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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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Can you write How would jacaerys, aemond, benjicot, and cregan court the reader? Thank youuu

Benjicot Blackwood was a kind man, a sweetheart to you, a lite awkward but he made it endearing and sweet.

Benjicot knew that there was only so much that his house could offer you in comparison to other houses, but he made sure that you were never alone as he was always by your side; providing you with his company all the while making you well versed with Raventree Hall and all it encompassed.

He treated you better then most men of the realm by treating you with respect and dignity which meant a lot more to you then meaningless expensive gifts of jewellery, as you knew that with Ben you’d be treated as a living breathing human, rather then be considered a possession out of duty.

Benjicot practically worshiped you and the ground you walked on. He was loyal to you and only you and he made that evident with how often he spoke about you in high regard as he stands by your side strong and firm like an oak tree. Benjicot would gladly go down fighting for you for your courting meant that much to him as he just wants to prove to you that he would forever be the better choice in suitor.

Which he is, he definitely is. He’s the perfect man and would treat you like you were the one sat upon the iron throne.

He’s probably the one to ask your father to court you before anyone else could get you before him, he’s determined to have you as his spouse but does it in the most sweetest and respectful way possible that would end up making you melt.

Benjicot didn’t need to be the richest man in Westeros to win you over because his words and his actions spoke louder than meaningless transactions of coin. He would defend you to his last breath while holding you in his arms as he kisses you.

Benjicot was like a warm fireplace as you burrowed your head into his neck, never having felt safer then you did in his arms as he whispered sweet honeyed words of how he’d protect and watch over you as you sleep.

The man would raise hell if you’d come to harm but that’s something you were made well aware of and had you finding safety in his arms faster then most.

Aemond Targaryen could be a possessive man when it came to courting you, such as blessing you with his gifts of jewellery that bore the same blue sapphire that was embedded into his face, a stark reminder to all who had your heart.

He trusts you, which was rarity on its own, but he didn’t trust everyone else. and so if he found out that someone was encroaching on what was his? Aemond would be quick to make an example of them during his training sessions, making sure that there would be enough eyes to witness the persons humiliation -yours included- as he effortlessly knocked them down within minutes.

Aemond expressed his interest in very unique ways and would bolster the fact that he rides the largest dragon in Westeros. -Reader and cannibal from my other series would scoff at this- along with how much safer you were with him, and he would tell you how he’d gladly set towns aflame if anything were to happen with you with a deadpan face.

He keeps a close eye on you that it’s borderline suffocating but at least you’ll have someone who’ll immediately know what you were feeling through sheer observation, where he’d take you aside and show a softer side to you as he asks you how he could help you feel better.

Aemond could be soft if he wanted but I think the biggest sign that he was certain he wanted to be with you and that’s by showing you his sapphire eye. He’s very much still insecure about it despite it being so long and so many things had happened since then but old scars tend to hurt in moments of nostalgia, and so when he showed you his sapphire eye, it means he takes your courtship seriously and hopes that you think the same.

Jacaerys Velaryon is the epitome of a gentleman.

His mother raised him well as he treated you as though you were the most precious person in his life, which you very much were.

He’d gladly wake up at weird times of night if you were ever in need of anything and he could do something about it, such as sneaking towards the kitchen on Dragonstone for lemon cakes or something to drink.

Anything your heart wanted, Jace would get it for you tenfold, no matter how far he’d have to go to get it. If it was for you then Jace would gladly fly to the far reaches of Westeros to get it.

Flights on Vermax were a common thing between you and Jace so much that Vermax was well acquainted with you and grew to love you, much to Jace’s relief. He loved it whether you held onto him as tightly as possible, even after he reassured you that no harm could come to you on Vermax, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of you pressed up close against his back.

He’s quick to take up arms if anyone were to ever speak a threat towards you. No hesitation, he will fight on your behalf because he wouldn’t dare let anyone get away with saying such foul words against you.

‘Their words should mean little to you,’ he’d tell you as he holds your face in his hands, making sure that you were looking him directly in the eyes. ‘ for you are far more then what they say and I will not have you echo their words either, an insult on you might as well be an insult to me too.’ He then presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘I will not allow others to tear you down as you deserved to be lifted up.’

Jace is a man of his word and he’s never go back on it ever. He was loyal and honourable man who’d eyes never left yours as he awakes in the morning, ready to think of new ways to spoil you absolutely rotten.

Cregan Stark is another man who’d treat you far better than most in the realm.

He would most likely get you a Direwolf pup when he came across one mourning its dead mother, finding the star shape mark on its forehead interesting, before gently scooping it up and taking it home with him to bring to you.

You named the Direwolf Astarion.

Cregan would make sure you’d have the best equality furs possible to keep out the cold weather of Winterfell whether for your shared chamber or to wear outside the castle. He knew that the cold wasn’t for everybody and would much rather you be comfortable during your stay at what would possibly be your future home should your courting go well.

Cregan would probably gift you flowers that had adapted to surviving in the cold winter whenever he was out hunting.

‘For the most beautiful soul in the realm.’ He’d say as he handed them over to you, smiling as you took them in with a smile of your own. He’s truly a sap with you and you wouldn’t want it any other way as having a man as notoriously stoic and duty driven, but yet be so soft and carful of you was enough to get you weak on the knees.

He’s devoted to you and you alone and it showed in the softer moments you shared where he looked at you as though you were the muse for the most beautiful artwork in Westeros today. He could be quite clingy also but you weren’t complaining when you had a man as pretty as him keeping you against his chest, reminding you that his heart beats for you as he lists off many reasons he desires you.

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winterarmyy · 1 year

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And You're Mine

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega

Summary: In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Words: 4.7k++

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, self-deprication, body shaming, tiny bit of angst, fluffiness, bucky has a size kink (if you squint), horny-ass bucky has lots of dirty thoughts, vivian being a digusting bitch, protective y/n, even more protective bucky and overall wholesome.

P/S: Ahhhhhhhhh!!! My first omega-verse fic; i have no clue what I'm doing. This is mostly self-indulgent but if you come across this and somehow interested to read it then I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Bucky momentarily shuts his eyes, slightly titled his chin upwards, as if that'll help the boiling blood within his nerves to cool down.

Steve had expected that his best friend would be a little bit annoyed with his decision to trick him into agreeing to this suprise date but he didn't expect him to get this pissed, "Come on now, Buck. I promise you're gonna love this one."

"You said the same shit everytime!" Bucky almost roared in the middle of the crowded carnival, but he held back with a muted growl.

Ever since he lost his left arm on a rescue mission during his time in the Special Forces Unit, the society had deemed him to be "lesser than" despite the alpha title he was born into.

You would've thought that serving your country for about 6 years of your early 20's would be enough of a reason to make up for the so called "lacking", but no.

Apparently, his heroic contributions, his Sargent rank, and his literal blood, sweat and tears meant nothing when he returned home as an amputee.

Even if he came back with the medal of honor, pinned on the fabric of his uniform, right on his prideful chest; they didn't care. A defected alpha is as good as dead, especially in this modern, competitive society where its a lot more difficult to find a mate.

At first Bucky was optimistic, he didn't let them get to him.

He believed that his mate is out there somewhere, waiting for him, as he is for her.

After Stark Technologies offered him to join their research for under the Prosthetics and Orthotics Division, Bucky was lucky to fully revived his left arm in a form a vibranium prosthetic.

Even then, as time passed, the venomous whispers eventually managed to seep through; like any other poison, it is lethal to his mind.

And Bucky stopped trying to be an alpha. His pride was maimed and he let himself wallow in self hatred; letting his insecurity consume him. Eventually quite literally ate his pain away.

They said that he was rubbing salt to his own wound as now he was not just an amputated alpha, he is also a fat one at that.

