#Man I haven't been on here in forever sorry

[neonscented]

I very much appreciate the person who has been celebrating Holding Him Friday for these past few weeks...

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[imwritesometimes]

woke up still experiencing the effects of the jardeth chokehold so. you know. will be fuckin useless for the day.

[greatbigstorm]

/ /

[thedeliaishere]

YOUNG WOMAN - Actually, detective, I'm a woman.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - She says it so insistently, as if arguing with you. You may have upset her.

COMPOSURE [Formidable: Failure] - You feel a pit in your stomach. You did something wrong, but you don't know what.

LOGIC [Trivial: Success] - Her way of dressing, the feminine name, yet deep voice - it should have been clear to you sooner. She's transgender.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Formidable: Success] - Almost imperceptible, the lieutenant anxiously twitches his eyebrow.

DAMAGED MORALE - 1

Transgender? What's that?

This doesn't have any bearing on the investigation.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: Success] - A transgender person is someone who does not identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. Oftentimes they will dress conforming to their desired gender roles, change their names, and seek medical intervention to, "transition."

Gender is rather bourgeois, anyway.

Why would any proud Revacholian discard their masculinity?

Changing your gender? That sounds like quite the hustle. Maybe we can learn a thing or two from this woman.

That's cool. I have no opinion on this one way or another.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - Just as Mazov dared to challenge the established order of capitalism, so too do others challenge the order of things such as sex and gender.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] - IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE WE'VE FELT THE TOUCH OF A WOMAN. WHO CARES IF SHE USED TO BE A MAN? HAVE SEX WITH HER NOW! ITS WHAT A REAL MAN WOULD DO!

EMPATHY - [Trivial: Success] - Don't do that. It's clear now, you upset her for accidentally calling her a man. Just apologize.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] - Profusely.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - It's important to be a good ally.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - Make a real show of it, sire!

"Oh, I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'll leave you alone forever now."

"I haven't been a good representative of the RCM. We're here to help the people of Martinaise, no matter their identity. I'm sorry to have let you down."

[Drama - Legendary 14] Try and come up with an elaborate, heartfelt apology in the style of the turn of the century thespians.

HIGH 83% +1 Found testosterone ampoule on nightstand. +1 Homo-Sexual Underground. +1 Read about the turn of the century thespians. -1 Recovered your gun. -1 Masculinity challenged. This is a Red Check. It cannot be retried.

⚀⚀

CHECK FAILURE

YOU - You try and come up with the words to convey your apology to the young woman, but you come up blank. It's hard to fit, "transgender" into iambic pentameter, as it turns out.

DRAMA - I'm sorry, sire. I have failed you.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Detective? You've been standing there for a whole minute. Are you okay?"

ESPIRIT DE CORPS - Shit, the lieutenant is onto us. We have to say something soon, or we could lose him.

COMPOSURE [Trivial: Success] - Don't worry, we can still salvage this. Anyone have any ideas?

VOLITION [Heroic: Failure] - Let me handle this.

You - "I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I'm such a fucking failure. Do you want me to kill myself?"

[musamora]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[andillneverbethesame]

CASUAL

❥ draco malfoy x reader

❥ warnings; oral sex, implied vaginal sex, not reread — may contain gramatical mistakes

❥ word count; 2,3k

❥ a/n; ik i should be prob writing your ts requests but i've been listening to casual by chappel roan sm lately and got idea for this fic sorry for the second smut not being written. i realized how much i don't like writing it.

you and your dear friend daphne greengrass were seated in the slytherin's common room sofa, doing your potion's homework on the last minute.

"ugh, does snape hate us? this is an awful homework!" daphne complained with her head in her hands.

"i agree," you spoke. "this is taking forever. and i gotta meet draco in-" you checked your watch "-fifteen minutes."

daphne sighed, making you glance at her with a raised eyebrow.

"got a problem, greengrass?"

she stared at you, contemplaining on what she should say. "i think you're a loser that you're still hanging around and let him treat you like that."

daphne didn't like draco before this thing between you two even started, none of your friends did. but they hate him even more, knowing he's wiping the floor with you.

"you don't know how sweet he actually is," you tried to convince her. and a bit yourself, too.

"it's a facade."

in that moment, you could see from the corner of your eye two girls walking past you and eyeing you up and down.

"do you think it's serious between her and malfoy?" asked one the other.

"nah. nott said malfoy told him she's just a girl he bangs on his couch." answered the other.

you froze. this was so humiliating. you could only hope that those were just rumours and draco never said anything like that to theodore. you could ask nott, but you doubt he would tell you if he really heard him say that. him and draco were the best of friends.

you met daphne's look that clearly said, "i told you so."

"oh, fuck off!" you packed your things and left the common room.

draco said to meet him in the library, so that's where you were heading. on your way there, you tried your best to ignore the looks and the whispers of other people. it was a date night, after all. you were determined not to let your mood be ruind by silly things like that.

the library was quiet as always. you always thought draco asked to meet you there because it's such a calm, romantic place. plus, both you and draco loved reading so you'd spent your date time like that. however, daphne suggested a few weeks ago that the reason draco wanted to meet in the library, was the fact that there weren't much people in the evening hours, so no one would see you there. you could only hope that that wasn't the case.

you found him at his usual spot in the right back corner of the library.

but he was not alone.

he was seated at the table while pansy parkinson was sitting on the table with her legs crossed. you could see her fingers slightly lifting up her skirt, revealing her underwear. and the worst thing was: draco was looking. and by the way he smirked and licked his lips, he liked it.

rage filled your entire body but you decided to play it cool. you put on a smile and made your way over to them.

"hey, pansy," you said, still smiling brightly. "didn't expect to see you here. haven't you got a better thing to do than flirting with other girl's man?"

she rolled her eyes and got off the table. she send draco a wink and blew him a kiss before leaving.

you huffed and took a seat opposite to draco. he continued on reading his book, but as if he could feel the daggers you've been sending through his head, he lifted his gaze.

"what?" he asked, acting clueless.

"care to explain why it looked like if i didn't walk in you two would be shagging each other's brains out?"

"we wouldn't." you swore you could see his eyes crinkling. what a fucking liar. "why do you care anyway? are you jealous?"

"yeah, i am!" you admitted. "we are together. you have me. so why do you still cave other's girl attention so badly?"

he snorted. "we're not together."

you froze, feeling humiliated once again. this was so embarassing you wished you had the ability to melt into the ground. but you didn't. all you could do was stare at him for a few seconds before letting a faint "oh" leave your lips. you couldn't help it. tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.

draco saw that. "i'm sorry, baby. i told you no attachment." his arm reached over the table and placed it over yours.

"i know. you're right. i'm sorry," you apologized although you had nothing to apologize for.

draco stood up from his seat and kneeled in front of you. "it's okay, i forgive you. you're someone i couldn't lose." and then, his hands went to the sides of your face and his lips to yours. although, you were deep down still feeling angry. the feeling of his kiss made it vanish.

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

"oh merlin!"

you were in draco's limousine, your legs were over the boy's shoulders and his head was between your thighs. you gripped his blonde hair. he was truly a master at this. his tongue worked perfectly on you, eating you out as if he was starved and as if he never tasted anything better.

you were sure his fingers would leave a mark from the tight hold on your outer thighs. but you didn't mind. it would be there to remind you of the best head of your life.

his tongue flicked over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body each time he touched that one spot that caused you to see heaven. your eyes were rolled to the back of your head as your nails dugged into the skin of his shoulders. you were close to the edge despite it being only five minutes.

your glassy eyes watched him. it was truly a wonderful sight that could alone make you come. and then, his icy blue eyes met yours. and that was all you needed to fall apart under his touch.

when you finally collected yourself and draco wiped his mouth with a napkin he pulled from the back pocket of his pants, you two sat in silence with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your body. this was one of the moments you refused to believe that draco believed it was casual. him kissing the top of your head, his fingers intertwined with yours, him smiling when you drew a heart on the limousine's foggy window-

"would you like to meet my mother?"

