your relationship, he really did. And so, he didn’t catch on Nathaniel, Daniel and Roberta whispering together at one point. He didn’t understand why Giselle exchanged strange glances with several members of the club either. You seemed to have gathered more braincells that afternoon though, because you made sure to stay away from Ben for the rest of the session, to Ben’s disappointment.

And he noticed the distance that you were forcing between the two of you. Of course, he did, and if he reckoned that it was in an attempt to keep a low profile, there was a voice in his head that made him wonder if you were annoyed with him, if he had done something wrong…

He was quiet as you finished to clean up the room together. It was unusual now for the two of you to be standing in a room for more than a few minutes without talking, or at least acknowledge each other’s presence in some way. You closed the door before walking over to him.

“Ben, you’re alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You’re very quiet.”

“I was simply lost in thoughts.”

“Okay…”

He hesitated, his voice coming out as a whisper when he finally spoke.

“Are you… are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just fine.”

“We… we’re okay, right? I didn’t… I wasn’t annoying or…?”

“What? Of course not! What are you talking about?”

“You were avoiding me the entire session…”

You heaved a sigh, before reaching for his hand, cradling it gently in both of your palms.

“Sorry about that. But you were being pretty obvious, I didn’t want the students to catch up on us.”

You had a humorous smile on your face, the gentle kind that made Ben’s heart grow warm and mushy and melting beneath his ribs. He wanted to hold your face in his palms in the gentlest way possible, afraid he could break you somehow, and kiss you until it would kill him…

Instead, he merely blushed and looked away.

“Really? Was I?”

“Yeah, you were. That’s alright though. I simply had to save our arses. You were not as obvious as Nathaniel and Daniel though.”

“What?! Nathaniel and Daniel?!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! These two have been stealing glances the whole session!”

Ben blushed again as he spoke, but the words were out before he could properly think them. You had this power over him, and he kind of hated it. He couldn’t lie or control what was coming out of his mouth when you were around.

“I was distracted today. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

You looked away, before rewarding his words with a kiss on his cheek.

Alright, perhaps this power of yours did have nice consequences sometimes…

***************************

Taglist: @reg-arcturus-black @sergeantbuckybarnes @wolfmoonmusic @idek-what-to-put @kpicard @rhapsodyonthethames @friendly-philosopher

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fic #ben barnes series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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sprnklersplashes · 6 months

Text

I'll crawl home to her: on his deathbed, inej asks kaz to stay. who is he to deny her?

whumptober: flatline/don't go where I can't follow

prologue (ao3)

cw: coughing blood, major character death

Many have speculated about how Kaz Brekker will die. The most popular was that his dirty deeds would catch up to him and that when he did die, it would be because he had finally bitten off more than he could chew. There were those in the Barrel who thought they would best him, be the champion who took down Dirtyhands. Some believed he would go out as he lived; a weapon in his hand and blood on his shirt.

And then, there were the rumours that Kaz simply could not die. It was certainly plausible; after all his close brushes with death, the daring escapes that shouldn’t have been possible, it had become a serious rumour in the Barrel that Kaz Brekker was simply immortal, and anything that tried to kill him would simply slide away.

Well, Inej has the answer now. Kaz can in fact die, and what kills him is not a random act of violence or a righteous hero. It’s an illness; one that made a home for itself some time ago in Kaz’s lungs and stayed unnoticed, hidden in plain sight. And Kaz went about his days, scheming, collecting, heisting, all unaware that the parasite had embedded itself in his body. When the cough developed and never left, he brushed it off as a mere cold. When his chest rattled as he breathed, he simply tightened his coat and told them he was fine.

When he began coughing blood… he hid the handkerchiefs from them.

She’d cursed him at the time. Damn you Kaz she’d shouted, throwing the bloodied rags in his face. Why the hell would you do this? Why would you hide this from us? Kaz remained silent, eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. It was only after she had stormed out of his room in a rage that she realised he had been crying and she fell to her knees.

Kaz doesn’t cry.

Inej went back into his room, and he told her everything. And since then, they had taken each day as it came. Kaz coughed more, Inej prayed. Kaz wheezed while walking, Inej prayed some more. Kaz collasped in the middle of the Crow Club, Inej spent six hours in the chapel, reciting every prayer she’d been taught a hundred times over.

Slowly, Kaz was spending more and more days in bed, gradually growing too weak to even stand properly. Eventually, he relented and let her bring in a medik, who did nothing but listen to his chest and then confirm their worst nightmares.

“Make the most of the time you have with him,” they had told her.

That night, Inej climbed the church spires and screamed until her throat was raw.

Afterwards, she moved into his bedroom. Neither complained, and so they both stayed, him sleeping and her praying, as the new reality crept in and made them both prisoners. Inej would watch as her Kaz, her brilliant, ruthless Kaz, slipped further away from her. His eyes grew dull, his skin white, his frame reduced to skin and bones, until little remain but a shell of the boy she’d met at the Menagerie.

And all that brings them to right now. Inej sits at the foot of Kaz’s bed, dagger clasped in her hands, and begins another cycle of prayers. In the background is the ever-present sound of his wheezed breathing, along with the scattering of rain against the window. Inej touches the tip of the blade with each finger, her Saint’s names muttered under her breath.

“Inej.” The weak, strained sound of her name has her discarding her thoughts, her heart leaping to her throat. Kaz’s brows are furrowed, his pale lips pressed in a thin line. He shifts, legs twitching beneath hers, and his chest stutters like a failing engiene. He frowns, gasps, and tries again, “Inej.”

“I’m here.” In a heartbeat, she sheaths her dagger and crosses the bed until she’s beside him, brushing his hair from his face. It’s hard to tell whether he’s awake or dreaming these days, but either way, she’ll be at his side. “I’m here, Kaz, it’s okay.”

It takes some more laboured breaths before Kaz can open his eyes. Just as he does, a coughing fit storms through him, causing the whole bedframe to tremble. Swallowing her panic, Inej grabs his outstretched hand, and continues to stroke his hair, his cheek, all the while telling him it will be all right. Her muttering continues, even when the coughing turns wet and a new instinct kicks in. One hand pulls him into a sitting position while the other snatches the cloth from the table to hold against his lips. As he shudders against her, her arm is around his shoulders, her knuckles grazing his hair. The fabric muffles the sound, but the bed continues shaking. Like a little dinghy caught in a vicious storm.

When the coughing becomes hacking, Inej buries her face in his hair and presses thoughtless kisses to his head. It should be to comfort him. But the reality is less selfless than she likes; she can’t bare to see the crimon that stains the cloth.

Eventually, his shaking slows and the coughing dies down. Inej waits until its completely quiet before daring to lift her head. The cloth in her hand is almost completely scarlet. It squelches in her palm, blood oozing between her fingers.

Quickly, Inej discards it, wipes her hands clean and returns to the bed. As she sits down, legs crossed, her hands are closed into tight fists.

Kaz is at least settled, pillows wedged between his back and the headboard. At first glance, he looks peaceful, but then she sees how pale is skin is. Even in the weak light, he looks almost translucent, punctuated by dark shadows beneath his eyes and a faint blue tinge to his lips. His watches her, eyes unfocussed, head cocked to one side. Low, shallow breathing fills the silence, minute by minute, until Kaz has the strength to talk.

“You’re sad.” Inej shakes her head. Her hair falls over her shoulders.

“No I’m… I’m fine.” She looks up, forces herself to smile. Her hands remain clasped between her knees. “How do you feel, Kaz?”