With his alpha reputation being at its worst, his chances of finding a mate also went down hill.

"This one's gonna be different. Trust me." Steve claimed.

Bucky doesn't know why Steve seemed really convinced. But he wasn't having any of that, he rolled his eyes into a glare, "And how's that?"

Steve's blue eyes sparked as optimism lit on his face, "Well, first of all, she's one of Peggy's closest friends and.."

"Oh great, now you involve your omega into this." Bucky let out an unfiltered scoff before sarcastically exclaimed, "Just fantastic."

Steve growled at the mention of his mate, "Watch it, Bucky." He warned.

Bucky's drilling glare remained the same as Steve's alpha challenged his.

It's not that Bucky is against the idea of Peggy or any other omega helping him in any way. But, Steve had been annoyingly persistent with these set ups and he was sick of it. Perhaps he was a bit petty bringing Peggy into the conversation but he really was just tired of this.

Steve's scowl gradually soften before he continued his reasons, "...And, your date is actually the one requesting for a set up with you."

And that definitely caught Bucky's attention. Steve could see it, especially when Bucky's ears perked up a little and his ever-lasting frown loosen at the tiniest amount.

Steve smirked triumphantly, "Specifically you."

For moment, there was a hesitation on Bucky's side; and there were only the chaotic atmosphere around them. From the screaming of the riders on the roller coater to the giggles of children at the nearby courasell.

Steve really thought he managed to lure Bucky but he was caught by surprise when Bucky replied, "You'd think I'd fall for that crappy excuse of a lie? No. I'm leaving." Bucky turned on his heels.

"I'm not lying." Steve stopped him as he held on his arm, "Hey, you're gonna break her heart."

"Break her heart? How about mine? Just how many more heart breaks do I have to endure? How much more disappointment do I have to go through?"

Bucky gathered his palms into fists as he recalled all the mean, insulting words his past lovers had thrown at him and all those time he wasted on waiting for his dates to show up.

Just before Bucky planning to lash out, a voice interupted his thoughts "Hey, sorry for being late." Peggy came just in time.

Though it was just her; no sign of his so called date around.

An unexpected sting spreads within Bucky's chest. Of course she would stood him up too. Why was he surprised?

Steve pulled his omega into a tight hug, "Hey, baby. Where's y/n?" He asked.

"She's went to the bathroom." Peggy replied before taking a peep towards Bucky, "She got really nervous when she saw you. She might take some time to calm down. She thought its better if you know." Peggy explained.

On one side, Bucky can feel that sliver of hope creeping in. He look down to where he was supposed to see his feet, but unable to see them as now they're blocked by the round of his soft tummy. That's when the dark thoughts clouded his mind.

Was she just feeling nervous or was she regretting her decision?

After a short back and forth explanation, Peggy swept Steve away and had left Bucky on his own. She claimed that the line to the haunted house will double if they wait any longer. But, Bucky knew that they just wanted to leave him and his date alone.

Like every other date before, Bucky was emotions was all over the place; nervous, scared, intrigued, excited but what's different tonight was he also felt angry and annoyed. Which was not a good thing to feel on a date.

So he went to a Whac-A-Mole machine near the spot where he was supposed to wait for his date. He had to hit something. He just had to. He need to let his anger out one way or another.

His gloved hand gripped tightly on the wooden handle as he waited for the next round. Smack after smack, next was harsher than before, he did felt better. But even if the fire was out, the ashes were still burning.

As he was fixated on whacking the shit out of the moles, a particular scent invaded his nostrils. A sweet-smelling scent; something between a mix of cotton candy and butterscotch-caramel nuances.

It should be normal to smell this at a place such as a carnival; but the food stalls were all the way on the other end of the venue and this scent was too strong, too potent, to be that far away from him.

Bucky just had to stop as he relished the pleasant smell; it was truly a sweet and warm gourmand scent that ushered him in and out between nostalgic memories and pure raging lust.

That was when he heard a voice coming from his back, "You must've been really bored waiting that you started without me." She sounded amused when she let out a quiet laugh.

Even before Bucky had the chance to turn around he knew he was fucked; she just had to have the most captivating scent he had ever smell, and the most beautiful-sounded laughter he had ever heard.

What a foul torment to do to an alpha.

When Bucky turned around, he would've missed her if he wasn't paying enough attention on the lower area of his view.

And there she stood, in all her glory of ethereal beauty; small and sweet-looking in an off-shoulder sundress that does nothing but tempt Bucky to leave his mark all over her exposed skin. A simple necklace adorned with a gleaming stone that shines much like her eyes. A shy smile that may have just triggered some dark thoughts in Bucky's mind on corrupting the poor little thing.

"James, right? I'm y/n." she introduced herself but when Bucky's gaze fell on her rosy lips, all he could think was how bad he wanted to bite and suck on them just see if it'll get redder than they already were.

He was too focused entertaining on his inner beast's thoughts that he just stood there in silence, frowning intensely at the sweet little omega in front of him.

Y/N took his unresponsiveness as a sign of anger, so quickly apologised for her tardiness, "Sorry for making you wait so long. When we..i mean I. When I saw you, the nerves started kicking in." At least she tried to, despite stuttering in the between her words.

Fuck, she's such a pretty doll but above all, Bucky just wanted to protect her from the world, provide for her with anything she deserves, treat her like an absolute queen, worship every inch of her being like his own personal goddess and jesus fuck these urges came in stronger than he ever experienced.

With the lights coming from behind, Bucky's face was in the shadows and Y/N misterinterpret his spell-bound, diluted eyes to something else.

Y/N's brows creased in hesitation as she wonders if Bucky was still mad, "Uhh... oh shit" then her eyes widen in a false realization, "Is the something on my face?" She frantically searched for her phone in her bag.

And fuck does that big doe eyes of hers just casually seduce Bucky to think of how she would look when she's taking his cock in her mouth. She'd be so fucking pretty.

She knew she should've used her phone's camera to re-apply her lipstick instead of the cracked mirror at the carnival's bathroom, "The mirror here is f--"

Yes, Bucky would want to breed her so good that she would always be full with his pups.

She's undeniably... "Perfect." Bucky finally spoke after what seemingly feels like forever.

His voice was laced with a hint of territorial grunt that Y/N was not able to catch what he said, "Hmm?" She titled her head to the side, eyes pleading for him to repeat.

It took Bucky all of his mental strength to hold back his alpha urges when he repeats, "You're perfect, doll. Just absolutely perfect." A cheshire smile decorated his handsome face.

Did he meant to say she look perfect? Well, yes but no. He clearly meant she was perfect, her whole being. But Y/N took it as the prior, "Thank you." She smiled sweetly as her cheeks warmed.

Bucky definitely noticed the slight indent of her left dimple. And he wondered how would it felt against his fingers. "Adorable." He thought as his smile grew wider.

Y/N had been waiting for this moment, to finally had a chance to have this man even for a day, especially considering she had the biggest crush on this stranger that helped her a year ago.

One time she might just had met her potential mate was that one time she had to be dosed with shit tons of scent blockers. And that might just be reason why Bucky may not remember her but that's fine. She had one more chance with him tonight.

After that encounter, his scent, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind longer than she anticipated. At least until the moment Peggy showed a photo her alpha that had Bucky in it.

She grew hopeful and had been pestering her to set up somehow set up date with him.

When the time finally comes, she couldn't help but to fell into panic, "Did I introduce myself? I'm y/n" she completely forgot that she already did that.

Bucky let out the most adorable laugh before he reminded her, "You very well did, sugar." His hand move so naturally to tuck the strand of her hair behind her ear as she fell into utter embrassement.

"I'm Bucky." He finally introduced himself.

"Bucky?" Y/N outwardly questioned. She thought his name was James, as Peggy said it was.