-him asking you to meet his mother-

wait. what?

your eyes went wide as you pulled away from his embrace. "what?"

he shrugged. "my mum wants to meet you."

you raised an eyebrow and smiled. "you told your mum about me?" that was surprising. i mean, sure, you told your mum about him too, but that was different. this meant everything to you while it meant very little to nothing to draco.

"no," he shook his head and your smile dropped. "i'd bet all my money it was zabini or nott."

"oh, right. well, if you'd like me to, i'd like to meet your mum."

"great," he nodded. "i think you'd like her. i'm not so sure about my dad but. . ." he didn't finish his sentence and you didn't ask kim, knbowing how the relationship between him and lucius was.

you were about to meet his parents. was it still casual?

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

you gasped at the sight of the malfoy manor. it was twice bigger than you expected. the gate opened and you two walked in to the property.

"how rich are you?" you asked him, still gaping.

"enough to never have to work for the rest of my life," he replied with a smirk.

"hm, i'd like that."

and then, your mind began on creating fantasies again. you were dumb. but you loved it. you dreamt of you and draco in a year, after you two graduate. you dreamt of living together and it didn't have to be in a manor large like this one. it could be in a room at three broomsticks. it didn't matter as long as you two were together. and then, maybe you two would be something. and he'd show you off to everyone.

you blushed at the thought. these fantasies are fatal.

draco opened the large door to the manor and you two walked in. for some reason, it was a bit colder than the outside air but you could imagine yourself spending time there.

"mother?" draco called out but there was no response. but then, an elf walked into the hallway and the boy asked him, "dobby, where are mother and father?"

"t-they are out, mr malfoy. they are taking care of some business," he replied, his voice shaking.

draco nodded, looking as if he knew what business the elf was talking about. he turned to you and said, "let's go. we'll wait in my room."

he took a hold of your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, making fireworks explode inside of you.

his room was quite small compared to the other rooms in the manor, but it was very cozy anyway. he had the dark walls covered with posters of his favourite quidditch team and also with pictures. you took your time walking around and exploring. there were countless of photographs with him and his friends, two or three with his mother (zero with his father) and one with. . .

you.

it was a photo of you two on one of slytherin's party, before you started hooking up, you were sitting on the common's room sofa with your arm around him and his hand on your knee. you already fancied him at this point. the look in your eyes as you gazed at him couldn't be missed.

you really did love him.

you turned around, still smiling. you found him sitting on his bed so you took the advantage and began to straddle him. his head hit the matress as his hands gripped your hips. your fingers found its way to his colar, untying his tie.

"what do you say to a little fun before dinner?"

-----

"draco!" female voice echoes through the manor. "we're home! you can come downstairs!"

you two spent the last fifteen minutes in his bed, in silence.

"well, we definitely can't come down looking like this." you both were still naked, not bothering to put on your clothes just yet. your hair were a mess and your lipstick was smudged from the endless making out.

you got up to find your clothes since they were scattered everywhere across the floor.

"have you seen my bra?" you asked draco after you found your panties. you saw him holding it, expecting to give it to you. but instead of that, he send you a wink, turned around and put it in one of his drawer.

a light laugh slip passed your lips. "you dick. that's my favourite one!"

"well," he shrugge, "it's mine now, sorry."

you rolled your eyes and slipped on your maroon dress. this one was a gift from draco for your birthday.

right after that, you grabbed your clutch and walked into the bathroom to fix your appearance.

"a question," you called out to draco.

"yeah?"

"what did you say to your mum?"

"what do you mean?"

"well," you paused to put on your lipstick. "what did you tell her about us and our relationship status?"

he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms on his chest. "what would i tell her? i didn't tell her anything."

"oh. . . then what. . . are we?"

you heard him sigh. "y/n, why do you expect another answer? we're casual. i told you that at least a hundred times."

casual.

a perfect evening ruined by one fucking word.

you were so done with this.

"casual?" you repeated, turning around to face him. "i'm about to meet your fucking parents, draco. what the fuck do you mean that we're casual? do i mean nothing more to you than an occasional shag? why, draco, why?"

"i told you, i'm not ready for a relationship," he tried to reason.

"not ready for a relationship? you like ten girlfriends before me, how can you be not ready? at least tell the truth and say you don't want to be with me."

"oh merlin." he exhaled. "you know that's not true. why are you so bitter about it?"

"i'm meeting your parents," you repeated for the second time. "you take me out on dates, you buy me an expensive dress, you even talked about a future with me in it once but then you say it's casual and you wonder why i'm bitter?"

"but i told you countless times we're not together-"

"draco!" his mother's voice called again.

"we'll be there in a minute!" he yelled. his voice sounded a bit harsher than he intented it to be. "i tell you we're not together all the time and you always say it's fine. but i can tell it's obviously not. so why are you still hanging around?"

you nodded. "you know what? you're right. i tried hard to be the calm girl that holds her tongue and gives you space, but honestly? i'm not. and i'm exhausted of pretending to be in case you change your mind one day and tell me you wanna be with me." you began to pack your things.

"wait. don't." you stopped, hoping he'll say the right things. but the next words were a dissapointment. "what do i tell my parents?"

you shrugged. "say what you tell to your friends. it's casual. so there's really no point in meeting them." you walked past him with a sweet fake smile and before he could say anything, you were out of sight.

[stark-ironman]

What about Hugh who is the one that's jealous when he sees reader and said friend being too close

Jealously

18+ No Minors

Warnings: jealousy, angst, yelling, fluff at the end.

"Hugh! Y/N! I'm so glad you could make it." Ryan exclaims as you both walk into his house. "We wouldn't miss this get together for the world, mate." Hugh says as he hugs him. "Blake is in the kitchen so Y/N, have fun while your husband and I have some guy time." Ryan shoos you away and you hear Hugh laughing.

Shaking your head, laughing, you start walking to the kitchen when you hear your name called out. "I haven't seen you in forever, Y/N! How have you been?" Mark asks as he hugs you. "I've been great. How about you?" You hug back, feeling his hands slide down your arms before moving them back down to his side. "Can't complain." He chuckles and you two start catching up on everything but you can tell something feels off while talking to him.

"So, are you seeing anybody? I haven't stayed up to date with who's with who." He nonchalantly asks. You lift your left hand up, smiling softly. "I'm actually married. Been married for almost 3 years now." You say, watching his face scrunch up in anger before quickly smiling at you. "That's great! Who are you married to?" Before you can answer, an arm slides around your waist and pulls you close.

"She's married to me, mate." Hugh says with a hint of a snarl. "Well it's nice to put a face with the man who stole Y/N's heart. I'm Mark." Mark holds his hand out and Hugh grabs it tightly. "I didn't steal her heart, she gave it to me but I'm Hugh." You wrap an arm around Hugh, trying to calm him down but the tension is so thick, you decide to end the conversation.

"You know what, Mark, we actually have to get going. Hugh and Ryan have to help Blake and I set up some tables. I'll catch you later." You say as you pull Hugh away. He grips your hand tightly and takes you to one of the bedrooms, locking it before looking at you.