He blinks at her, processing what she had said. Inej tries to think how he’d form entire heists in mere seconds. People had called him the most brilliant mind in Kerch.

He still is a fierce voice tells her. But that mind has been slowed by illness, by the medicines she’s tried and failed. A simple question now takes far too long to answer.

“M’alright,” he says. His hand, ungloved, moves across the blankets and sits atop her knee. She doesn’t know exactly when he took the gloves off. But when she rests her hand over his, carefully, slowly, he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he nods, and she thinks she sees him smile.

Rain falls in steady, heavy sheets against the window, saving them from complete silence. She won’t force conversation, not when words feel so useless and talking takes so much out of him. She makes herself content and waits until he feels strong enough.

“You were praying.”

“I always pray,” she says with a shrug. Kaz nods and hums in agreement and at first she thinks that’s all there is to it.

“What were you… praying for?” he asks. It’s a trick question. Inej bites her tongue to hold back the curses, because you already know Kaz, why are you making me say it?

“I’m praying for you to get better,” she tells him. “So that when you do, I can laugh at you for ever mocking my Saints.” He nods then, the movement so miniscule anyone else would have missed it. When he breathes out, its unsteady, laboured, his face tight like he’s refusing to scream. Before now, she had never heard such a thing come out of a human being.

While he gathers himself, she touches her concealed knife and prays again.

“Inej…” he begins. He gasps, licks his chapped lips, squeezes her hand. Very slowly, as if it’s made of lead, he lifts his other hand and places it over hers. It’s cold as ice, colder even, but Ketterdam has made her very good at staying still.

“Inej,” he says again. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know,” she tells him. She nods, smiles, even if none of it feels real. It’s all just orders to brain sends to her face. “I know. You’ll get better, and it’ll be okay.”

“No… Inej.” Kaz pushes himself up then, and panic catches like a match on a tinderbox. Before she can think, her hand is on his shoulder, helping him into whatever position he needs. He looks up at her, gasping, wet eyes glistening in the candlelight. “Inej… you’ll be alright.”

And now it’s her turn to blink. She turns the words over in her head, wondering what he could mean, wondering if he’s dreaming. Then, the words solidifies, and she jerks as if he had slapped her.

“No,” she tells him. “ We will be alright-”

“Inej-”

“You’ll get better,” she tells him. “And if I have to fight the Saints themselves, then I will.” Her voice trembles, such conviction that she surprises even herself. “I will not lose you, Kaz.”

“Inej…” he mutters. “I don’t… I don’t want to… leave you like this.”

“Then don’t,” she replies. She sniffles, swallows the lump in her throat. In one quick motion, she plants her knees on either side of his legs, their hands still clasped. “You don’t have to.”

“I… I might.” Inej freezes. Kaz has rarely done anything he did not want to do, much less admitted to it. He ducks his head, squeezes his eyes shut. When he tries to breathe, chokes on it. Dry coughing shakes his shoulders and makes tears gather in his eyes. Inej rubs his back, whispers assurances, holds a cup of water to his lips.

And though its superstition, she looks over her shoulder, as if Death might be standing in the doorway to take him.

When he finally finishes, his head falls back and his eyes slide closed.

“Might be… time…” he pants. “Time to… pay the debts…” The words trail off, blurring into a drowsy haze. For a moment, she freezes, a sob or scream caught in her throat. Then she hears the rattle of his chest, sees the flutter of his lashes, and she forces it down.

Soundlessly, she pulls herself a few inches closer. If he wanted, their foreheads could touch. After a nod from him, she takes his face in her hands.

“Stay,” she pleads, repeating the words he said to her so very long ago. Her throat feels so dry, but she makes herself say it. “Stay here. Stay with me.” Despite his closed eyes, he smiles, though it’s little more than a twitch of a muscle. Slowly, his arm comes around her waist. She doesn’t miss how he sinks into the mattress as he does so. One gesture took so much from him.

Kaz coughs again and she moves to get him water. Before she can though, he pulls her closer and moves so that his nose rubs hers. It took her by surprise, the first day he did that. She had laughed and told him he was like a kitten. Kaz hadn’t commented but afterwards it wormed its way into a million little moments between them. It brings her back to before this illness, the quiet moments they never thought they’d have.

With his face in her hands, Inej wills the moment to stay. For them to just be this, a girl cradling a boy’s face in his bed.

“Please,” she begs him. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You could… follow anyone… anywhere,” he wheezes. He whimpers. “But… maybe not… this time.” He coughs again, heavy as the rain outside. In seconds, she grabs a clean cloth and holds it to his lips. Blood doesn’t come this time, Instead, she dips it in water and cools his flushed cheeks.

As it subsides, Inej settles him back against the pillows. His chest is heaving now, and a low graon escapes him as he curls inward. For the first time, Inej forces herself to keep looking at him. Regardless of the guilt piercing her heart, she must keep watching him. Because he is still here.

Blindly, his hand reaches and she takes it between her two, rubbing the skin like she can force warmth back into him. Slender fingers curl around hers and hold tight. Before he fell ill, he had started pressing kisses to her knuckles. When his hand twitches, Inej thinks for a moment he may be about to again. Perhaps he was. But then he grunts, wheezes, and their clasped hands remain still upon his chest.

Inej’s throat tightens. She tightens her jaw and bites her tongue until she tastes metal. She will not cry because he can’t kiss her anymore. She will not. It’s not about her.

(But how much of him has this illness stolen form her?)

Between her knees, Kaz’s legs shift. Inej stirs in time to see his eyes open weakly and his gaze turn towards the window. As watery light falls over his face, Inej finds herself wishing he’d look away. She doesn’t want to see the hollowness of his cheeks, or the red tinge in his eyes. But at the same time… he’s almost smiling. These days that smile is rarer than shooting stars. Can she really want to take this from him?

“It’s… it’s stopped… r-raining,” he gasps. Her hand in his, Inej turns and, for some reason she’ll never know, a faint smile touches her lips. It has indeed stopped, and what’s more; the sun now peeks through the clouds in small, silver bursts. It catches the raindrops on the glass, and an array of shimmering colours falls onto the windowsill. Their own little rainbow, she thinks.

“Yes,” she says softly. “It has-”

She turns, possibly to say something else or maybe to show him the rainbow, but the words halt in her throat. Kaz’s eyes have closed, his lashes resting against his gaunt cheeks. His hand is stiff around hers. Blood pools at the corner of his lips. Dazed, Inej rests her hand on his chest. Beneath her palm, there’s no beat of a heart, no broken breathing. Just silence, stillness.

Ever-patient, Inej waits. Just as she used to wait for a signal, she waits to hear something from him. She waits, blinks, waits some more. She counts. One minute. Two minutes. Three.

Four.

Five.

“Kaz?” Inej makes a small, choking sound. She sees, rather than feels, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He doesn’t react to her touch. Under her touch, his skin is cold, and hard. Like marble.

“Kaz?” she asks again, even though she already knows. It’s just her and a body, and Kaz Brekker is, at long last, gone.

Slowly, Inej falls to the bed. She moves as if following instructions; her arm wraps around Kaz’s waist, her head on his chest, her leg hooks around his. It’s the way they always are, the way they have learned and helped each other to be. It was this very room where they began shedding their pasts, piece by piece, intending to build something with what was left behind. It was here they began exploring themselves and each other, taking risks, being bold. Moving forwards, stepping back. Offering, giving, searching, finding things in each other they never thought possible. After those months and then years together, there was still so much left for them to do. A road untravelled, now closed off to her. Forever.