He hummed softly as he nodded, "The name's James Bucky Barnes." He explained. "Just call me Bucky, yeah sugar?" He duck his head to peek on her redden face, "...cause I can't guarantee my behaviour around you if you keep calling me James." He quirked his eyebrow as his teasing grin spreads.

Oh, he was definitely and unashamedly insinuated something quite unholy there.

Bucky straighten on his back as he offered his arms, "Shall we, then? I would love to know more about you, sweet 'mega."

No matter how infatuated Bucky was with this lovely little omega clinging to his arm; a part of him was also on a defensive mode.

His insecurities gets the best of him when he believe that all of this was just an act, a cruel prank that fate has set up for him or maybe he was just having a ridiculous dream, knowing how pitiful his reality was.

Despite his gentle smile and longing gaze that's lingering on Y/N who was having the best time of her life as her bright eyes sparked at the vibrant and colorful firework show, deep down, he couldn't help to think that sooner or later, all of this will end like it always does.

Another heart break he needed to endure.

But, she was truly an angel. She was everything he could ever hoped for, everything that he could ever long for.

He can't belive that she would spend even a second of her time with a defected, fat, angry looking alpha such as himself.

Maybe this won't be just another heart break.

Maybe this would be the cause for him to actually break beyond repairable.

And she would be the catalyst.

"Thank you for today, Bucky. I truly enjoy my time with you." She confessed with a sincere appreciation and admiration towards him. She shyly broke their eye contact as her finger fiddled with soft fur of the teddy bear that Bucky won for her.

It reminds her of him so much that she insisted that he need to win it for her.

So he did.

His alpha couldn't help to puff with pride. "Omega's happy because of us." But his lips remain shut with a loving smile curved on it.

The dimple on her cheek appeared again and this time he didn't stop his hand from reaching out. Though they were gloved, he still let himself feeling the pleasure of grazing his fingers along her cheek, through her dimple and stopped underneath her chin.

Bucky pulled her closer as he dipped down to her level. Warmth sparked in Y/N's chest, as if the fireworks show magically transferred within her instead, "Buck--"

"Bucky?" A women's voice interupted their moment. "Bucky is that you?" She called again and her familiarity had caught both Y/N and Bucky's attention.

"Oh my god! It is you!" her ecstatic tone might have fool Y/N for a second there.

Maybe she's a close friend of Bucky, but when she saw the colors from his face drained quite drastically, she might need to hold on to that thought.

"Vivian." Bucky's tone changed into something Y/N couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow? Anger? Regret? She wasn't sure but it was not a positive response.

The claimed omega sauntered closer and peered towards Y/N with a glint of judgment in her eyes, "And I see you managed to trick another one, huh?"

That triggered a scarring spot within Bucky.

He could still remember the way she accused him of luring and tricking omega to be with him. Apparently, she couldn't stand being him during intimate time especially during his ruts.

And one particular moment when his rut was at its peak and she couldn't stop herself to turn into an unforgiving monster.

"I can't believe I fell for your charms. Then now I need to deal with this." Vivian looked away, unable to look at her boyfriend, hot and bothered, bare and in pain.

Bucky pants and groan as Vivian continued to insult him from the corner of him room, "Look at you, Bucky! You look fucking pathetic!" She yelled as she angrily pointed her hands towards him.

He turn to his side facing her, and curled his body to manage the raging pain of wanting to stick his cock into something. Vivian was to busy ranting that she couldn't see the fire in Bucky's grilling frown.

"You can't expect me to touch you now especially with your big fucking belly spilling out like that. God, you're sweating like damn dog and you fucking reek!" Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust before she continued, "And don't get me started with that wretched arm of yours."

That's it. Bucky was not having any of it anymore. He was seconds away from slamming Vivian's face to the wall as his primal alpha needs to aggress were also heighten in his rut.

"Then, get the fuck out of my house, you useless annoying bitch." Bucky growled through his pain.

Vivian was not able to catch a breath as her mouth hang open in shock. Bucky never been that harsh with her but honestly it was about time he did.

"Don't even think of coming back." He warned as she closed the doors behind her.

Unknowingly leaving Bucky's heart bruised and battered.

That was almost a year ago. Bucky gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought maybe she would change once she find her the love life but apparently she is as vicious as ever.

The tall blonde continue to linger as she asked, "Did you know? About that arm of his?"

Y/N didn't know what she was talking about but she didn't want to entertain this woman, especially when Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with her presence.

Though her silence only lead Vivian to speculate, "Aww, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" Her mockery was getting worst, "It's fake, honey. He lost his arm many years ago." She flicked Bucky's left arm with long bird-like nails; or claws, that seemed more accurate.

Bucky caught the way Y/N's eyes briefly glanced at his covered arms then his gloved hand. What was she thinking then? Does she think that he was defected? That he is a damaged goods?

He couldn't help to let his mind wonder to the worst case scenarios and to make the unpleasant situation even worse Vivian slightly tugged Bucky's jacket to the side.

Revealing his round and plushy belly, "And fuck did you get bigger?" She sneered as the ruthless insult continue to spill.

"Shut up." Y/N's broken silence caught them off guard.

Vivian scoffed, "What?"

Y/N piercing gaze landed on Vivian's hand still tugging Bucky's jacket. She harshly grabbed her on the wrist, didn't care whether if her nails would dug into the woman's skin.

"I said..." The air felt heavier, only for Y/N to shove more force to it when her voice dropped a few octaves down, "Shut the fuck up before I tear your throat apart."

How dare she insult her alpha, especially when Y/N was right there with him.

"Are sure you want to do that?" Vivian's alpha suddenly stepped in. Even though he clearly was not interested in the matter a few seconds ago.

Y/N took a step forward, "Try me." She dared him.

"I might as well fuck your balls up while I'm at that, huh? Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about subduing your insolent omega."

Oh, she meant what she said; its especially clear when the growling started to peak a presence through her voice.

The taller was bright red, with embrassment and anger, "You're talking to an alpha. Know your place 'mega!" He forced his alpha command on her.

She fought back as much as she could but of course she was forced to submit. When the alpha tried to reach for her, that's when Bucky blocked his way.

Bucky's demeanour completely changed into something different. His meek presence vanished and now turned into a pure and primal rage. Good thing was he contained it quite well so he won't cause a scene but his gaze degrades the one before him.

Though the alpha was slightly taller but Bucky was certainly bigger and being a veteran, of course he'd be stronger. One wrong move, he might get a chance to meet the grim reaper sooner than he'd expect.

It felt as if Bucky was towering over the alpha, as he challenged him to come a step further, "Touch her and you're dead." Bucky let out a deep, murderous growl as he threatened.

The alpha was about to protest but was forced into a frozen state as he look into Bucky's sapphire eyes; there was something ominous about it, something dark and dangerous.

Being overwhelmed by Bucky's strong scent of rage, Vivian quickly pulled her alpha away, "Let's just go... They're not worth it." She coaxed, and the alpha agreed.

Before they leave, she managed to slip a last comment, as she wishes luck to Bucky, "Goodluck keeping this one." She thought she was being sleek when she whispered so quietly but Y/N heard that just fine.

When Y/N snapped out of the alpha command, she grunted, "I'm gonna kill her." What a menancing look in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

Bucky only softened to her threatening aggressions, "No, you're not " he rubbed his hand to the sides of her arms, trying to calm her down.

Which failed miserably when she replied, "Watch me." She spun around, eyes searching in the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the rude couple.

"Hey hey, omega." Bucky quickly catch her before she could walk further, pulling her back to his chest, both of his arms securing her waist, "Calm down. Shhh shhh." Bucky let out a calming rumble from within his chest, coaxing her softly, "Killing is not necessary, sugar."

Despite her tensed body were starting to relax, her mind certainly wasn't, "And why the hell not?" Her small hands gripped onto the fabric of Bucky's jacket on his arms.