"What the fuck was that?" His voice automatically raises and you can't help but cower a bit. "What are you talking about? It was nothing more than two friends catching up and talking." You tell him. "I was watching from across the room and could tell he wanted to fuck you. He was flirting with you the whole time." Hugh starts pacing, trying to calm himself when he notices your face.

"I didn't take it as that, Hugh. I promise." You say quietly. "I know you didn't, love. I'm sorry for being mad but the fact he was standing right there basically undressing you with his eyes really pissed me off. He seen us walk in together and I only know he did was because Ryan pulled me aside and told me that Mark kept asking when we was going to be here." He sits beside you, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

"You have no reason to get jealous, baby. I don't even look at other guys in that way because I know I have you to come home to. You've ruined me for every other man out there." You joke at the end, causing you both to laugh but there's a hint of seriousness in your statement.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you. I took my anger out on you instead of him and I shouldn't have done that. It won't happen again." He sincerely tells you, pulling you onto his lap. You kiss him softly, smiling against his lips.

"I sorta like seeing you jealous and pissed off." You smirk, his eyebrows raising in amusement. "Then I might have to do it more often." He licks his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"We should get back to the party. You know how Ryan gets." You softly mutter causing Hugh to sigh as he nods. "Let's go then, love." He stands up and leads you out of the room, keeping you close to him for the rest of the night.

[yan-randomfandom]

HIIIIIIII I love your writing alot!!!! Soo, I wanna request something:3

Maybe a Yandere Stanford Pines x GN reader who only saw him as a close friend? They became friends when they were still in high-school up to this day! (Yes, reader did sort of wait 30 years for Ford and never forgot about him)

Maybe just Stanford obsessing over Reader romantically, and Reader just think him as the greatest best-friend ever!!

I LOVE ONE SIDED PINNING OKAY????

Yandere!Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

UM UH,,, IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON— and it's something I'm not even proud of 😭😭 made a mistake on starting your req, and now I got an entirely new idea in my head based on your concept 😭

context btw; reader doesn't know about weirdmaggedon or fake death or entire lore, they dont tell them anything uhhh idk anymore

You took the bus to Gravity Falls! Stanley reached out to you after decades of not having contact. It was a bit sudden, but there's no way you're going to ignore his call.

Stanley Pines was the first man you saw when the Mystery Shack's door opened. Wrinkly, exhausted widened eyes looked at you in silence. He looked unprepared... kind of crusty musty... and very unhygienic.

"You look disgusting! I'm gonna hug you anyway!" you beamed, pulling him in for a big hug. Unwillingly, a strong whiff of his scent hits your nose. "You stink too! You haven't changed a bit, Stanley."

"Glad to know ya missed me," he laughed, giving you an affectionate noogie.

When Stan finally let you go, you looked up to see Ford. He stood in front of you, speechless as he stared into your eyes.

"...Ford," you grinned, walking towards him. In curiosity, you placed your palms on both his cheeks. He seemed to relax with your touch. "You changed a lot."

Your eyes, while they've wrinkled, are as warm as the day he last saw them. He smiled back, his large hand covering one of yours. Your smile widened when you saw his fingers. "And you aged beautifully."

Poetic as always! A laugh bubbled up your throat as you wrapped your arms around him.

He quickly returned the gesture, burying his face into your neck. He missed this. He missed you.

Your warmth didn't change. Fascinating.

"I missed you, man! How come you're such a silver fox now? Good for you!"

"I still have no idea what a silver fox is," he chuckled, already longing for you the second you pulled away from him.

Ford merely stood there for a few moments before he grimaced. Damn it. He still likes you, doesn't he?

It's been more than thirty years already. He thought he would have moved on, especially after the whole weirdmaggedon thing. Why would Stanley ever get the idea of calling you back here??

All of you now sat at the table with you in between the Pines twins. Mabel wore an apron, sophisticatedly offering you tea. The sweetheart made the recipe herself!

"So, how have you been doing these days?" Ford asked, resting his cheek on his palm. Every passing second with you, he gets reminded more and more of why he used to like you.

You are, after all, the first and only person to not call him any sort of names because of his hands.

"Oh, I mean, I've been financially doing well, and it's been a bit difficult to settle down with a partner... but," you blushed. "I think I finally found the one."

Ford coughed out violently, pounding a fist against his chest. He really shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't! You're bound to have found someone!

Get a grip. Fourty. Years.

...He truly had missed out on this dimension for such a long time.

...

The sky is dark. Dipper told you about the roof spot at the shack, and now you're here, thinking about life.

"Dipper said you'd be here," a voice murmured. You looked up and saw Ford walking up to you. Chuckling, you offered him a non-alcoholic drink.

"How many days will you be staying here again?" Ford asked as he sat next to you, sparing a small space between.

"A week at most," you shrugged, kicking your legs at the edge. Ford simply stared at you.

"I guess it'll be forever before we see you again, huh?" he mumbled.

You turned to him with a smile. "Of course not. You guys are invited to my wedding."

... Wedding.

A small huff left your lips. "We're so old now. I still remember being in high school and grouping up with you and Stan when a trio was needed. Good times."

Ford continued staring at you.

"You guys were my best friends. Probably not now, I mean, been decades since we last talked. That reminds me, what made you call—"

Ford suddenly interrupted you with a hug.

"Woah, Fordsy, you miss me that much?" you laughed, hugging him back.

Don't call him that. His arms around you tightened.

You simply let him hug you.

It was such a long one.

And it only grew tighter by the second.

Like he never wanted to let you go again.

but his aim is getting better 🗣️

i love your idea so much btw, i too am a fan of one-sided pining.... the desperation yk.. I THINK I JUST SUCK AT WRITING FOR THAT WHAT 😟 (says the yandere blog)

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread. 

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness. 

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again. 

Haven't you given enough? 

Could they not show you mercy? 

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers. 

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further. 

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

 He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too. 

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please." 

And you know he never begs. 

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity. 

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals. 

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket. 

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel. 

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white. 

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire. 

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact. 

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum. 

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath. 

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity. 

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well. 

You can't stop your body from aching for him. 

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours. 

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes. 

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant. 

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood. 

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed. 

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion. 

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him. 

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass? 

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands? 

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite. 

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons. 

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down. 

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty. 

Now you are plunged into doubt. 

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair. 

"What are we going to do now?" 

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself. 

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles. 

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream. 

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost. 

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust. 

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two? 

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance. 

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words. 

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"  

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it. 

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was. 

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier. 

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor." 

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice. 

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark. 

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you. 

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished? 

You don't know, but you accept the risk. 

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing. 

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.  

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly. 

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

 "And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead. 

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences. 

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything. 

Where you were that night when you didn't come home. 

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you. 

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support. 

You know it wasn't his fault. 

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder. 

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you. 

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

 Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door. 

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time. 

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her. 

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up. 

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again. 

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him. 

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course. 

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time. 

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired. 

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe. 

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks. 

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face. 

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too. 

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt. 

You know he is there. 

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him. 

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. 

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried. 

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world. 

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward. 

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him. 

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family. 

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this. 

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate. 

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago. 

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?" 

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed. 

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence. 

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old. 

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach. 

You no longer blame yourself. 

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago. 

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

 "This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there. 

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought. 

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away. 

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory. 

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

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

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS BI HAN | SUB ZERO MK1 WITH S/O

A/N: I'm going to write headcanons about all the men in MK, I'm going to write one shots, fanfic, I'm going crazy and more horny for each one of them... I'm gay as f*ck. Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post.