They were meant to have more time.

It’s only when a wet patch grows on Kaz’s shirt that she realises she is crying. Silently, endlessly, a way she hadn’t done since she was fourteen and realised no-one was coming to save her. Hopelessness comes to meet her, just as it did then, and when it slithers beneath her skin, she knows without doubt it will stay.

She lifts her head and looks at Kaz again.

“You were meant to stay,” she tells him. She balls up his shirt and says again, “You were meant to stay!”

If he is sorry for leaving her, he doesn’t show it. There’s just her, and the tears that fall like rain against his cold skin.

#six of crows #six of crows fanfic #kanej #kanej fanfic #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 16 #yes i am very late thank you for asking #after 6 proofreads its here!!

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kachikirby · 3 months

Text

Romantic Season

Story for Valentine's Day! Hope you all enjoy!

]After a half-hour trip in a star ship, Meta Knight stepped out onto the planet Patlantic with a small bag in hand. He adjusted the brim of his fedora and sunglasses in response to the sudden amount of sunlight.

“Well, we made it, Fetty.”

His wife, Fettuccine, exited the ship, nicely dressed in a blue dress for the occasion. “Oh, it’s as beautiful as I heard!”

This was the city of Pavega, one of the major vacation destinations in the galaxy. There were many restaurants, shops, casinos, and even a massive, picturesque boardwalk and beach that made it so popular. However, the place they were going to be staying at was one of the most luxurious in the city, Sparkling Seas Beach and Resort. The blue puff turned to Fettuccine.

“Would you like me to take your bag?” He asked, only to be picked up by her.

“No, this is my gift to you, so you should relax and enjoy.” She then took a deep breath, enjoying the ocean air. “Well, this sure beats handmade chocolate, doesn’t it?” She giggled.

“Anything from you is enough of a gift for me.” Meta replied in such a matter-of-fact manner that Fettuccine nearly stumbled due to how flustered she was by that response.

“…silly bat.” She mumbled, getting only a smile in response.

* * *

After getting checked in, the two went to their hotel room, which Meta was even more surprised, being a massive blue-themed suite with a king-sized bed, stellar views of the beach below, and even a giant hot tub in the room.

“Fetty, how expensive was this? I think I’ll have a hard time returning this three times the value on White Day…” Meta uttered, removing his sunglasses before examining the gift basket that sat on the massive bed.

“I’m not telling!” She giggled. “Besides, I rather you not worry about the price! My Metty only deserves the best!”

He couldn’t help but blush in response to that. “I… feel the same way about you…” He uttered, adverting his gaze slightly as he opened the fridge. He looked in it to see an all too familiar dish of chocolate fondant in a time capsule case.

“…now I know who helped pay for this.” He uttered, quickly reading the attached note from his mother, Kurabe. Before he could say anything else, he felt himself being picked up by Fettuccine, who then hopped onto the bed, holding him tightly as they locked eyes with each other.

“So, what do you think?” Fettuccine asked.

“Well… um… it’s amazing… I’m kind of overwhelmed by how big and luxurious it is…” He spoke a bit awkwardly, sounding slightly nervous. Of course, he wasn’t a big fan of flashy events or places. Only flashy battles. His wife seemed to frown a bit, showing signs that she was slightly afraid that he didn’t like it.

“I do like it though. It’s just a bit more upscale than what I’m used to…” He added, causing her worries to wash away. “Besides, I think it’s been a while since we’ve gone on a vacation as a couple… I hope Vul can handle Sieg and Freya…”

“They’re good kids. He’ll be fine.” His wife said before once more holding him close. “But for now, let’s focus on each other.”

“Yes, I know. It’s not just Valentine’s Day, but the anniversary of when we first started dating…”

Meta remembered that day well. It started with Kirby coming to him about his feelings for Ribbon and it led to him being forced to confront his own feelings about Fettuccine, how he often thought of them living together, how he had started to think about her more and more since Task Force Zetta first came to Dream Land. How he was dragged in the middle of the night to the VictoriousArc to speak to her about them, leading to him finally being able to tell her “I love you” with the same feelings she held for him. How it led to their relationship rekindling, dating, getting married, and now having children of their own.

As he was lost in his thoughts he felt the taste of cocoa enter his mouth and looked down to see Fettuccine’s finger.

“I did also make chocolate for you. It’s just a bonus on top of this vacation.”

Meta couldn’t help but smile at her. The woman he grew to love so dearly. He place a hand on her cheek.

“Fetty, I love you so much.”

His wife smiled and gave him a gentle kiss. “I love you too, Metty.”

#metaccine #fettuccine kirby #meta knight #kirby oc #short story #valentines day #art of rikka

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luxwazhere · 9 months

Text

🦈 Gantu & Reuben: Regret 🥪

Summary :: Gantu gets angry at Reuben, then feels remorse.

Warnings :: Fighting, light swearing, physical touch.

Notes :: This isn't a shipping fic!! More of just Gantu and Reuben being besties :3

The sound of jar scraping and whisper-humming could be heard from the kitchen of the former Captain Gantu's ship. Reuben, his little sandwich sidekick, was slathering strawberry jam onto a price of bread, while another piece of bread covered in peanut butter sat next to it. He hummed happily as he finished up spreading the jam on the piece of bread, then placed it ontop of the bread with peanut butter. Just as he was about to push the sandwich into his mouth, he heard the sound of the elevator whirring.

Gantu appeared after a moment at the top of the elevator. His hands were balled into fists and he had a sour look of his face.

"Aww, lemme guess. You got your butt kicked by that little girl and my cousin again?" Reuben said with a teasing look as he took another bite of his sandwich. Gantu turned around and scowled at him, getting right up in his face. "Why don't you shut your trap before I pummel you?!" Reuben squinted his eyes and raised his eyebrows at Gantu and responded with; "Yeah, yeah. Okay blubber butt."

Gantu rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. He turned to go to his room, but saw the mess in the kitchen.

"What the hell is this?!" He said as he put the dirty dishes and silverware in the sink. "I just came back from a hard day of work, and now I have to clean up some sandwich trog's mess?!"

Reuben shrugged. "I was hungry."

"You're always hungry!!" Gantu responded.

"I mean, that's my purpose. Oh, and what a wonderful purpose is is." The little yellow experiment jumped down from the counter and walked towards the couch, grabbing the remote. Gantu saw him do this and glared at him.

"Don't even try to watch anything. Doctor Hamsterveil cut the cable." He sighed. "Again?? Wowzer. Buddy, you gotta start catching these experiments so I can watch my sandwich channel."

Gantu balled his hands into fists once again as he heard Reuben. "Well then, why don't YOU try capturing a damn experiment??" He spat back as he picked up Reuben with one hand. But before Reuben could get a word out, Gantu continued. "Ohh wait I know why! It's because your a failed prototype of 626!! FAILED!!! Nobody needs you! I don't need you! Just get OUT." As Gantu finished his rambling, he dropped Reuben back on the couch and stomped away to his room.

Reuben sat on the couch in shock. He usually didn't care when Gantu, or anybody in fact, fought with him. He always used humor to win. But hearing that not even Gantu needs him? Oh.

Maybe he's right.

Maybe he should just leave and never come back.

...

Nah, he's too lazy for that. So he snuggled up in the corner of the couch and fell asleep, most likely dreaming about sandwiches.

Inside his room, Gantu sat on his bed. Just fuming at the thought of the little yellow trog. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to collect his thoughts.

Although his exterior showed that he absolutely hated Reuben, on the inside it was totally different.