"No one deserved to be treated like that." She whispered softly as Bucky continued to kiss the top of her head, mumbling quiet 'I know, doll. I know'

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, Bucky." Her voice shivered despite her efforts to conceal them.

Bucky loosen his grip and turned her to face him. His loving gaze took in every single one of Y/N's sweet features; from her teary eyes to her redden nose and pouty lips.

He wanted to kiss each of them, in hopes of making her feel better. But he doesn't want to take any chances as he had already made a bold move to hug her from behind and kiss her head prior.

Bucky looked down at his dark midnight glove, and Y/N took his lead. Before she could say anything, Bucky started pulling each one off. Revealing his calloused right hand and a shiny black and gold prosthetic on the other.

He can't see her reaction to his vibranium arm, but he imagined the worst. He took in a shaky breath before he spoke, "Alpha is supposed to be perfect. They supposed to be capable. So that they can provide and protect their omega."

He paused as Y/N wrapped took both of his hand in hers but then continued regardless, "And I am far from being perfect or ideal. I lost a limb and gained pounds in return. I can't hide that fact."

"But I swear to god y/n, I never intent on tricking you or using you, in any way." In the end, Vivian's gaslighting effect of Bucky was still stronger as ever.

Why couldn't he see that there was nothing less about him.

"It's pretty." Y/N titled his left hand back and forth, watching the glow on the gold lines reflect the lights of the carnival; each move create random sparkling dots on its smooth surface, it looks like stars.

Bucky didn't understand at first until she looked up at him, with eyes gleaming with mixture of intrigued and infatuation, "It's so pretty, and Bucky..." She reached her hand to his face, gently rubbing her thumb on his stubble jaw, "You're beautiful. All of you." She confessed.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his cheek, and grabbed his left hand with both of hers, allowing it draw near to her lips before she placed a loving kiss on it, "This arm," Then her hands caressed the softness of his tummy, "this body," before they stopped at his chest where his beating heart resides, "this heart. Every single part of you is beyond beauty itself."

Bucky frowned as he find it hard to believe and Y/N knew that, "I mean it, Bucky."

A short chuckle left her lips as a thought run through her mind, "God, you'd be running scared, if you know half of the things I would love to do to you."

Bucky bit back a smile as he let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Y/N continued as she held onto his hands, "But, above all Bucky, you are the sweetest man I've met." There was nothing more sincere than her words, "Yeah I know we just met and what not, but if I can see that just in one night, imagine if I get to know more of you tomorrow or the next day and next week?"

Her grip on him grew stronger as she reminded him, "Don't let an impudent omega or anyone even, convice you otherwise."

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

And Bucky could not control the overwhelming joy within his thundering chest as it bursts with endless fluttering butterflies. He had never felt such comfort, such reassurance in his life, especially after returning home from the army.

Flickers igniting as he leaned in closer and closer until their lips touched, tentively for the first time. The smell of her cotton candy and caramel, so sweet and so soft, it was almost dizzying, but he was more than thrilled to let it consume him.

Y/N briefly parted her lips to let him in and leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the delicious sensation of his lips, his tongue on hers. Bucky wanted nothing more than devour her, memorizing of every single moan that fell into his mouth.

It felt so right; it was exactly was his soul had been yearning for and more.

Breaking the kiss was the reminder to both of them they need air to breath, and Bucky rested his forehead on hers as he took in everything that just happened.

While Y/N found herself completely drunk to the feeling of love within her body and soul, she whispered dearly as she scatters most tender kisses all over Bucky's face, "You're so pretty. So perfect. So... mine."

And that caught Bucky in another spiral of confusion; she could see it in face especially with his sapphire eyes being as wide as they were.

She giggled amusingly before she proposed, "Will you be mine, James Bucky Barnes?"

God, he was supposed to be the alpha here. But what can he say, his omega is quite a special one.

He breathed a relief sigh, "Yes." Leaned in for a quick taste of her lips before asking his a question of his own, "And you're mine?"

Her nose crunched as she booped its tip on his, "Always." She replied. Bucky could feel her smile against his lips and so does she.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, a few feet away from them was Peggy who was busy clicking her camera away, trying to get the best shot she could out of the couple while Steve was trying hard to hold back his proud sniffles as he stood guard near his omega.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Sooooooo what you think? Feel free to give feedback I love reading your thoughts!

#winterarmyyfics #and you're mine au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #chubby!bucky #grumpy!bucky #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!bucky x reader #bucky fluff

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kajibunny · 1 month

Text

⋆🌷🫧⋆｡° intrusive thoughts 💭₊˚ෆ (hayato suo x reader)

collab piece for amor's event, ORQUÍDEAS

PENSAMIENTOS INTRUSIVOS - yesterday, today, tomorrow; unwanted thoughts oftentimes linger through your mind. after rough experiences with love, he's more than ready to show you how much he loves you to make those intrusive thoughts fly away.

✿ contains: very suggestive content (towards the end), mentions of previous toxic relationships, slight angst (with comfort), f!reader, suo being a hopeless romantic (fluff) ✿ a/n: first time joining an event (so honored to join, thank you amor!) and writing a full piece dedicated for suo ♡ for my suo girlies out there, ya'll are among the sweetest and nicest people! you deserve suo's unconditional love~ ✿ wc: 1.1k

yesterday ── ✧

you've never known a guy as mature as suo. in fact, all you've ever known are rowdy immature guys who have no plans, no vision for the future, and no idea how to treat a woman right.

however, suo is a pure contrast to all of them. at first glance, one would say he's an absolute gentleman. disciplined, extremely intelligent, perceptive, and not to mention handsome. truly the perfect package.

the only catch? he is too good to be true. suo is the most mysterious and enigmatic person you've ever met. it also didn't help that he has a reputation for being a tease and a bit of a liar.

it's true that he has lied quite a lot, but never about his feelings for you.

suo professed his love for you months ago, and had started courting you for quite some time now. he knew you wanted him as well, even though you refused to give in to him out of your own personal trust issues with men in the past, which made it difficult for you to believe him.

you didn't believe suo when he told you he could treat you right, like the empress that you are.

you didn't believe suo when he said he'd give you the world, make you feel special like you deserve.

you didn't believe suo when he said that things would be different with him. he says that he would love you with his whole heart, and take you up the staircase to adulthood, whatever that meant.

"prove it to me." you challenged, with no expectations in your thoughts, as flowery words only meant so little to you.

his reply was steady, full of confidence.

"of course, darling. for you, i'll do whatever it takes."

he calls you his 'darling' like he means it, and looks at you like you were the most precious rare jewel in the world.

suo’s words were promising, but you knew better than to fall for mere promises. you had been let down one too many times before. if he wanted your trust, he would have to earn it.

actions spoke louder than words, so he would have to find a way to convince you. you've been through so much heartbreak and toxicity that you just found yourself so hesitant to let anyone else in.

today ── ✧

they definitely didn't call suo a "master of negotiation" for nothing.

he showed up to your home with a large bouquet of flowers, a mix of reds and purples, which perfectly complemented his burgundy toned hair.

"what's this for?" you ask, perplexed at him suddenly gifting you with such an eloquent set of flowers. they seemed like they cost a fortune too. the bouquet was wrapped in embossed paper and high quality silk ribbons, because suo wanted only the best for you.

"these orchids are a symbol of your elegance and beauty, these roses are a symbol of my passion and desire for you, and the heliotropes represent my everlasting devotion." suo explains, handing the flowers over to you.

he is obviously well-versed in flower language. could this man be any more perfect?

a mixture of wonder and disbelief were reflected in your eyes. "for me?" you admire each beautiful fresh flower, softly running your fingertips through the petals.

none of your past lovers had ever gotten you flowers before, and one of them even once forgot your birthday. so this was something totally new to you.