TW: sfw, headcanons in general, afab reader, smut.

He is an aggressive lover. I mean, he's not going to hit you or anything, but he's extremely cold (I laughed after remembering that he's fucking sub zero lol), he's the type to talk the basics, even to you, so don't do it "silly" questions for him, if he's okay or if he ate, he'll answer: "-I'm here in front of you so obviously I'm fine." "-Don't worry, I know how to take care of myself, I'm not a child."

He likes to show his love for you through actions, like buying you something you've been wanting for a while, like giving you a bouquet of flowers, small but meaningful, Bi-Han doesn't know how to express love for anyone, I'm sorry, But it's the truth, but he tries for you, even if it's not the best.

Bi-Han cares about you even if he doesn't express it, he knows that he is a frustrated and wrong man in several actions, even if he wants to lie to himself that he doesn't, you both know that, but if you haven't given up on him, and You're still on his side, it means you love him, and he values that.

Bi Han won't let you work outside of his sight, that is, he will want you at home, you can beg or try to argue, he will say: "-Your job is to be my husband/wife, take care of our house, me and yourself, I can't allow you to go around." -He spoke calmly, but seriously, and that was really his thought, he just wants you to be close to him, he is afraid, terrified, of losing you one day. -

Bi Han is insecure, even if he never admits it, he gets jealous very quickly, he knows that you are a beautiful person, so he knows that many ninjas lust after you, even though you are married to him, so please don't flirt with other men or women, this man is capable of crazy things and the silent treatment he will give you after that will be for an indefinite period of time.

You are always on his mind in every mission, Kuai Liang and Tomas sometimes notice their grandmaster looking into space and perhaps, a transparent smile appears quickly, while Bi-Han looks at the landscape on the horizon, thinking about you. "-I hope (Y/N) is okay" -He said to himself, shaking his head soon after and returning to the mission.

When he notices that you are sad he becomes worried, but he just crosses his arms under his chest, and looks at you waiting for an explanation for such behavior, if you are upset about something that someone from the Lin Kuei clan did to you, consider that person dead, your grand master husband will immediately leave the house forming a deadly ice dagger in his hand, returning some time later, with a determined and blood-stained look. "-Okay, wipe your tears, the problem has already been solved, let's have dinner." -He spoke seriously and calmly, as he wiped the blood from his hands on a cloth, heading to the kitchen with heavy steps and giving you a look, so you could follow him.

Bi-Han lies down on the bed next to you, but he can't sleep for several nights, he finds himself watching you, your face so peaceful next to him, the ninja monster of the lin kuei, you look so good and comfortable next to him, he really wonders why you married him, you deserve someone better.

He covers you more with the sheet, caressing your cheek lightly with his thumb, while whispering on rare occasions, that he loved you.

"-I really love you, you know that? I'm sorry I'm not the best man for you (Y/N), I really want you forever by my side, and I'll protect you from this world, whatever the cost, what do I do and for me and for you." -Bi Han told you while you slept, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, while looking at the moon soon after, it would be another night that he would be haunted by his own demons.

Bi-Han's favorite couple's activity with you is strolling to a lake on the Lin Kuei clan's estate, sitting with you on the cool grass as the two of you watch nature, the swans on the lake, the cloudy sky announcing an upcoming rain. would soon come, the trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind, as Bi Han talked about his mother, he really loved her, and he is happy to see that you were really interested in listening, as he talked about childhood memories, making little sculptures of ice with his fingertips to represent the story he told, it's these moments with you that make everything he did, even the cruelest things, worth it.

He may not be loyal to the clan, but he is to you. He's the type that if someone comes at him, he has to be held back so he doesn't punch them for such audacity. Ex:

"-Bi Han, are you going to come with us-"

"-I'm a married man"

"-Bi Han, we just asked-"

"-I'm a married man, I told you." -He says pointing to the wedding ring and leaving. They were just going to ask him to drink a little, but as Bi Han said, he is a married man to you.

He doesn't like nicknames, only during sex, other than that he will call you by your name, or "my husband/my wife", he likes the idea of being called "husband" by you too, so if you If you refer to him like that, in public, he will melt inside, and smile slightly sideways behind the mask.

He is a wild man in bed, taking out his frustrations and anger on your beautiful pussy, mouth and body in general.

Bi Han loves blowjobs, if he could, you would be kneeling between his legs 24 hours a day, with your pretty face taking his entire cock in your mouth - I feel sorry for you dear, this man's cock is big and thick, he's literally going to hit it down your throat easily, leaving you breathless while your husband enjoys watching you choke on his dick like that -

He likes to degrade you in sex, it's a way for him to mark you as his and release his frustrations too, he will fuck you roughly, especially fucking you with his dick stuck in your pussy, with him lifting you easily while his hips they aggressively pound against your tight hole.

"-You're a great slut, you know? Taking my cock like a desperate bitch."

"-Oh fuck, you feel so good, don't you? Your pussy was made for me, the grand master lin kuei, and only mine, only I deserve you, do you hear? I'm just going to fuck that beautiful pussy until you can only think about how You want my dick inside you."

"-Do I really have a little whore as my husband/wife? How lucky for me then."

"-I'm going to fill you up... I'm going to fill that tight pussy of yours, and you want that, don't you? You want every drop of my cum, you're a hungry slut."

He loves to call you: "slut", "dirty bitch", "private whore", "nymph", "good boy/girl with a tight pussy". Most of the sex sessions you have with Bi Han end with him cumming on your face, pussy or belly, painting everything with his cum and leaving you panting with your legs shaking - for him, sex really is only good when you are weak from cumming on his dick, and overstimulated, with a swollen clitoris - He loves many sexual positions, but he prefers:

Cowgirl’s Helper: He likes to see you on top of him, your hands on his chest, while one of his hands squeezes your ass, and the other is behind his head. Bi Han watches you get impaled on his dick, stretching your pussy slowly, as your pussy drools on his pulsing dick, he looks at you, smiling smugly when he sees the rise of his dick in your womb. He would just groan in response to your desperate moans, watching your body move as you whimpered to cum - he wasn't going to let you cum yet, and if you did, he was going to punish the hell out of you, giving you at least five painful orgasms and pleasant that night -

Stand and Deliver: He loves seeing you bent over, your waist is sore from being bent over for him, but he loves seeing your ass and waist on top, thrusting into your pussy while pulling your hands behind your back, he would go so hard on your hole that your feet would leave the ground, you could feel the burn of the speed of Bi Han's dick in your pussy, but he wouldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he left you a trembling mess full of cum - while calling you a desperate slut his cock -

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[juniperdugong]

Creature Double Feature - S.coups

fluff - wc, 902

idol!scoups x gn!reader

NOT PROOFREAD

You and Seungcheol have been dating for just about 3 months now. Although, with his job occupying an annoying amount of his time it's felt more like 1 month. The upside to this though is that you are still in the midst of your cutesy honeymoon phase.

Getting embarrassed of quick kisses and still feeling nervous when holding hands. Sure you hadn't been physical, you hadn't even spent a night at his place, but the pace never seemed to bother Seungcheol so it never bothered you.

In fact, you hadn't even begun to think about all of this... until tonight.

One of your coveted movie date nights with Cheol. He'd go to your place or you'd go to his, it'd take you guys forever to pick a movie, once you did you would snuggle up against each other, and at the end of the night, you would part ways with a kiss. That's how it was; how it always was.