He wished Reuben were here in his room right now, laying next to him like a little pet while watching their favorite reality show together.

After about 10 minutes past of Gantu sitting on his bed, lost in thoughts, he got up and went into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and saw it stacked to the brim with bread. On the outside of the cabinet door, a sticky note that read "Bread" in messy handwriting was placed. He softly smiled at the thought out Reuben placing the piece of paper there.

Gantu pulled out two slices of bread, some bacon, blankets of lettuce, and a few tomatoes. He placed all the ingredients on the first slice of bread together and topped it off with the last slice. Then, he carefully put it on a small, white plate.

He smiled, admiring his work. "Reuben will like this, won't he?" He thought to himself.

Gantu walked into his living room area since it was the last place he saw Reuben. And of course, there he was. Snuggled up on the couch. Gantu placed one of his big hands on Reuben and shook him ever so slightly to awake him.

After a bit, Reuben's eyes reluctantly opened and stared back at Gantu. He opened his mouth to say something, probably a sassy remark, but Gantu stopped him by placing a finger on his mouth.

"I know, I know." Gantu started. "I... Uh..."

He looked down at the little yellow trog, remembering his words.

"...I'm sorry. For what I said, I mean." Gantu broke eye contact and looked away. "I do care about you. A lot, actually." Realizing he sounded soft and that he was breaking his tough exterior, he added on. "I mean... you're my only 'friend.' So, of course I care about you. I-I guess. ...I appreciate you. Thanks. For... Sticking around and everything." As Gantu finished, he softly patted Reuben's head and put the plate down on the couch.

Reuben smiled his big silly smile and grabbed the sandwich. "Aw, thanks 'G!" He said in an almost joking way, but his feelings said different. Moving into a more serious expression, he continued. "I appreciate it big guy." He placed his tiny paw on Gantu's arm. Gantu gave him a wide, genuine smile as Reuben hopped up onto him and sat on his shoulder. "Oh... By the way, I recorded your silly little soap opera show."

Gantu's face lit up "Really?? Well... Uh... if you'd like to watch it we can." The little yellow experiment on his shoulder patted his horn. "Yeah, of course big guy."

The rest of that night was used up with Gantu and Reuben watching their soap opera. They shared sandwiches together, taking bites out of each others and rating them. Reuben snuggled up in Gantu's arm while watching together despite the splash zone above him of Gantu's tears.

"G. It's not that deep. What's even goin' on here? Who fell into the coma and cheated on that blonde chick again?"

"*SNIFFFF*.... IT WAS ASHLEY!!!! HOW DO YOU NOT REMEMBER??? WAHHHH!!!!!" Gantu said as he blew his nose for the millionth time. Reuben rolled his eyes playfully as Gantu hugged him even tighter while he cried.

They ended up going to sleep together at 2 in the morning. Gantu's big body was sprawled across his bed, his arms holding his fluffy little sandwich loving friend.

#FINISHED IT!!!#not super proud of this one #but still #lilo and stitch #l&s #lilo and stitch the series #captain gantu #gantu #reuben #reuben lilo and stitch #reuben625 #experiment 625 #Fanfic

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kringletheelf04 · 1 year

Text

Christmas sucks and dad killed Santa (chapter 2)

Finally we were home after a mediocre dinner at Dennys. I drag my feet as I enter the threshold of the house. I'm the last to enter and the last to get my pajamas on. I may be an adult but I still wear onesies. My pjs of choice are a pink rabbit with a white tail. It resembles the one off of a Christmas story. It was mom's favorite movie of all time so I wear it Christmas Eve each year to honor her memory.

I lean into the doorway of Charlie's bedroom. Dads reading the night before Christmas and Charlie has just about a million questions.

"When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter, l sprang from my bed to see what was the matter away to the window I flew like a flash.With a miniature sleigh and St. Nick and Prancer and Dancer and to all a good night." Dad recites the book, practically from memory, as he had since I was Charlie's age.

"What's that?" Charlie questions our dad.

"What's what?" Dad asks, clearly confused.

"A rose schuck ladder!" Charlie says with wide eyes.

"It's not a ladder. He said, 'arose such a clatter.' It means, eh, 'came a big noise.'" I clarify.

"What?" Charlie scrunches up his face still confused.

"Charlie, ‘arose’ is a word that means 'it came’, and 'clatter’ is a big noise." I reiterate.

"Yes and now it's time to go to bed" dad agrees as he tucks Charlie into his bed.

He turns to me and takes in my pajamas and holds back a snicker.

"Gotta problem with my duds old man?" I joke at him.

Charlie giggles and snuggles in deeper into the covers.

"No problem at all, squirt. Just makes me think is all." Dad replies with a small, sad smile. Tears are brimming in his eyes that threaten to spill.

"Come on, let's get to bed! If we want Santa to come we need to be asleep!" I usher dad out and into his room and walk to mine.

Soon I hear a gentle knock on my door just as I'm ready to snuggle in.

"Sissy (y/n) can I sleep in her with you? Dads snores too loud and I can hear it through the wall!" Charlie practically wails.

I know he just wants to make sure I'm ok but I pretend to buy it nonetheless.

"Come on sport! Let's snuggle and fall asleep to some nice music." I say swooping him into my arms and sitting us onto my queen size bed. Too tall for him to reach on his own without a stool. I put on some Mozart and we drift away.

(TIME SKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY RED RYDER BB GUNS! YOU'LL SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT KID!)

I am abruptly woken by Charlie shaking me. This is not what I signed up for when I said he could sleep with me.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)! I heard a clatter!" Charlie yells.

I slowly open my eyes and ask "What? Charlie, what are you talking about?

"You know! From the story! It came a big noise. It's coming from outside"

I start to say it might be the wind until I hear a loud noise too. Kinda like a ka-thump. The the sound of boots on the roof. I jump out of bed taking Charlie with me. I run as fast as I can to dads room.

I practically take the door off its hinges. My heart is pounding out my chest.

"Dad you gotta get up now! Someone's on the roof!" I say setting Charlie down rushing to his bedside.

"What (Y/n)? Someone on the roof? That's impossible. You probably dreamt it. Go back to sleep." Dad begins but gets cut of by more footsteps. Now he's wide awake.

"I guess it wasn't a dream dad," I huff at him

"Now is not the time for the sass (Y/n), someone's on our roof. Come on we'll go outside. Put on your shoes and coat quickly!" He says while pulling on some socks while quickly hobbling to his bedroom door and down the stairs.

I pick up Charlie again because I know I'll be faster carrying him than waiting for him at the bottom of the flight of stairs.

Throwing on a coat, boots and a winter hat onto both of us with Charlie still holding his blanket.

I rush out after dad and Charlie follow suit.

Dad yells something I can't make out to the person on our roof. Suddenly they slip and plummet onto the lawn as I quickly shield Charlie from the sight.

"Oh my gosh! You killed him!" I yell running through the slushy snow to where the man lay. However, all that was there was his clothes.

"You got him!" Charlie cries out, running, and nearly tripping to get to me.

"I did not! He's gotta be here somewhere! Let's check for some Id to see who this poor shmuck was." Dad argues now riddling through the pockets of the red coat.

"That almost looks like-" I start

"Look (Y/n)! Reindeer!" Charlie interrupts me pointing to the roof.

Lo and behold eight reindeer and a sleigh are parked on our roof.

"(Y/n) come here! I found something!" Dad calls after me.

I approach him and take a small business card from his gloved hand.