"you told me to convince you, so here i am, trying to convince you." he smiled, his charming, captivating, signature suo smile.

you blush at his gesture. "thank you suo, you really didn't have to, but that's very thoughtful of you."

"do i get a kiss as a token of gratitude?" suo asks, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leans in slightly.

you roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "don’t push it, hayato." you reply.

suo’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback not only by the way you casually used his first name but also by the unexpected moment when you tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

maybe suo really is a better negotiator than you thought. well, he certainly had his way of convincing you, that's for sure.

tomorrow ── ✧

you weren't certain when you started to notice it, but the pain of heartache that had once felt so overwhelming now seemed like a fading shadow. gradually replaced by a quiet sense of peace, as if your heart was finally learning to heal and make room for something new, something better.

something like hayato suo.

both of you were definitely ready to take the next step, imagining a future together. (maybe this was what he meant by the 'staircase to adulthood' that he kept talking about so much.)

he cherished you dearly, his kisses always so soft and gentle. he held you with tender fingers, like you were fine china. night after night, he lapped at you hungrily, like you were the sweetest tea he'd ever drank. in suo's bed the both of you lay, him basking in your beautiful afterglow.

"you're so cute." he said, stroking your hair. "but you know what would make you even cuter? if i kiss you right now."

"is kissing all you ever think about, hayato?" you sigh.

suo shrugs. "ever since i fell in love with you, yes, i believe it's all i ever think about."

"how did you end up falling for me, hm?" you nuzzle against his chest, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

"i'm not sure, either. maybe you put some type of love potion in my tea?" he replies to you, his hand reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

"stop, i did not, that seems more like something you would do, hayato!" you giggle, playfully giving him a light shove on the shoulder.

he chuckles in response and leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "the ancient spirit in my eye says we should kiss now."

curious, you tilted your head and ask, "did it now? tell me, what's really under your eyepatch, anyway?"

"darling, you already saw what's under my clothes and now you want to see what's under my eyepatch, too?" his gaze locks in with yours, a teasing glint present in suo's eye.

before you could respond, he presses his lips against yours. afterwards, suo proceeded to place a kiss on your ring finger that is adorned with an antique promise ring. a matching set to his antique earrings, which he slid around your finger the moment you told him you were ready to accept his affections.

you have suo totally and irrevocably wrapped around your finger, literally and figuratively. he has always promised himself to you since yesterday, today, tomorrow, and always.

#wind breaker #suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo hayato #wind breaker x reader #suo #hayato suo #suo fic #suo hayato scenario #wind breaker (satoru nii)#windbreaker #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker fic #wind breaker comfort #wind breaker angst #wind breaker x you #suo x you #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker imagines

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Maybe Johnny ends up in the hospital.

Maybe he ends up with a spine fracture, broken arm, shattered pelvis, deep tissue burns all over his stomach and chest. Maybe he hemorrhaged, has internal organ damage. It’s bad, bad enough that he needs multiple, complicated surgeries. Bad enough that it’s a struggle to stabilize him, and keep him conscious. Simon is there the entire time, doesn’t leave his side, sleeps sitting straight up in the uncomfortable chair that he’s dragged next to Johnny’s bed. He’s Johnny’s next of kin, and advocates for Johnny when he’s not able to do it himself. It’s grueling, every second feels like a lifetime. Johnny’s in so much pain every time he comes to, and Simon can’t do anything to help him, to take away his pain or make him feel better. All he can do is sit by his bedside and hold his hand. Anytime he’s handled by doctors or aides, nurses or respiratory therapists, Simon watches their every move, ready to shove them away the second he see’s Johnny face crumple in agony. Ready to swoop down and remove them the moment he feels like something’s not right. Hospitals make his skin crawl, make him feel like a big bug under a microscope and he hates it. He doesn’t trust this place, doesn’t trust anyone in here to take care of Johnny.

But then there’s you. You, the ICU nurse that works the floor four nights a week on graves. You, who he notices, checks on Johnny (and Simon) more than the other nurses do. Who takes the time to make sure the lights in the room aren’t too bright, or that Johnny’s blankets are not tucked in too tight across his stomach. You always knock on the sliding glass before coming in, and you’re always smiling at him, and Johnny, even though he’s hardly ever awake to see it. It’s not a forced smile either, it’s something soft. Something precious, something kind. You don’t look away from Simon, even when he scowls at you from above the mask when you wake Johnny in the middle of the night, for some reason or another.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You soothe him, gentle hand on his good forearm before you swab his arm for a blood draw. Simon’s muscles inadvertently tense, because he can’t help, because he hates sitting here, completely helpless, watching Johnny grimace in pain.

“‘s alright, bonnie. Not yer fault.” He assures, eyebrows knitted together, jaw gnashed tight.

“Just need to get some blood, okay?” You intentionally look at Simon, like you’re waiting for his go ahead before you start, and he nods his approval before you push the needle through his partner’s skin. “And then maybe we’ll get you some more pain meds, I’ll make a note for the next shift to let you sleep unless it’s dire.” Simon nods again, gratefully. Maybe Johnny will be able to get some uninterrupted rest this morning. You give Johnny one of your sweet smiles, and then directs it to Simon too. It makes his mouth go dry a little bit, and he’s too entranced by the eye contact, the curve of your lips, to notice Johnny’s eyes flicking back and forth between him, and you.

So maybe he doesn’t mind when its you, in particular. Maybe it’s not so bad, when you slip inside the room with an extra smoothie for Johnny, or when you flick the lights off when you think they’re both sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t mind that when he comes back from the cafeteria, you’re sitting in a different chair, reading from your kindle because Johnny had asked you stay a while between versed doses. He’s enchanted by the way you care for Johnny, the tenderness you show him, the way you’re gentle and sweet with him, to him, the way you take the time explain everything that’s happening with Johnny’s medical care to both of them, patiently answering the questions, even the ones Simon worries are dimwitted. Simon tells himself that it’s your job, you’re just doing your job, but he can’t help but perk up a little bit whenever you linger, or try to engage him in small talk. You ask him about their lives (busy) their job (classified) and how they fell in love (“it’s a long story-“ “it’s really not, LT.”)

He also notices little things about you too. Some nights when you come in, you seem happy, bubbly. Refreshed. And others, you’re dragging a bit, posture slumped, circles under your eyes. He sees the way your scrubs are usually a little wrinkled, the day you wore two mismatching socks, the small little bruise, impacted skin, on the inside of your arm… and it makes him wonder. You take such good care of Johnny, of himself… but is anyone taking care of you?

Simple Math masterlist

#ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #johnny soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghoap

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mangomingus · 27 days

Text

ATEEZ as Boyfriends (Fluffly HC ♡)

WC: 2.6k~

Warnings: slightly suggestive, brief language

SEONGHWA

•Seonghwa is so wife material •He's always worrying over you in the best ways •"Did you eat?" "Are you tired?" "Do you need anything?" •He just loves to take care of you, and h feel such a purpose to do so •He's always supportive in anything you do and he's ready to be there •Hard day? Not anymore •Seonghwa's there to break his back to treat you like a princess •He loves spoiling you and is so selfless in the relationship •But he loves when you take the time to do things for him too •If you cook for him, or even just help him with a small task he's on the verge of tears (not literally) •He's the kinda guy who hates to see you try to do anything •He'll tie your shoes, or literally carry you downstairs •He's obsessed with couple things •He won't even ne discreet about it •He'll brag about purposely getting the same color shirt or the same ice cream order •His habit with you and randomly kissing your cheek •Either one of you could be mid conversation and he'd just turn and plant one on you •His pet peeve would be you denying him of doing stuff for you or when you degrade yourself •He hates when you say "Oh you didn't have to" because in his mind, he has to, in order to prove his love •He loves you too much to hear anything bad about you •He thinks your a perfect angel and isn't afraid to tell you so •His love language is acts of service, duh •But he likes when you compliment him •He likes hearing you call him pretty or sweet •It's like a reward •Loves acting cute to you •He will suddenly baby talk you