Tonight was special, it would be the last night you were able to spend together before Cheol headed off to Japan for tour and subsequently, he would be missing your 4-month anniversary. You've told him that he doesn't need to celebrate every little milestone but he insists that they're all important. And although he's never told you outright it also gives him a chance to show how much you mean to him amongst his schedule which gets busier and busier.

So, in solemn early celebration, it was a creature double feature! Aka, you both agreed on watching Monsters Inc. and Monsters University back to back. A decision partially made off of an argument of which film was better.

Now, halfway through Monsters University, your eyes began to droop. Currently splayed out like a blanket on top of Cheol, your head resting on his chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart setting the tempo for a lullaby in which the lyrics were whatever Mike and Sulli were saying on screen.

"Hey, you okay?" Cheol's voice cuts the melody.

"Hmm?" Eyes heavy you look up and see a concerned but loving smile on his face.

"You haven't said anything in 15 minutes, you always have something to say when we're watching a movie."

"Sorry, I'm just getting a bit sleepy." A yawn escapes you mid-sentence which in turn makes Seungcheol yawn, a testament to your closeness.

"We can stop for tonight, I'll bring you back to-"

"It's okay, Cheol..." You dig your face deeper into his chest, borderline motor-boating the man.

"Babe?" he's looking at you in confusion as you cling to his body tighter.

"Yes?"

"I can take you home-"

"Just a few more minutes like this, Cheolie..." Your voice drags out in exhaustion. He pats your head in silent agreement. As you drift all those thoughts come to mind, and embarrassment rises in you, but the hand on your head gives you solace. This was the perfect pace for the 2 of you.

10 minutes later and you're fully passed out. A light snore alerts Cheol to your state and he chuckles to himself, adjusting the blanket to fall on top of both of you. His hand goes to rest on the small of your back and subconsciously he matches his breathing to yours.

He just stares at your sleeping figure in complete adoration and contentment, cursing the tour for stripping moments like this away from him for a few weeks. He knows just how lucky he is to have someone willing to put up with his job and schedule, to have someone who doesn't mind his absence, and here in this moment, seeing you completely peaceful, he knows how lucky he is to have you.

You wake up to the sound of upbeat band music as the credits roll in. You're slow to realize where you are and it's only when you hear a deep groan that you remember that you're still at Seungcheol's place. Groggily looking up you see him knocked out, arms still cradling you, trapping you to his chest.

Any movement you make is met by a discomforted murmur as Cheol continues to hold you close. You lose the fight rather quickly, knowing that as long as he's asleep he's not letting you go anywhere. So you lay your head back down and let sleep take you again, a smile rising on both you and Cheol's lips in complete domestic bliss. Your first official night together; something you'll put together later and it'll make both of you blush.

--7 hours later--

A loud banging on the front door wakes Cheol.

"Oh my god, my fucking flight!" He's in a sudden state of panic as his hands roam around your bodies for his phone. 27 messages and 10 missed calls from his manager. "Shit shit shit-"

He tries to move but the weight of your body on his stops him in his tracks. For just a minute he completely relaxes seeing you still sound asleep despite his volume. "I love you." he whispers placing a peck on your forehead. He knows you won't hear him and it's probably too soon for him to tell you this but he's certain his feelings are true.

Plus, it's the small thing he does moments before pushing you off of him to get his things ready. (Don't worry, he'll pepper your face in kisses until the moment his feet are out the door.)

{If you're interested in being on the Taglist for my Seventeen works please let me know!! Requests are open!}

{A/N: A little something while I work on Perfection and the angst Cheol fic that y'all voted on. Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed. Have a nice week lovelies!!}

[rowretro]

𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪

𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙍𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙐 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𓆩♡𓆪 ☽⋆˚｡⋆˚.

✰warnings: yandere themes, kissing, making out ish, a lot of fluff after they makeup<3

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

Why would y/n care if the man who hurt her, kidnapped her, forced her to live with him in his home to go see other women? she hates him after all doesn't she? she wishes she does, but she just can't. He's so sweet to her despite the fact he abducted her purely because he loves her, he stopped his obsessive killing of men who even look in her direction, and now he even trusts her enough to leave, just the bedroom door unlocked. He literally killed for her, of course he'd die for her.

Y/n hates that she thinks he'd do such a thing, she received a picture from a friend on her snap, of Riki walking alongside another woman. They looked so close... she was flirtatious with him, arm around his shoulders, and he smiled at her. The woman being someone she loathed, a bitch who has beaten many girls almost to death, and tried to use y/ns personal life against her. Basically a bitch. To say she was mad was an understatement. The man who abducted her, killed for her, and treated her like a princess, forcing her to be his is with another fucking woman?!

She flinched a little as the door suddenly shut, interrupting her out of her thoughts. "baby im home~" he called. Y/n glared at the wall, waiting for him to enter the bedroom. "Why didn't you come to the door pretty girl?" he asked as Y/n frowned. "Am i pretty girl? or is she?!" y/n asked, as Riki sat opposite her on their bed. "who exactly is her?" he asked, a little confused "the side-chick that had her grubby hands all over you. im sorry, you drag me here claiming that you love me, killed a classmate that confessed to me, and used his many crimes as an excuse, only for you to cheat with a basic bitch who does nothing but whores around spending mommy's money and using daddy's name to defend her crimes?!" she lets out, clearly upset.

However riki just smiled, his eyes staring at her endearingly "my sweetheart is jealous~" he cooed as he tried to reach for her, mad y/n slapped his hands away. "ok ok cool cool... that bitch has been getting on my nerves lately... she filmed you getting dressed so I had to play the part to show her her place... don't worry I haven't killed her... yet..." he smirks, turning on the news. There she was, the girl's photo, somewhat blurred, being exposed for her many offences that she coverred up. "As for the video, deleted forever..." he added as y/n just sat there, unsure of what to do.

A few hours of silence pass, Riki was watching TV, as y/n finished up a few tiny chores. Seeing him, she heaved a quiet sigh, and slipped in the seat beside him. "Im cold" she said staring at him as he looked her up and down "Of course you are, it's autumn and you're wearing a thin-strapped croptop- and the material of those jeans are way too thin." he complained as Y/n frowned. "I said Im cold!" she whined as Riki snickerred. "you have to pay me first." he said as she bit her lip.

She leaned in, catching his soft, plush, perfect lips in a loving kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, as they let their tongues collide, one of his hands rested at her head, as she placed her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss as much as she could. As she pulls away, she leaves a few soft kisses down his jawline to his neck, and sinks into his warm embrace. "Dont you dare cheat on me... I'll cry." She mumbled as she snuggled against him. "God you must think im insane if im ever willing enough to cheat on you. do you know how long ive waited for you?!" Riki asked.

He unzipped his hoodie, wrapping it around her a little, as he yanked a soft blanket to wrap around them "What do you wanna watch?" he asked "I know i've watched it a lot but... Let's watch so not worth it and order some nice food hmm?" Y/n suggests as he kisses her nose "Anything for you my lifeline~" he smiled, pulling out his phone to order food.

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

a/n: yeah i don't even know about this... hope u enjoyed it tho<3

[yanderecandystore]

I love the yandere monster story, can I make a wish for some yandere monster boy naga who is looking for a mate to carry his eggs and live the rest of his life together forever?

I don't condone yandere shit irl, but if you bang a naga man someday I'll give you a pass and a cookie, you mad lad. Not proofread enough lmao, also sorry but I really don't know how to type s e x.