"lf something should happen to me, put on my suit. The reindeer will know what to do. What does that mean?" I read from the card and inquire to dad.

He shrugs and Charlie comes to us. "That means you gotta put it on dad!"

"No we are not going anywhere!" Dad asserts poorly.

"We never do what I want to," Charlie says, his eyes watering.

I hug him from behind and glare at dad .

"Look! The rose schuck ladder! Like from the poem!" Charlie beams at both of us.

"I'm going to call the police, please watch your brother for a minute (y/n)." Dad pleads and scurries off to get his phone.

Before I can even blink Charlie is now on the roof trying to touch a reindeer. I follow after him in a hurry.

"Charlie! (Y/n)! Get down from there! I thought you were watching him!" Dad yells at me. It's a miracle the neighbors haven't woken up.

"Dad, it's amazing! Come up here!" I yell down at him.

He runs to the ladder and climbs up, suit in hand.

"You need to get away from ghost things! They could have key lime disease!" Dad panics as he walks carefully towards Charlie. "Easy Rudolph" dad says to the reindeer.

As clear as day the reindeer says "I'm not Rudolph." I look to my dad to see if he also heard but he's just looking at its nametag.

"It's Santa's sleigh!" Charlie jovially says while climbing into it.

"There's no such thing as Santa's sleigh" dad scoffs.

"Sure there is. You said you believed in Santa, right dad" I nudge him.

"I did" he questions then covers his tracks with "I do!"

Dad climbs into the sleigh and I follow him. The seats are much softer than they look.

"Hey dad look! A hat!" I say pulling a plush Christmas hat from in between the cushions. I gently place it on my head after inspecting for lice. It's warm and cozy. The ear flaps are extra padded with faux fur.

"Oh great you found a bug infested hat! Oh how joyous! Let's get out now please" dad practically pleads with Charlie.

"No!" Charlie shakes his head making his hair get in his eyes.

"Come on Charlie! Let's go!" Dad pushes.

Suddenly the reindeer take off. I guess I'm in for one helluva ride tonight!

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chromatic-lamina · 2 months

Text

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

What way to waste a bit of time on an otherwise busy day! Tagged by @purplehairedwonder

Tagging @afterdeck-ace , @gendervapor14 , @gali-la @ensignsenna @cal-cium-the-nerd @escapaldi and anyone (I mean it) else who'd like to play/try! If you haven't got 10 posted fics, then aim for 4 or 5 or however many you do have posted.

tadpoles in a clawfoot tub

One Piece | G | Gen | 1.9 K | Pre-Marineford, Garp and Roger and then Garp and Ace parallels

Rayleigh didn't know why he bothered.

valuta

One Piece | G | Gen |2 K | Cora & Doffy, Cora & Sengoku, Cora & Law, Law & Sengoku | the story behind Law's coin collection (or one of them)

"Your grandmother's and hers before that."

Riding Along on my Pushbike, Honey (You Look so Pretty)

One Piece | T | Gen | 3.3 K | Aokiji and Law | post Luffy Pirate King AU, Aokiji, Law and Bleat the goat go for a cycle along a frozen river

The mountain streams were filled with smooth basalt like the one Law carried in his pocket.

Taxi

One Piece | M | AceLaw but not all chapters | 17.6K | AU Law's a taxi driver and picks up a myriad of customers*

Older fic which I reuploaded the 3rd chapter to. I'll open with that, cos the first chapter opening's a bit confronting

Solid advice applied wrongly. Law was good at it.

Forty-Two Superior Teeth

One Piece | T | Law and core hearts | 2.6K | Law and the core Hearts dream on Swallow Island

One thing Bepo had was a super thick skin, and just as well, 'cos those boots were steel-capped.

Bioluminescent Hearts*

(spoilers chapter 1081)

One Piece | T | Law, Hearts, Blackbeard, Saul | 5.7K | Law and the Hearts all manage to escape well from BB.

Last on first off, the helmsman was a position usually held by the lowest rank, the newest recruit.

Heart Pirates Week 2023: Jean Bart: Scars

One Piece | T | Law, Hearts, fiiclets | 1.8K total| title says it all

The wooden deck of the Polar Tang wasn't that practical.

MarcoLaw OP Rare Pair Month Drabbles and Ficlets

One Piece | T | MarLaw, Marco and Law Ficlets | 1.8K total| there was only one bed

Law couldn't contain himself to one bed.

Something Old, Something New

One Piece | T | Zoro, | about 500 words| Zoro reflects on rainy days

One eye closed still had depth.

Bepo’s Drabble and One Shot Collection

One Piece | T | Hearts, Ikkaku, Hakugan, Law, Bepo| about 800 words| , chapter 15. Slice of life aboard the Tang

The thing about the huge, huge, huge beanbag that Hakugan had lugged on board when he'd joined them (packed to the softly- moulding-brim with snow geese feathers collected from friends and family), was that it was very white, and so was Bepo.

Sun Path Ozoni

One Piece | T | Hearts and Law| 1275 words| The Hearts debate whose New Year tradition is best, and enjoy a summer celebration.

"Nah man, you gotta use the soy broth."

Patterns: I am writing a lot of Hearts stuff (some due to zines), and also am not writing as much as I used to (busy, and have only got so much to say!). Anyhoo: my openings are relatively short, bar the last one. I don't open with dialogue as much as I thought I did. A touch of description is common, or an internal observation. General observations seem to be popular too.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law #heart pirates #monkey d. garp #roronoa zoro #one piece fanfic #chromafic #chromafics #writing patterns #chromalami

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unpun1shable · 7 months

Text

Dreaming in Rouge- Chapter 1

“Diamonds are a girl’s best… friend…”

Word Count: 3.1k.

Moulin Rouge!AU - Christian!Aemond - Pretentious! Aemond - Satine!Reader - Miscommunication - Sex Work - Not Beta Read.

Last Part , Next Part.

Read On AO3.

Aemond was never a fan of smoking. Pipes were far too eccentric for his tastes. A flashy, winding piece of ivory to wave around in others faces. Cigars were fat and obnoxious. Puffing thick, black clouds of tobacco. Cigarettes? Once an indulgence for the elite tainted by mass production. Now, it was a pleasure for both the wealthy and penniless man.

Tonight, Aemond was most certainly a penniless man. A small, white stick pursed between thin lips. Legs bent and body curled on the windowsill. Smoke drifting out after long drags. Amethyst eyes lazily scanning the nightly crowd.

Three days had passed since Aemond arrived in Pentos. Three days into this little stakeout. Three days since he had lied to his mother in writing. Having spent the little coin he had for a carriage ride to King’s Landing, a ship to Dragonstone, and another ship across the Narrow Sea from there. That- along with some minor bribing and a dingy motel room across from the “Moulin Rouge”- left the boy with nothing but a few coppers to weigh down his pockets.

The streets of Pentos were reminiscent of King’s Landing, in a way. Aemond had been taken to Oldtown with his mother at a young age. However, with what he knew of King’s Landing from visits over the years to see his ailing father, Aemond saw the same, square buildings toppled over one another and running down slopes. The red light district, in particular, just had an aura of patheticness. Its inhabitants clawing and clawing to this unreachable point. In Pentos it was beggars of skin and pleasure, instead of politics and power. He supposed the only difference, other than that, was that the air of Pentos only vaguely smelt of excrement.

That was, until he heard the wind carry in from the north. A soft, running hymnal carried along on its bite. It was like a bell in the fog. A siren’s song to a wandering, bereft sailor. It caught the boy’s ear in a snatching grip. The delicate, winding hum distracts Aemond from his makeshift stakeout. His gaze shifted from damp streets to the compound that was the Moulin Rouge.