HONGJOONG

•Hongjoong isn't big on physical affection, but with you and only you does he make exceptions •He'll hold your hand or let you hug his waist •"Whatever you want~" •Hongjoong is a bit of a jealous type •If you ever so much as compliment some other guy too much, he'll take it as a insult •If you're close to one of the guys, he'll tell them something to do and then pull you close to him •Hongjoong is a bit forgetful because of everything he has to remember for ATEEZ, so he'll forget anniversaries or birthdays •But he always finds ways to make you forget why you were mad in the first place •He's not big on PDA •But if you are, he'll let you touch him •He loves your affection and touch more than he'd care to admit •He talks about work a lot to you •Whether he's rapping a verse to you to hear your opinion, or complaining about one of the others •He's a good listener too •He'll lay on his belly over your lap while you rant, letting you use his hair as a stress relief •He loves spending time with you •Everytimehe can, he'd blow his plans and come over to your house even at 2 am •Yall get ramen and snacks from a convenience store and just talk •For hours •He hates horror movies, but he'll watch them with you •He likes to invite you to the studio, claiming it'll help him focus •But always ends up too distracted with less work done •His love language is definitely quality time •If it wasn't obvious •Anytime of day, he's ready to see you •He's always telling you that's your his favorite thing ever •He's just so sweet with you, oml •He has a habit of touching your hair, or just placing his hands on your head •FOREHEAD KISSESSSS •His pet peeve in the relationship is when you don't remind him of stuff •Like if he has forgotten something and you don't bother to remind him, it'll probably start an argument •He's always the first to apologize tho

YUNHO

•He's just hot •Yall would totally be an IT couple •The couple everyone wants to be, and is definitely jealous of •He's really mature so having a slightly immature girlfriend would be cute to him •Height difference is so precious to him as well •He loves to hug you from behind and put his chin on your head while you cook or even just talk to someone •He's really trusting so I don't see him getting extremely jealous, but he is somewhat possessive •Everyone knows what's his •He's definitely a thighs guy •His hand is always on your thigh, driving, sitting etc. •His habit in yalls relationship is just staring at you too much •But he can't help it, he's just so in love with you •Yunho is so sweet, and so supportive •He'll just constantly be there to cheer you on in whatever context •"You're so amazing, sweetie" "You'll get it, I know you will" etc. •He loves going on dates •He gets happy seeing you dressed up and attached to his arm as he buys really fancy dinner •He is definitely a gift giver, and but likes to receive physical touch •He loves to brush your hair •He enjoys the intimacy and loves th just brus his fingers "accidentally" against your neck •He's good at listening like Hongjoong •Literally loves when you rant or complain to him •He also gets a sene of purpose when you cry to him •Lives to be your emotional support •He loves you, and when he says it and you don't say it back, problem will start •That's definitely his biggest pet peeve with you •He's so loyal. •You wouldn't ever have to worry about him looking at someone else •Lover more of a fighter definitely •He hates fighting with you, it literally breaks his heart •Neck kisses and apologies after fights •He'll buy you ice cream and let you be mad in his arms if it's his fault •If its your fault, he's already forgotten about it

YEOSANG

•Cuddle monster •He loves the warmth of your two bodies. •I just see him clinging to you a lot, his arms around your waist or holding both of your hands •He's always giggling whenever you make a joke, even if it's not funny •Passenger princess •He hates when you reject his touch, and he'll be pouty all day about it •He likes to read the directions to were you're going instead of showing you the GPS •Babygirl just wants to be helpful •He likes to cook with you, even if you don't like to cook •He'll read the instructions and make you o the work •I think he just likes to read to you •He's always full of surprises •Like one day, he'll come up to you and say that he planned a picnic •His favorite activity with you is coloring •He likes to switch drawing every once and a while to see how you two would complete each other •Matching keychains and bracelets to declare you love •He thinks it's so adorable when you ear his hoodies or hats. •And he'll go on and on about it •Loves to get recommendations from you •Whether music, movies, food etc. •He'll lie to you if needed •You really like a dress but he doesn't? "Yeah, cute!" •He loves petnames, "Cutie, princess, love, baby" •His habit with you is instead of actual kisses, he'll just say "Mwah" really loudly •He's just so adorable •His love language is acts of service •He likes to carry you around, or read the instructions to you lmao •He also loves to tie your shoes like Seonghwa •He loves the way you smell naturally •He'll stay cuddled in your blankets forever •He would die there if he could •Carving your guys initials everywhere •Loves to watch the stars and clouds with you •His favorite pillow is your shoulder

SAN

•Such a hopeless romantic •He was too shy to make the first move, so you would have to ask him out •But since then, he's almost always the first to touch and kiss you •He's a complimentary dude •He loves calling you pretty and beautiful and his girl •You're literally made for him he feels like •He always has his hands on you •His hands resting on the back of your neck or shoulders •Sometimes he'll steer you around by your neck •He's always pouting and complaining to you •Dude is built like Toji, but expects you to beat Wooyoung up for calling him stupid •Loves giving you random massages •Reaching over to rub your neck or thigh •Especially when you're stressed. •Loves driving around at midnight with you •He likes to challenge you to arm wrestles and sometimes lets you win if you look extra cute or ask nicely enough •Anime girl noises •He loves answering your questions •He loves doing skincare with you too •Face mask, applying lotion, the whole thing •He doesn't like keeping secrets in between you two •Especially when it's something that's making you upset. •Hates overly sweet petnames "Cutie, sweetie, princess, cupcake" etc •Love language is quality time •He loves seeing you, and loves even just being near you •Never goes an 30 minutes without texting you if you guys can't talk directly •He likes working out together, because yall motivate each other •Cuddles after arguments •He wouldn't care if you hate him, he's spooning you no matter what •Would get matching tattoos •He would love you even more if his cat liked you tbh •He wouldn't care about you exes really, but he would care if you weren't serious about the relationship •He's an attention whore and needs to be the only one •He loves knowing that you support him though, and he cares and values your opinions alot •He has every date of your guys relationship written down (first kiss, anniversary, etc.) •Also has your favorite snacks on hand •Overall, very whipped for you.

MINGI

•You're honestly his everything. •He's constantly telling you that too •How he was able to function without you is the world's greatest mystery •He's such a clumsy, giant baby, and you always need to clean up his messes •He hated you at first, but you guys look each other in the eyes once and there was no going back •He's obsessed with the sound of your voice •It's his favorite thing •Would tell corny jokes to make you laugh •He would definitely write songs about you •His soft spot is you for sure •Suddenly, he's talking all soft and sweet to you and pouting and acting cute •He'd do anything for you, even aegyo •His love language is physical touch, his hands have to be on your skin at all times •He'll often rest his chin on your shoulder or pull you into his lap even if there are plenty of seats •He wouldn't use your name really after you guys started dating, unless he was mad. •Petnames like "baby, babe, pretty, mine" •But also playful teases "Idiot, smart-ass" •Jealous and possessive •Randomly bites you as his habit •He likes matching jewelry •He loves the size difference you guys would have •He loves comparing hands randomly •He would be attracted to a girl opposite to him too. •Someone to be able to take care of him •Gets you to teach him English •He's constantly telling you that he loves you, because he really does •His hand will usually rest on your lower back bordering your ass •Likes when you draw on him, and he'll even write his name on your arm "Mingi's" •Like San and Yunho, you're his. •He loves when you tell him that he's pretty or good-looking or just any compliment because he's so insecure •Loves when you run your fingers down his nose or touch his neck, it's comforting •Matching travel stuffed animals that smell like each other’s perfume •Likes to feed you off his plate •He's the kinda man who'll kiss you with your lip gloss on. •He gets really moody, so you'd have to deal with his mood swings a lot. •Either super mad, super sad, super hyper, or super horny. •Likes putting his hands under your shirt for warmth.