Tw/Tags: straight up NSFW/+18 scene (written by someone who struggles to imagine sex- So we don't guarantee quality) // not very descriptive genitals, if at all // the usual yandereness + breeding kink; possessive behavior; manipulation; suffocation; implied oviposition but not really cause I'm dumb // you're a literal desert mailman💀 I'm sorry // brief mentions of troubled family life/past trauma // language barrier // self-conscious reader // willing yet slightly scared reader.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Writing in the sand [Yandere!Male!Naga x AFAB!Messenger!Reader - One shot]

Being a messenger was actually a lot more dangerous than it seemed at first, how many times have you and your camel met with bandits, scammers, difficult terrain, awful weather, people who would tell you the wrong direction for shits and giggles?? MANY times, but did you ever consider quitting and going back to the tea shop of your very judgmental parents or worse- To accept the offer of personal servant to that weird queen from the faraway lands who wouldn't shut up about how much better her kingdom was?? NO!

I mean a little bit. Just a little bit. Occasionally, I mean her kingdom was really pretty, though constant snow sounds like a pain in the ass, and giving up the freedom you currently have for either a strict monarch or your family was NOT something you were planning to do, ever!

The first time you got off the borders to send messages for far away people was the day you truly felt alive for once! The desert itself was your greatest rival and yet you faced it head down after that day- Sure, you were unprepared at first and there's still plenty to learn out there but it was EXCITING!!

You fought (ran away as quickly as you could) many groups trying to get a coin out of your body, or your life! Or your camel!! King Mustard wasn't the same after the "giant scorpion with that group of thieves" incident that happened, the worst part is that it happened twice though the people were different at least. Your personal theory is that the scorpion WAS the same from before, and that it has been following you through your journeys and it probably was looking for revenge!!

You told that story to so many people that now it's hard to go someplace without repeating yourself, it's weird how even though you're never at one place for too long, most people know you! You're, humbly speaking, sort of a big deal in the great drylands- Not known for your bravery but mostly for your constant running mouth and your adapted technique in how to extract cactus juice safely from a cactus with 70% success of no cactus drunkenness! (100% Needle-safe not included).

Stopping in a town was obviously the safest place for you and your camel, but was also probably one of the most rewarding parts of your trips, of course because you always need to have plenty of resources out there in the sand but also because… Well, as much as you loved every second of exploration and travel, you were admittedly a very lonely person.

It's not something you like to tell others, as you have already experienced people doubting your capability of being a messenger if you get so "emotional" over being far away from people ("I told you so!" Yeah, thanks mum.). It was a time you could feel at least safe and… Sometimes welcomed.

But it wasn't always a lonely trip, after all, King Mustard was here! Him with his big personality was always the heart of the party! Everyday was fun with him, even if he couldn't speak to you… However, that doesn't mean you haven't found great comfort in your travels, you probably haven't noticed this yourself yet, but [y/n]...

You are a very dear person.

Every person you've helped along the way in your trips, just by coincidence finding them, and landing them a hand in the hot and harsh reality of the desert thinks of you dearly. You have friends! It's just that you don't see them very often… If at all. The desert has a funny way of getting people closer, people who struggle to survive in its environment, and yet it also drifts them away- The wind blows in every direction separating every small particle of sand, and maybe one day they'll meet again, or maybe not. Cruel was it, with its breathtaking beauty and extremely cold personality for someone so hot and merciless.

You often associate the desert with its forgotten god. You tend to talk about it as a person rather than just an environment of harsh conditions, you always remember to talk to it, hoping it would listen in a way. You were pretty much by yourself out there, but thinking that someone was listening to your travels made you feel safer, perhaps not as tormented as the blazing Sun would leave you to believe. You were being watched, and protected, you just knew it!

The proof of it came from one of the greatest encounters you ever had during your travels.

It was really hot that day, King Mustard seemed really tired and you were melting under the blazing heat- You two needed shelter and fast! And suddenly, as if the gods listened to your prayers!-(But quickly threw you two middle fingers)- An immense sandstorm was approaching!! For someone as cautious as you, you couldn't understand where the hell it came from!! It was so sudden and just- There was no indication of it!! At all!!

You got knocked out, and when you woke up- You were… Somewhere strange, like an underground oasis of sorts, hidden in the desert there was a cave of luscious greenery and drinkable water, it was magical how big the place was!! You thought you had died and went straight to Paradise!!

At least, you thought so when you saw a very large and handsome man staring back at you, smiling gently. He had tanned skin and a REALLY long, almost platinum hair! He looked so gorgeous with his green cat eyes that you almost forgot to breathe!

You asked the man if he was an angel, and he responded to you in a language you didn't understand. You were 100% certain that the man was really an angel and yet when he revealed the lower part of his body your face dropped immediately, terror slightly setting in. He was half snake, half a giant snake at that! His tail seemed endless, those dark scales were so pretty yet so terrifying! The gold markings seemed very regal and holy in nature but the endless darkness almost seemed to eat it all up! Like a demon!

You freaked out at first, but when you looked at his eyes, his gentle face- His expression of concern, those big bright eyes, you noticed he really didn't seem to have any ill intent towards you, perhaps you were misjudging him for something he was not. After breathing in and out, you calmed down, never taking your eyes from him, you felt comforted as you realized this creature was the one who saved you out there! And who saved your camel!! He was still really scared of your snake buddy, but you made sure to soothe him.

Long story short, you became friends with a human-snake guy who seemed genuinely very cool! It's a shame you didn't understand a word he said… You suspect that maybe he speaks in a very ancient language and perhaps this means he was REALLY old!! And yet, he seemed just about your age, and you got to hangout with him during your free time.

Poor thing, he seemed trapped down here (though to be fair, it is a fabulous prison to be in-) and he really wanted to catch up with times! So you made it your duty to help him understand the new world, you have no idea why he is here and how long did he live here separated from the rest of the world, but now that you knew how to get there and how to get out- You made it your mission to teach him everything you knew about the modern world.

And although the language barrier was massive, you two somehow got to learn something very special about each other- He shared with you his name, "Rakaski", and you got to teach him yours.

~"[y/n]"~ His accent was heavy, and yet you felt something flutter inside you whenever you heard him call your name. You remember him repeating your name over and over again as if he wanted to memorize how to say it.

After hearing his name, you made sure to research it, trying to find something that could lead you to know what language he was talking in- But no books nor people seemed to know how to speak it, except for one book you found, a fairytale book that was so old that it was a nightmare trying to understand the vernacular! But it didn't seem like a very "old" old kind of book, it was probably made after the language had changed, there were a lot of words that you didn't recognize.

The book never explained the name's meaning really, but it was always used as a common word- And given the context of the story you read, it seemed to mean either "falling" or "god"? Well, you're not very sure, since the book was confusing as hell, and your interpretation of the story was very mixed- Was it about a desert deity or a man that kept tripping over in the sand?! Seriously, why did it have to be so confusing!?

In the end, you still didn't understand the book and neither did you find out anything about Rakaski's name. At least you know it was older than your home kingdom, which was pretty cool.

Either way, the lack of communication never stopped you from coming down that hidden paradise to talk to your best friend every opportunity you could! King Mustard can be very squeamish whenever you guys try to get down there, he really disliked going there and you assumed it was because he was claustrophobic, which you already knew he was. So, today you'll leave him in the shade and get down by yourself, you don't want to stress the poor thing.

"M-Mustard! King Mustard Junior The Third, stop pushing me around!! You know you're a lot heavier than me! Seriously, this isn't funny!!" Ah, King Mustard, for a camel you're really just a scaredy cat! You push him away gently as you can, he keeps positioning himself in front of the hole you want to jump in.