His eye befell the giant, center building of the compound. An elephant. One that he’d find himself staring at for no reason at all these past few days. Something about that building just jumped out of the skyline and grabbed him. Like poetry from the page- it took hold of his brain. Not even the echoed sounds of pleasure and excitement from the main theater of the Moulin Rouge could keep his attention. He’d come attuned to blocking it out after the second day in the city.

A heart-shaped balcony. A peak of deep, wine red. A curved silhouette against dim candlelight.

“Diamonds are a girl’s best… friend…”

The next morning, Aemond woke to the sun sitting high in the sky. The ascension of noon, and the fall of drywall. The starch, white fiber coating the sleeping man and causing him to jolt awake in a coughing fit. A passed out dornish man dangling from the broken ceiling as Aemond was curled up on his side in the dusty bed.

This led to Aemond’s current state. Clad in a sleeping blouse and a pair of breeches in a motel room that was certainly as dingy and cramped as his, but was filled to the brim with set designs and props. The grumbling blonde ignored by the band of hyperactive thespians who woke him from his sleep in the first place.

The one who roped Aemond into all of this, the dangling dornish, was splayed out over a mattress. A narcoleptic, he learned. One who was meant to play some… goat herder? The sets constructed like the alps of Sweden. A pint-sized man, Mushroom, shushing Aemond’s complaints as the four thespians were caught in a heated debate.

“The hills are animated-”

“The hills are vital-”

“The hills are incarnate-”

The thespians preened and droned. Dragging over their words as if they were trying to be artistic for arts sake. Not because it was what truly came from them. It was an imitation. Trying, desperately, to breathe the bohemian whimsy. Long words that bumbled over one another for no other point than sounding complicated.

“- euphonious symphony…”

“- intoning the descant…”

“- symphonic melodies…”

It was like a spit of fire. The flick of a match against red phosphorus. Aemond, who had just come to berate the bumbling playwrights, snapped above them all. The writer deep within him, the sense of superiority instilled in him from Oldtown, roared above all else. Flaring and rearing its ugly head as he watched these “wanna-be poets” twist and tangle their tongues.

“The hills are alive! Gods damn it, just say the hills are alive!”

***

First light for a whore came well into the afternoon. Body sore from the night before and makeup smeared. No second wasted. Not when it came to Illyrio. No diamond was left unpolished beneath his gaze. Each performer was up, practicing and cinched into tight costumes. Flaking powder puffed like a chipping building painted over with a new coat. Deep charcoal set to the water lines. Rouge adorning lips and cheeks as noon turned to dusk.

“The gods lonely men pray too” Illyrio would look at his dancers and preen, strutting around like a proud cock amongst the hens. Well, not all hens. The Moulin catered to all tastes. Evident by the prim, stark blonde by your side.

“Use the brown lip and then dab most of it off with a napkin. It’ll add some depth to your natural pink.” You tried to guide Aegon as you sat in side by side vanities. Both primping for first shift. Eventually, though, you reached a point you couldn’t sit back and watch the grungy boy fumble. Instead, you perched your rear on the wood of the vanity. Hands fussing over delicate, porcelain, Valyrian features. Trying to simultaneously tame and bring the man’s silver locks to life. Keep the dog on a muzzle but let it bark a little. Nurse the poison in small doses to keep it desirable. Heavy enough to drag you through the muck but light enough to keep you feeling high. The never ending balance of a man’s impossible fantasy.

“Stop fussing over him and get to yourself, darling.” An old whore turned madame, Saera, scolded you. She was a veteran of the streets. A mother of fledgling whores. A fledgling you still were, but more like that of a raven. Staying behind to help Mama and Papa with the new hatchlings still in the nest, even though your wings were still growing themself.

“I still have a long time before I have to go on in the middle of the number, Marie. Aeg’s barely got his pantyhose on and he has to go out first.” You laughed to the older woman as the boy himself scowled. It was always a fine line with Aegon. The boy was like the tides come to life. Coming in with unstoppable force one second and pulling out with a rip the next. Constantly toeing between pushing for affection and scratching at the hands that pet him. Like a little kitten, sopping wet from the rain.

“I may be a whore but I'm no cross-dresser!” Aegon huffed, standing up with his white, form fitting tee clinging to thin skin. A pair of black trousers trailing down long legs, set with a pair of jeweled suspenders. “That was one time!” He adds at your knowing look, already guessing the cheeky quip that was about to fall from your lips.

Truth be told, Aegon was a bit of a prude. The boy had some leftover Westerosi shame hiding between the layers of his flesh. Creeping like crawling ivy. But once he was on the floor, there was no denying the light in those shining, purple eyes. Like he had just smoked straight from the opium pipe. Like an addict with a bottle. He found something on the stage, something you did not see. Something that kept him coming back.

“One time I'd pay to see again” You smirk. “You looked like a little doll in that pink slip, even if you stank of rum” A bubbling giggle accompanied by shaking shoulders. Saera half heartedly swatting you with a hanky to play nice. Aegon sends you a narrowed glare. Such a soft warmth hidden behind costume fabric, fishnets, and spotlights.

***

“Mission accomplished, we have successfully invaded seat one.” Mushroom gave an impish grin. One that Aemond already hated, despite knowing the dwarf for only an hour or more. The man was a fool. One that belonged in a bouncing hat adorned with bells. A deluded little creature, as well. One that had him dressed in gentleman’s garb and snuck into this den of red lights and debauchery.

If there were two words to wrap up the dizzying experience of the Moulin Rouge, it would be “a show.” Every aspect of it was a performance. One that came bright and bold and all encompassing. Diamond dogs run around, the can can resounding in ears and feet.

“Here we are now, here we are now…”

“Can can can can can…”

After only hearing the sounds of the night for three days, Aemond had to say the show up close was just as… noisy. The girls ran and swayed and bucked on the floor. Their skirts turned up to show the garments that laid beneath. He supposed they were meant to look like flower petals revealing the bud beneath. However, to Aemond’s eye, it was like a chimpanzee curling up their lip. Baring yellowed teeth in some barbaric mating ritual.

He was not a fan, to say the least. Much less when he caught sight of the ringleader. A man of curling hair and white, painted face. A garish clown, pumping his cane into the air. Repeating that same word “can” over and over and over again.

For some reason, Aemond thought of Helaena in the midst of the storm. He wondered how she would’ve reacted to this display. Perhaps she would have jolted away like she does from mother’s touch. Curled up with her hands over her ears. Perhaps she would look at the dancers like she looks at her prized bugs. She did seem to like controlled chaos. Twirling and swaying to the drums of string bands at feasts she chose to attend.

“Exquisite! Incanfederous! You two simply must write the show together” Mushroom had cheered when Aemond spoke his piece on their lyricism. “Oh! We should take you to our star! I’m sure she would adore you, considering how she primps over that other Valyrian boy.”

That was what had drawn Aemond in. The simple mention of his brother had him with his nose to the ground like a pig after truffles. He had to bring Aegon home. Back to his mother and back to Helaena. That was why he was in this city of sin. That was why he was dressed in the narcoleptic dornishman’s best suit and down a cup of absinthe. That was why he was in this noisy den. For Alicent and for Helaena. Nothing else.

That was, until the world was doused in blue. For a moment, he thought the green drink had taken him. This was it, this was death. I’ve been killed by a thespian dwarf whose weapon of choice is a bottle of liquor. A shining light bathed the writer in its encompassing glow. That soft, supple hum from the winds the night before reaching his ears.