WOOYOUNG

•He's such a brat. •Teases you when you can't do something •Constant kisses and hugs and love tho •He's just a touchy guy, so his hands have to be holding some part of you, preferably your hand. •Loves playing rock paper scissors with you •Wooyoung would honestly be so open with you though •You guys are just super close on a really deep level •Loves stealing food off your plate like he doesn't have any •He would always be trying to climb on your back though, even if you can't carry him •Loves you because you encourage his bad behavior •Tons of tickle fights between you two that often escalate •He hates compliments but from you they sound so genuine. •His love language is physical touch, duh •He needs to be all over you or he'll be in a bad mood all day •Yall would have a lot of petty arguments •Like who didn't take out the trash or make the bed or buy toothpaste •He loves to cook for you and feed you a lot •"I don't care if you get bigger, you're cute anyways." •He has a hard time giving you space, but if it really comes down to it he will •You share everything •Straws, ice cream, clothes, germs lmao •His biggest habit for you is always peeling an orange or opening stuff for you •He'd let you paint his nails and do his makeup as long as he got to choose what it was •Jealous oppa vibes •Like he'd totally just confront the guy you're talking too "She's taken." •He has a habit of rubbing your tummy randomly •He's such the kinda guy to say "good girl" •Always there for you whe you need him •He hates whenever your sad, and he'll bat himself up over it for letting you get that way •Does his best to make you smile and laugh and just not worry •Will watch whatever you like even if he doesn't like it •He likes when you ask him to cook for you •"Of course I will!" •He wants to seem cool to you all the time

JONGHO

•He's definitely more private and conservative about your relationship •It's not like he won't hold your hand in public but he won't be overly showy about it •Such a sweetheart though •He's always asking your opinions and letting you talk about your interests •He loves to make you laugh, whether by a joke or tickling you •Will pull your ear gently if you say something stupid •Like Yunho, he likes to brush your hair or even just play with it. •Jongho will call you stupid then kiss you •You'll find him randomly staring at you but he'll quickly look away •He thinks you're the prettiest thing ever •Loves protecting you, you're so precious to him •He likes to break apples for you, because he loves how impressed you look. •Jongho's love language is acts of service. •He'll carry you over a puddle of water, or hold your purse or drink •He appreciates words of affirmation though. •He always finds his heart swelling when you compliment him. •He loves to have deep conversations with you and discuss the future of yall relationship because he knows you can handle it. •Sometimes he's just a big baby though. •He'll whine that he's hungry or beg for a kiss, but he's adorable so you just give in. •Like San, he only wants to be focused on and in return he'll give you his all attention •He would enjoy adopting a pet together •He finds it cute when you fall asleep on his shoulder, or steal his clothes •He just thinks your freaking adorable •He likes to have dates, but indoor ones •They feel more intimate and personal to him •He doesn't say "I love you" a lot, but you know he does and he tries to show you through time and affection •would like discreetly matching items

Hope yall enjoy this one, I got a little carried away with a few

~♡~

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #atz #yeosang #wooyoung #choi san #park seonghwa #song mingi #mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #hongjoong

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jsprnt · 7 months

Text

Americano PT. 1 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: part one is here, enjoy! <3

W/C: 3.398

Introduction

"Can you try smiling this time?"

I mumble, holding myself back from rolling my eyes in annoyance. I click my tongue, standing behind Luis, my close friend and cameraman.

"The photo needs to be edited later, for sure. Looks a little off compared to the others." I tell Luis, sending an insult to the man in front of the camera, in English for him to hear.

Even so, Luis and I usually spoke English to each other. It being a language we were both very well versed in.

Jude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, at all. He wouldn't be the only one, that was for sure.

"That's good enough, Bellingham. You can go." I say, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes, the Brummie accent, which was quite new to me, rolling off his tongue.

He raises his hands, smoothing down his shirt, before nodding at Luis with a smile and leaving, not acknowledging me per usual.

"Douchebag." I mumble, solely for myself to hear, but I notice Luis glancing at me.

"What?" I ask, rolling the papers in my hands into a tube out of boredom. The letters curving with the bend of the paper.

"You two are becoming more insufferable every day." He says, going to wipe his camera lens with a microfiber cloth. He treated his cameras like his actual children.

"Not my fault." I reply through clenched teeth, placing a hand on my hip.

"You spilled an entire americano on his brand new, white kit. On his first day here." He says, recalling the embarrassing and aggravating incident.

"It was just an accident!" I retort, unfolding the papers again. "We could have moved on from that after I apologized, but he's decided to be an asshole about it."

So, who was the insufferable one here?

He doesn't say anything else, an uninterested sigh leaving his lips as he distracts himself with the lens.

I saw Luis as the older brother I never had, but he wasn't even taking my side in the situation.

Traitor.

I huff, turning away and looking around the pitch for some entertainment I could turn into content.

My eyes catch the players of the club warming up a couple meters away.

Easy content, my favorite.

"Can I get a camera?" I nudge Luis, his eyes looking up at mine.

"Should I trust you with one?" He says, voice unsure.

"Yes, just give me the smaller one." I usher, holding my hand out in anticipation.

He sighs again, grabbing the requested camera out of his equipment bag.

"Two hands." He mutters.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the camera with the apparently very necessary, two hands.

"I'll take care of your child." I mock, smile tugging at my lips as I see him get annoyed.

"Chill, I've got it." I add, walking away from him.

I was being serious, of course.

Firstly, I wanted these shots to come out perfectly. Secondly, I didn't want to get killed by him for ruining his precious camera. I had enough enemies in this club already. Losing an ally wasn't on my bingo list this season.

I turn the camera on clumsily, pointing it at the training players as I'm standing behind the goal.

How the hell does a small camera weigh this much? It genuinely felt like a bag of rocks weighing down on my arms.

I try to ignore the heaviness of the camera, filming the individual shooting of the players. Moving the camera when necessary.

I stand there for a moment, before I hear Luis come up to me, finally taking the camera out of my hands.

"How the hell do you even hold these cameras? My arm almost went numb." I say, rubbing my tired arm as I look at him.

"I go to the gym, unlike you- and I'm used to it by now." He replies, focusing on filming.

The urge to say something petty back is interrupted as Camavinga suddenly yells at us, our heads snapping up.

« Tu filmes? » are you filming?

He shouts in French, standing in his position.

I used to whine and complain about having to take French back in school, but now I was genuinely grateful for it. It was very useful now, even though I had forgotten a great chunk of it.

"Want us to?" I shout back in English, ignoring the fact that we are shouting back and forth like maniacs. He nods, giving us a thumbs up.

"Yeah, go ahead." I nudge Luis, making him film again. I grab him, making him take a step back for safety, watching Cama receive the ball and shoot, hitting the net perfectly.

I cheer quietly, not wanting to disturb the audio of the footage as he smiles back at me, walking back to stand and watch the other players.

I have been working in the marketing and PR department at Real Madrid for about two years now. The club and players were generally very nice to work with, which made my job so much better.

It wasn't my permanent job. I had just started my third year of my law degree this new school year, combining online classes with this job. Balancing did get difficult at times, but I liked the fact that it kept me busy and motivated.

"Think we're good to go." Luis says, interrupting my thoughts as he points his camera downward.

"You sure?" I ask, whipping my head around.

"Yeah, the sun is about to melt us and the camera. Come on, let's go inside." He says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the pitch

"If you read this sentence, does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?" I ask Lina, her face scrunching up almost instantly.