"Hey stop!! If you don't want to come then fine, but let me get in! Please! I'll be back soon!" The massive animal was starting to get a little too agitated, and you knew better than to try to force your way.

"Mustard, seriously you're starting to scare me, you know I'll be back soon, please let me get down." You don't know if it was the deep magical connection of friendship that made him understand you and realize that he scared you, or if he suddenly felt disinterested in playing with you right now.

Taking by how the camel sassily walked away you're starting to think it was the second option- Of was he genuinely insulted by your stubbornness? Who knows.

"Sigh… You always get like this when we pass by." Though you can't really blame him, you know he still distrusts Rakaski, but come on it's been a year! And Rakaski has never hurt any of you two! Sure, he was a bit intimidating at first but he had a good heart, you just knew that.

Compared to the men back in your hometown? Rakaski was a saint, you were sure of it.

You had slid through the sandy hole and into the luscious underground with ease, you started to call for him, but before you could even yell out "Ra" you saw him not so far away, seemingly very occupied.

"Awn, guess you're decorating! Have I come at a bad time?" You walked to him and joked despite being aware he wouldn't understand you.

The way his face lit up and turned to face you was just so precious, he seemed very excited!

~"[y/n]!! [y/n]!! It's really good to see you again!! I was already worried you would never come."~ He talked just like you, committing the same mistake of talking as if the other would understand- You had no clue what he said, but as he coiled around you and his arms squeezed you oh so dearly you understood exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, yeah- Missed you too-" You never knew how to deal with anything social, period, and being flustered at someone who wasn't even human was not a first but it never got easier. But with him, at least, you feel like you don't need to pretend that you don't feel slightly flustered by his attention. Gods know you're a very easy target for large and very well built men.

After he let you go, you realized he was just building a new nest for him, so you decided to help him as well. It was already pretty much done when you got in, but you felt like he deserved a "fancy" bed so you helped him decorate with flowers and some of the trinkets you bought for him, he just loved human trinkets!

And by the gods, you knew you were currently in Spring, but these flowers?! They were just so damn pretty, it's a real shame that your traveling is mostly done in sand, occasionally though you have to go to the East to deliver important letters and gifts and you just kinda love that place! Every time you go, they're experiencing a different season, and it all changes so much, it's beautiful!!

"Oooh!! Maybe I should bring you flowers from one of the neighboring kingdoms, it'll be a way to show you the world since you can't leave…" You think out loud, and of course, he looks at you a little confused- And yet he repeats the word you said.

"Flowers?" He repeats it as if he didn't understand what you said, yet liked how you said it.

"Yes! Flowers!-" You say pointing to the flowers in his nest and surrounding you two, he quickly understands it, it seems.

~"Oh! Flowers! Oh, that's what it's called to you? Great heaven's, humans are always changing, aren't they?"~ He starts to laugh, you… Sort of don't understand the joke, but perhaps "flowers" just sounds funny to him.

He patted your head as he laughed, as if trying to congratulate you on making him laugh (I mean, getting this man to laugh was a challenge, you bet even without the language barrier).....

Although, it felt more like a "reward" sort of situation… As if he was rewarding you for… Being so entertaining, you suppose! Still, that's probably just all in your head, besides you know well when someone is being condescending to you, you're sure of it! Years inside your family's house has made you a pro in spotting bad apples from far away. I mean, you like to think you do, to be fair Rakaski was a little difficult to read, and sometimes he did things that you probably weren't sure of what they meant.

But then again, he was a very old half snake dude trapped inside a cave somewhere along the rock formations spread all over an unforgiving desert, his social life was probably a lot worse than yours, and who's to say that his antics aren't based on his own culture? Perhaps snake people like to coil around each other to show affection, even if it's really hard to breathe like this.

Things weren't so complicated between you two, however, as you guys have invented a form of simple and more direct communication through pointing to objects and scribbling on paper. You had thought about using sign language, so you learned a couple of words and tried to use with him-

"So- This means that- Hm..?"

But before you could teach him he already was talking to you through hand signs you didn't understand, he was very well adapted and you only knew a few like "hello", "you", "me" and "see you soon"- Which would be the most used one for you two.

"Huh, you always impress me, maybe you should be the one teaching me-" You bowed down, genuinely impressed with what you saw, and he seemed very content with himself as he smugly pretended to wave and throw kisses to a nonexistent audience. His ego was always a bit inflated, wasn't it?

You decided to cut your visit short and return back to King Mustard as you didn't want to leave him waiting for too long. It's funny how neither him nor Rakaski liked each other despite sharing a diva personality. As you waved your goodbye, Rakaski decided to give you one last big hug.

A hug that didn't seem to end at all. His body wrapping around you and leaving you to feel surrounded by darkness. This usually happened so it didn't come as any surprise. You tried to tickle him as that usually worked.

"Come on now, you know I'll be back soon!" You laughed as you tried to provoke him, his belly was so sensitive that you could see him contracting and trying to avoid giggling.

But he didn't let you go. Your attempt only made him restrict you further, the snake body trapping your hands with its weight.

You were well aware of Rakaski's animalistic tendencies, for example he was cold blooded and constantly held you to try to gain some height, like he is doing now.

You know that when he yawns his jaw unhinges and opens so inhumanly wide that you have to close your eyes so you won't have any more nightmares about it.

You know he is nocturnal so he is constantly feeling a little too sleepy whenever you two hangout, as you often come to see him during the day (which was something you did for safety, though you sometimes worry he is having trouble sleeping because of you-).

And you also know that snakes tend to suffocate their prey with their body before eating them whole.

While trying not to judge him as a human eating monster you still feel very, very terrified of the slight chance he might be hungry and has forgotten you're not food. The more you struggle the tighter it gets, and it doesn't help that his skin is so cold, it makes your nerves flare up as you can hear him growling with what you hope is not hunger.

"RAKASKI-!!" You yell, you couldn't help it, you were starting to feel dazed. While closing your eyes you felt his lower body shift and relax, you felt arms hugging you a lot more gently than the suffocating sensation from before. If it wasn't for his lazy eyes and the internal chuckling you can feel in his chest you would say he was actually hungry for you. He was just trying to scare you.

"Sigh, you'll be the death of me- Seriously you scared me to death!" You tried to push him off you, but he basically threw his entire body weight on you as you fell to the ground with your back on the soft yet not very ideally comfortable grass.

"Shhhh~!" He nuzzles on you while hugging your stomach. Normally he would have let you go now after petting your head or pretending to bite your neck just for funsies- But today he is very much not letting you go, at all.

Okay, you really didn't want to address the situation, you weren't planning on ever talking about it of course but- By the gods, you knew better than to assume his playful smile was just his usual silly self.

Oh, who were you kidding, you knew it from the moment you came in and saw the nest he was making, it's not like you haven't noticed his chest rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe just by talking with you. You wanted to leave because you noticed that perhaps you took the wrong month to visit him.

It was mating season, wasn't it? Why now? Why today?! And why WERE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT?!!!

"Okay I think I need to think about this a little more- I mean you're clearly not thinking straight right, I'm not even a snake lady, man!" You try to push him off you as you avoid eye contact, the worst part is that he was fairly attractive for someone's who's lower body was just one huge snake tail.

He wouldn't budge, he only shifted his head to look at your face, even if you were avoiding him you could feel his smirk creeping around the corner of your vision, you wouldn't be surprised if he knew what you also knew.