“The Pentoshi are glad to die for love…”

That voice. That silhouette once a wine red now a moonlight blue. Caressing and enveloping him like a baptism. A tunneling wave breaking above the surf.

***

“Is lord Tyland here?” You ask, heaving and full of nerves. Crouched in a circle of upturned, ruffled skirts. Switching from the blue jewels and black canvas to pink lace and white fur.

“Of course he is- just for you, my little kitty cat” Illyrio said with one of his famous grins. One that could trick death itself.

“Will he invest?” That question comes first as you shimy the top of the corset. Tugging to get it to fit your chest just right.

“After a night with you, my darling? A man would buy the moon.”

“What do you think’s his fancy?” A furrow caught your brow as you spoke. “Wilting flower?” A soft whimper and a pout. Eyes up like a doe in the grass. “Bright and bubbly” A beaming grin and giggles. Shoulders rising and falling and body lilting to the side. “Or a smoldering temptress?” A cocky grin and a growl. Eyes half-lidded and predatory.

“I’d say smoldering temptress” Illyrio smirks, fussing over your features. “We’re all relying on you. Remember, leave him satisfied and leave him-”

“With his balls empty- yes, I remember” A dismissive giggle left your lips. Then, it was time for the show to go on. Illyrio and you popping out of the ring of diamond dogs like the prized pieces of a cornucopia.

“Which one is lord Tyland?” You turn your head to the side to whisper. Back to back as your hands rock in side to side arches. Your hips following the movement of the song.

“In the booths in seat one- pale hair and light eyes.” Illyrio returns and spins around. The man takes you by the arms and spins you. You only have one chance to catch a glance at the velvet nooks. A shimmering, lilac eye and flowing, silver hair catching your gaze like a moth to a flame. A light emanating from that single eye more intense than any seen in two. Holding your form in its possession like a knife.

“Oh, light eye’s an understatement” You mumble, before Illyrio throws you to the VIP section. The costume was a subtle nod to the god, Pantera. Adorning six tails instead of six breasts. Plush pink and creamy whites adorning the furs that sprouted forth from your backside in a ruffling arch. The tails sway as you swing your hips. Putting on a show for the man that would make all your dreams come true.

“I believe you were expecting me?”

***

You were a whirlwind. A temptress. A feline who had him caught between your teeth like a pitiful mouse. Sprouting out of a bloom of skirts and pantyhose. Bursting through it like life from a womb. A shining, radiant, splendored thing.

“I believe you were expecting me?” That voice came like a purr. Lidded, wanting eyes staring through him. Making Aemond excruciatingly aware of just what he was. Skin and bones. A sack of skin, bones, and blood at your feet. At the mercy of your fingers that brushed down his chest.

“We should take you to our star!” Mushroom’s earlier words break through his sputtering mind. The machine is on and reeling but the cogs are not exactly turning. Or, perhaps they turned too fast and all flew off.

“Yes!” He said, eager like a boy with a wrapped present. Desperate to just get something out instead of sitting there with his lips parted and collecting flies. Before he remembered himself. A wave of embarrassment and shame became the man as he coughed and regained his normal pitch. “Yes, I-”

“I see you already met my Westerosi friend” Mushroom cut in, from his spot by Aemond.

You were like a spitfire, grabbing Aemond before he himself could even process it. Hauling him off, not even listening to the drunken dwarf as he called out.

“He writes the world’s most modern poems!” Mushroom’s words fell on deaf ears. Your siren’s song of flesh calling to Aemond like a feast to a starved man. His feet forced to fall in line with the cacophony of steps. Stiff and unsure. This was not like the dancing of Westeros. The fluttering sways and brushing touch. Your form encapsulated him. Rough canvas against his borrowed suit. Legs so close they almost intertwined. So wrong. So, so wrong. Burning his skin like forbidden knowledge. Burning.

“So wonderful for you to take an interest in our little show” Your voice rolled over the second word. Catching it in your mouth and rumbling the syllables. Tossing it over your tongue to vibrate against Aemond’s ear and send a buzz straight through his body.

“You two simply must write the show together!”

“Oh” Aemond cleared his throat, on his toes to keep up with your flurry. Your movements were like a storm. Pushing and pulling and swaying and shaking like the winds of a hurricane. How blessed he was, to be in its eye. How cursed he was, to think it a blessing. “I assume he told you it would be a private… poetry reading… of sorts. But, I-”

“Ohhh” You giggled after a second, cutting the man off. “Hm. A poetry reading? I do love a little wordplay.” Gods, that voice. It curled around Aemond and held him like savory molasses. Like a pool of tempting, shimmering tar tearing him from faith.

“I shall dine on your words tonight.” The promise burnt his skin like a brand. Aemond’s entire being stuck to your form as your palms dragged down his chest. Drawing him in so tantalizingly close before pushing him away. Like a fleeting night of drinks and passion, followed by a heavy, withering withdrawal. Aemond’s legs simply were not the man’s own as they stumbled back and his ass landed on the upholstery of the private booth. Your form swung and drawn away, effortlessly taken to the skies by trapeze.

“… Who was that?” The words fell from Aemond’s voice. Well, no, not Aemond’s voice. This was not the prim and proper man of Westeros. This was… trembling. Breathless like a newborn. Quivering in naked vulnerability.

“That?” Mushroom, whom Aemond even forgot existed for a moment, spoke. A look of momentary confusion on his face, before a knowing, impish grin replaced it. “Ohh, that, good sir, is the shining diamond. Stage Name: Satine.”

“Satin?” Aemond echoed, looking down at the dwarf.

“Satine” Mushroom corrected.

What a stupid name, Aemond thought to himself. Adding an extra flair just to give it that bohemian twist. However, the man did admit… it fits you perfectly. That soft, smooth voice. Those legs, dangling from the edge of the trapeze. One hand brushing over the crowd of reaching men. Just grazing their fingers, so close yet out of reach. A beaming smile fluttering about the theater in an arching circle.

Petite Mort.

#the sillies #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #Dreaming in Rouge

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hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend · 11 months

Text

A Magical Reunion

I commissioned @scholarlostintime to write a little reunion piece for Sib and Thanny and I am so so happy with it and get all giggly about it I have to share with you all! I hope you all find the joy I did in reading this! Thank you so so much again @scholarlostintime you’re a joy to work with!

General warning for Shadbowbringers and beyond word count 1.6k

“Go to sleep, Sib-” Thancred’s voice was muffled by the pillow he had face-planted into a few moments earlier, the exhaustion from the day’s scouting evident in his voice. Siberite didn’t reply, the soft flick of her tail the only acknowledgement of the rogue’s words. It was the first night they’d been in civilization for weeks, and she was not about to give up her free moments — and running water — to fall into bed with her boots on.

Even if she wasn’t a lady any longer — at least not to most that knew her — it still felt good to finish the day scrubbing off all the excess grime. She finished rubbing a sweet-smelling cream into her scales before standing, heading over to where she’d laid out fresh clothing.

“You smell sweeter than all the fields of flowers in Etheirys~” Thancred’s voice finally drew her attention, earning a glance from the au ra in his direction. He’d shifted some from his spot, head now turned to watch her as she moved about the room, a small grin upon his lips. “Come to bed? Please?”

“When I’m ready.” Siberite teased back, shrugging her shoulders as she slipped into her fresh clothing, quietly listing out her evening routine in her head to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied, she made her way into bed, sliding under the covers — and into Thancred’s arms. “Sweet dreams, Thanny~”

Siberite could have sworn she heard a small giggle in the dark as she drifted off.