I mean, it wasn't a secret you liked him was it? You thought you didn't mind him noticing this but this sudden desire just feels like it's happening all too fast and you're worried it might be just a one time thing, that he is acting like this out of instinct not out of actual desire towards you. And well you never really did this before, I mean not with someone like him, at all! But you had experiences with people before.

Bad experiences. The ones that would leave someone worried for years that they're not good enough to anyone. Were you being cautious or were you just being self-conscious? Were you scared of him not liking you when this high of his diminished? Maybe you just weren't sure if this was a good idea.

"I don't know if I'm really ready for this." You confess, looking back at him- Hoping to find your answer.

And he looked back at you with a sad expression, did he understand what you said? Did he understand what you meant at least? He looked so concerned and genuinely "awake" despite his current very urgent instincts. He held your hand and kissed it for reassurance, you didn't notice you were crying until your vision was blurry and your chest was aching.

"Sorry.." You tried to wipe them yourself, you don't know why you're apologizing. Rakaski didn't seem to take it well, he was about to say something before shaking his head vigorously and wiping your tears himself. He came closer to look you in the eyes, stop staring elsewhere, you won't find comfort anywhere else but those eyes.

He decides to come off of you and give you some space despite his initial reluctance, the gentle and almost warm presence of reassurance leaving with him- And before he could give you space you decided to make the first move yourself.

You kissed him, hoping perhaps he would understand the gesture, and he did! He hugged you and kissed you back returning your neediness… Though coming in with a lot more desperation than you thought. Not seconds after forcing his tongue in despite your unisseanes.

I mean, it 's good! He isn't being horrific at it is just that you have underestimated how badly he seemed to want this. And although you're just as interested in this as he is, you're worried you may not hold to the same durability as he has.

Today was the day. Today had to be day, and he wouldn't have it any other way. To wait longer would be torture and you best believe this man was patient. He wasn't expecting you to almost reject him at first of course, oh you almost gave the immortal a heart attack!

He shouldn't have been so pushy, he knows that, but having your soft lips on his was so worth it that he couldn't help himself as he pinned you down again, ah… It's a shame the nest is so far away, this is not a very classy way to do things.

Then again, ripping off your clothes with no regards was probably not very refined either, humans needed a lot more courting than he was aware of- But it was fine! You were doing just great, you were being so good to him, he wishes he could praise you in your own language so you could understand him.

~"You're so lovely for something so fragile, thank you for accepting me- You have no idea how long I've spent being trapped here knowing damn well there's not a single other like me out there."~ He would praise you in his own tongue in frantic breaths while kissing your neck and nibbling in your ear, while his lower body made sure to lock you in place, you were a little scared, weren't you?

~"I'm genuinely sorry for having to put you in this position but I can't take it anymore- But I know you want this as well, I know you do!"~ He usually was very talkative, but there was something in his voice that sounded shaky, desperate, and his hands were too confused on where and what to grab that you noticed he seemed just as inexperienced as you were.

Well, at least you thought so before he spread your legs and started to rock back and forth in your lower region- It's not exactly that he is inexperienced, but he is very much off his mind right now- His movements aren't uncertain, they're just frantic for any release. Not that he won't tend to you as well, he just really needs this right now. But you'll understand, you always do. You always treat him so well, despite the monster he has become.

~"It'll hurt, and I'm not sure if it's only a little. I promise to make it worth it later to you."~

You were struggling to keep up with his weird and off putting rhythm- He was just so ready for this, it's been on his mind ever since he found you unconscious inside his natural prison, but he knew better than to be selfish to someone he'll have to share a nest with.

~"It'll be great don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be well taken care of. It'll be incredible, my treasure."~

You shivered when he went from humping your lower region to undressing kissing it almost as passionately as he did your mouth- He should probably move a little slower considering he changes activities way too quickly but hey it felt better than the awkward dry humping.

It wasn't bad, but it lacked a bit of finesse- Not like his careful and calculated attention to your privates right now-

"Humans need a lot more work than I remember, but does that mean we can make it last longer? Would you want that, treasure? [y/n]?" Rakaski was playing with it almost as if he never looked at something like a naked human before, but it was a lie- He was absolutely just trying to tease you with every poke and flick.

He ran his finger down slowly before reaching an opening and pulling it inside, at least one to feel you inside. It's lovely that you arch your back to the littlest of things, and although he doesn't understand your words, moans are hardly hard to misinterpret.

"Slower then? I guess I was being too unprepared, I'll be honest that it's more fun than I expected. If this is the work I have to do every time then I'll gladly accept." Human courting was fascinating to him, though now he understands why, he can't just expect you to take it all in with a little help- And helping someone never tasted so sweet.

You were feeling embarrassed by his stare as he licked you out and further tried to spread you- Trying to ease the inevitable soreness that would come but damn, did he have to look at you like that?! It made you feel a little dirty, a little too embarrassed to entertain his idea, for someone who seemed so eager to shove it in without any foreplay he was really taking his time now!

You grabbed his hair carefully, you didn't really notice what you were doing and to be honest you weren't sure how to continue with this but Rakaski looked at you in awe… His smugness was replaced with a look of pure adoration- His pupils wide and round as he expects you to guide him.

It gave you a bit more confidence knowing he trusted you to hold his head and sort of help him find the right pacing.

You don't remember for how long it went, you just remember that it ended with you on top of him, going at your own pace. He held your hips not stopping you to go as fast or as slow as you wanted but rather because he felt very uncomfortable NOT holding every centimeter of you. He needed to grab into something and your sweet flesh was exactly that.

You woke up in his nest, feeling a little disoriented, memories of what happened a little foggy, but you were sure it wasn't a dream considering the soreness in your thighs- It was hard moving.

You sighed, feeling weirdly satisfied- Well, that's not the right word, more like… Well, genuinely happy.

You tried around, and you saw Rakaski curled up into a ball, sleeping so peacefully and yet with that little mischievous smirk in his face you just knew he was dreaming about it.

You turned your body to face him, deciding to close your eyes and sleep a little more.

Until you remembered you left your camel outside.

"HOLY GODS, KING MUSTARD!!" You jumped up, trying to run as quickly as you could towards the entrance- But you couldn't even leave the nest when Rakaski wrapped his tail on you and pulled you closer.

"WAIT! It 's my camel!! I forgot I left him-"

"Stay." He said in a very half awake voice.

"You can talk…?"

"Stay." Rakaski wrapped himself around you, as he buried his face in your neck. You weren't sure if he was understanding what you said, or if he only understood the meaning of that one word.

"Rakaski, I'm just going to check on him, I'll be back soon, I promise-" You pushed his chest away. You shouldn't have done that.

Rakaski tightened his grip around your body.

"Stay. [y/n]. You're not supposed to walk so soon. Stay still, no mother should walk so early after mating…" He still sounds so sleepy, so innocent, but his half opened gaze was not… friendly.

"Rak- AH!-" Tighter, and tighter, and more tighter. He knows damn well that whenever you get to that camel you're leaving him for gods know how long, but as he stated before, soon to be mothers shouldn't walk around in the dead of night especially since he knows humans don't deal well with the coldness of the desert during this hour.

It's better to stay here and let him take care of you while you're now waiting for his kids, even if you aren't aware of it. He isn't sure how long hybrids take to be born, but he wasn't to be there for you every step of the way.

"Shhhh…. Go back to sleep, stop struggling, it is not good for you…" He kissed you goodnight as he suffocated you back to sleep.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.

BUT ALSO

Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.

To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt

Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.

I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍

Worries

"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.

"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.

"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.

"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.

"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.

Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.

"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.

"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.