—

“We’ve found you!” Another giggle, this one closer to Siberite’s horns. “Tricks tricks tricks! More tricks for us!” Another voice — another giggle. “Dream! Dream! Dream of all the things! This one-” the voice was slightly further away. “-was no fun! We should play a bigger trick on him!”

“Yes! Good! Won’t they hate it!” “Too old, and no fun! All the better to play~”

—

Siberite opened her eyes, finding herself not in the cozy inn room she’d fallen asleep in, but atop a hill brimming with colorful flowers. Faint music could be heard on the breeze — a warm, welcoming and sweetly scented wind that seemed to beckon her forward. Standing, she glanced around, trying to figure out where she was.

“Thancred?” Siberite called out to no reply. She quashed the anxiety brewing in her stomach, balling her fists and marching down the hill instead. Wherever Thancred was — wherever she was, she was about to find out.

Siberite was greeted with a familiar sight at the bottom of the hill — a landscape filled with flowing rivers, giant slides and swings, rainbow-colored mushrooms, and houses made of candy. Lyhe Mheg, the Garden of Dreams. Was she dreaming then? That would explain her being here. But why had she been brought here at all? Trudging along, she made her way toward the nearest gingerbread house in search of answers.

Siberite paused in her steps as she approached the house, finding a familiar white-haired bard curled up atop one of the large macaron cushions, still fast asleep. It seemed they’d both been dragged to Lyhe Mheg. Smiling, she took a few moments to watch as he snored away, looking more peaceful in his rest than she’d seen him in moons. His face was tired, etched with lines from hard nights and even harder days. And yet, she could see him relax a bit more with each breath.

“You’re awake! Do you like our nasty trick?” A small pixie perched onto Siberite’s head with a giggle, waving their feet back and forth with glee. “You were both oh-so-not fun, so we had to make sure and play!”

“Does the King know you’ve dragged us both away?” Siberite replied, smirking up at the pixie still wiggling with glee. “They’ll be very cross if I tell them what you’ve done~”

The pixie gasped, the kicking of their legs stopping abruptly. “Oh no! Please don’t! We’re sorry! We only wanted to have some fun.”

“We’re very sorry!” A second pixie popped into existence in front of Siberite. “Please don’t tell! We brought you a secret!”

“Yes! It wasn’t all tricks, we promise! We brought you a secret for you and-” the first pixie huffed, pointing in Thancred’s direction “-the mean one. Even if he is no fun!”

As if on cue, Thancred stirred from sleep, the soft yawn awakening him quickly turning into an instinctive grab for a gunblade that wasn’t there. In his confusion, he grabbed a candy cane instead, tearing it from its base. “Wha-”

“Lyhe Mheg,” Siberite answered before Thancred could finish his question, an amused look playing across her face at the sight. “The pixies seem to have played a nasty trick on us — one they say they have more of~”

A groan escaped Thancred’s lips at the mention of pixies and their location. Setting aside the candy cane, he stood, dusting himself off and crossing his arms. An attempt to look more stoic than annoyed. But the thin line of his lips and the slight furrow of his brow all but gave it away.

“Come on,” Siberite offered out a hand. “We might as well see why we’re here. It is a dream after all. I’m sure you can have a little fun.”

“Yes please! Fun fun fun! Just like a trick!” The pixie still on her head replied, kicking their legs in glee again as they pointed off into the distance. “Your surprise is just that way!”

“If it’s anything-” Thancred mumbled between gritted teeth, choosing to trudge forward instead of finishing his sentence. With a laugh, Siberite followed after.

—

“Aren’t we a bit old to be in a place like this? I thought it was for children.” An annoyed voice sighed in the distance, a small hill obscuring Thancred and Siberite’s view of its owner.

“Maybe, but I think it’s fun~ A dream where one can relax with no worries — besides the pixies attempting tricks.” A second, cheerier voice replied. “I don’t think you can ever be too old to dream.”

Thancred paused in his tracks at the voices, trying to replace the wave of emotions washing across his face — recognition, confusion, and finally hope — with his usual stoic neutrality before Siberite noticed. Thankfully, a similar wash across her face seemed to distract her from his, her head tilting ever so slightly.

This was a dream world, and pixies were wont to play tricks — it couldn’t be, could it? And the pixies were known to be able to mimic the looks of others. And their voices. It would be silly to hope.

But the voices in the distance continued their conversation. “I think if I sit on that I’ll end up sticky.” The first voice carried its usual hint of disgust, parried by the second’s delight.

“Oh! But look! Lollipops the size of your head. I wonder if they’ve coffee biscuit flavored ones?”

Thancred hesitated again, a warning snarling under his breath. “If this is the trick.” His hands balled up for a moment, before he was off sprinting over the hill, Siberite chasing closely after.

“Ryne!” Thancred shouted her name as he slid to a stop in front of a candy-covered awning, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Gods…”

“...Thancred?” Bright blue eyes glanced up from behind bright orange bangs seated at one of the chairs, her usual darkly-garbed companion beside her. “SIberite!” Ryne shot up from the table, staring at the two in shock.

“Please tell me you’re not a trick of the eyes, a part of the dream-” Thancred started, Ryne shaking her head and racing over to the pair, eyes already filled with tears.

“No! I mean yes, this is the dream world of the pixies, but no! No no, it’s me! How are you two here?” She reached up to wipe at her eyes with her sleeve. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Wordless, Thancred reached out, pulling Ryne and Siberite both close to his chest. Another pixie popped into existence, sneaking themselves into the hug with a giggle.

“Do you like it? Do you like our trick? The King said we could do it, we just didn’t tell you!” They giggled again, squirming beneath the hug.

“Yes,” Siberite answered for them all, finally breaking the hug and pulling free of the others’ grasp. Thancred kept an arm around Ryne, unwilling to let go just yet.

While she’d been able to freely traverse to the First and back to the Source again, Thancred had not. Despite Y’shtola’s continued efforts, his return to the Source had meant his saying goodbye to Ryne. And with the First and Source’s timelines drifting in and out of sync, it was impossible to tell if the next time he’d see Ryne she’d be an old woman — or worse.

And yet, here they all were, able to visit in a dream at the very least. Siberite took a step back, watching as Ryne excitedly shared tales of her continued efforts on the First — its restoration, the festival at the Crystarium, the things she’d accomplished. Thancred was equally animated — dropping the stoic frowns and stiff poses for a look of adoration only a doting father could have.

Ryne beckoned to Siberite, pulling the au ra from her thoughts. “Come on! Sit with us? We still have a lot of catching up to do. And.. perhaps we could try sampling some of the furniture?” She giggled, waving Siberite over again.

It was a good dream, and one Siberite hoped wouldn’t end any time soon. Grinning, she strode over to join the group.

—

Siberite’s eyes fluttered open, the flicker of a lamp on a nearby table bringing her senses back to the inn room once more. She’d have to travel to the First again the moment she could to see if Ryne really had been dreaming with them too.

Rolling onto her side, she turned to face Thancred. He was still fast asleep, arms curled around his pillow — and a soft smile on his lips.

***

#Truly captured my girl! that first paragraph alone just knew it!#but this is so cute everyone should read it!#just been so happy and rereading it #we’re going a bit out of order because I have nothing for the other prompts and I’m excited!#x: lover you are pure light #the parent trapped #commissions and gifts #wolcred #thancred x wol

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