I was confident enough to write this essay on my own, really, but having a friend keep me company made it way more fun.

"You know I don't like thinking about school. That's in the past for me." She says, her hands coming up in front of her defensively.

"Come on, please? I'll grab a drink for you in a minute." I beg, placing my hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth.

"Make it two."

"Deal."

"Okay, show me." She says, shoving a piece of pineapple into her mouth, grabbing my laptop and leaning forward as I repeat the question.

She types away for a second, adding a few words before turning to me after reading the sentence again.

"What are you writing? The damn Magna Carta? What kind of essay is this?" She asks, her eyebrows raised.

"It's about EU law." I sigh, I liked this subject, it was very interesting, but I couldn't wait to be done with this fifteen page essay.

"Explains a lot." She says, shoving another piece of fruit into her mouth. Her fork suddenly appearing in front of my face, a piece of watermelon spiced onto it.

"Thanks." I mutter, biting off the piece of fruit as I hear commotion in the hallways.

"Get me my drinks, please?" She asks, blinking at me. I roll my eyes, push my laptop back and get up.

"Let me guess, a lime soda and an orange juice?"

"You got it." She winks, smiling at me.

I chuckle at her, looking up as I watch the players pile into the cafeteria.

"Lunchtime?" I mouth at Lina, she checks the time on her phone, nodding.

I make my way to the bar, extending my arms up to grab two cups. The feeling of someone's hand on mine catching me off guard as I immediately let go of the cup. Turning around to see Jude right behind me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, sending him a nasty look. Invading my personal space wasn't enough, now he wants to steal my cup?

"Grabbing a cup?" He retorts in a menacing tone, sending a glare back.

I look at him, watching him fill his stolen cup with water, before he looks at me again.

"What?"

"Can you move?" I ask through gritted teeth, motioning to him how he's basically entrapping me in between the counter and himself.

He looks at me for a second as if to provoke me more, finally stepping away when I sigh.

I scoff, rolling my eyes and extend my arm to grab another cup apart from the one I already had.

I give him another nasty look, before filling both cups up and finally leaving his vicinity.

"Don't spill it on anyone." He says, mocking tone clear as day.

I turn again, fighting the urge to throw the precious orange juice into his annoying face before sighing and walking away.

"Hope he chokes on his water." I mutter, finally putting the two cups down on the table, in front of Lina.

"What was that back there? Another one of your tantrums?"

"No, his tantrum after he couldn't grab another cup, other than the one my hand was already on."

She chuckles, and I send her a slight glare, trying to delve back into my essay.

I was maybe halfway through already, having to hand it in next week. I might have procrastinated a little, but one thing about me was that I'll always get it done on time. No matter what.

Though, as I keep reading the word vomit I had written, I feel a wave of annoyance flow through me. I grunt, putting my face flat on the table.

Two more years, then I could finally do my specialization. Two more years.

"What's gotten into her?" I hear, recognizing Luis' voice. Then I hear a shift of the chair across from me as he sits down with- probably a tray of food.

"Essay." I hear Lina mumble, a hum coming from Luis in acknowledgment.

"Are you still not done with that essay? You got it assigned like three weeks ago." He says in a nagging tone.

I groan, remembering that I said that I wouldn't procrastinate this school year. Past me definitely hated the present me, and for sure hated future me even more if I kept this up.

I raise my head, huffing before sitting up straight. I blink a couple times to clear my vision and start to vigorously type again.

"Have you guys seen the final edit for tomorrow's match?" Luis says, covering his full mouth with his hand.

"No, who approved it?" I ask confused, glancing at the both of them and returning my gaze to my screen.

"Valeria did." He says. I look at him for a moment, scrunching my eyebrows together.

"Not surprised." I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Speaking of the devil." Lina says, and my eyes immediately dart around the room to find the devil in question.

She's staring right at our table, making a beeline towards us as the clicks of her heels get louder and louder.

Please don't sit here.

She gives us a painfully fake smile, swinging the iPad in her hand back and forth.

"Have you guys seen the edit I approved?"

Not even a hello?

"No, we haven't." Lina answers, and I stare at Valeria as she unfortunately sits across from me.

She chuckles, practically shoving the IPad in our faces, showing off the edit.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" She chuckles again, and I fight the urge to cover my ears instead of hearing her ear deafening, high-pitched laughter.

"It's alright." I say, giving her a smile. My opinion really didn't matter to her anyway, the least I could do was pretend to like it.

She nods, suddenly looking directly at me, glancing down at my laptop.

"Still working on school? Can't even think of how someone like you can balance it with this busy job." She says, smile pulling at her lips.

I raise my brows, looking at Lina and Luis for confirmation of what I had just heard her say.

They give me the same 'what the fuck' look, and I look back at Valeria, giving her a fake smile.

"I'm sure you couldn't think of it, Valeria." I say, keeping my retort minimal, I had to keep it professional, unlike her.

She looks at me, no words are exchanged further as an almost minute long silence follows.

She finally decides to leave after, sending both Luis and Lina a wave, doing her best to ignore me further.

"She's so weird. Always on my ass about something." I mutter, starting to type again.

"Don't think she's gotten over the fact that you were chosen to travel with the team this season." Lina says, patting my shoulder.

"Well, too bad for her. Like I've got time for her petty conversations."

If I was being honest; I couldn't stand being within five meters of her. And with the amount of meetings we had together, made life a little more difficult than I would've liked.

"Besides, you're coming with me. Why isn't she on your ass as well?" I ask Luis, seeing him shrug.

"Because I'm handsome?" He smirks, starting to flex his arms.

"She's annoying, but she doesn't have a vision problem." I hear Lina say, the both of us bursting out in laughter. Luis looking at us with the most defeated look ever, making us laugh even louder.

"Okay, alright, sorry. You're very handsome, we're just having a little fun. I promise." I say patting his hand, holding back more laughter as I dab away moisture from my eyes.

I finish typing my current chapter after calming down, observing the text, and double saving the document before turning my laptop off. I look around for a second, seeing the players and staff chat and laugh together. The buzzing of my phone redirecting my attention back to our table.

"y/n- your phone." Lina says, grabbing it to hand it to me.

I grab it after thanking her, reading the caller ID.

"Oh, it's my dad." I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute." I say, standing up to walk out of the cafeteria. I look around for a moment, then slide my finger to the right to pick up the call.

"Dad?"

"y/n, how's work going?" He says, the sound of a paper shredder in the background almost sabotaging my understanding of his sentence.

"Good, we're having lunch. How about you?" I reply, leaning against the wall.

"Same old. I called to tell you- I'm not having dinner at home tonight. Ask Carmen to make something you want to eat."

I hold back a sigh, closing my eyes in annoyance. He'd been working a lot since I was little, day and night. It had paid off very well. We had a big house and a beautiful backyard. He owned a law firm, in a nice area of the city and had a lot of clients.

His firm was also the legal representative of the club, being very close with President Pérez and manager Ancelotti themselves and other higher ups.

Of course, I was still thankful, I never had to worry about necessities like food and clothes, they were always provided for me on a silver spoon.

"Alright dad. See you tonight, love you."

I hang up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and walk back into the cafeteria.

"I'm going back to the office." I tell Lina and Luis, them looking up at me in concern.

"Why? Did something happen?" Luis asks, fixing his dark, curly hair.

"No, I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow." I force a smile, trying to cover up the fact that my mood was definitely ruined after that phone call.

I grab my laptop, holding it in between my arm and chest as I start making my way out of the cafeteria.

Not before I'm stopped by someone calling out to me.

"y/n!" I hear, looking up and seeing Vini call me over, Rodrygo and sadly, Jude standing next to him.

How did this communication even work?

I raise a brow, walking over to them.

"What's with that face? Trouble with your boyfriend?" Vini says in Spanish, greeting me with a hug.

"It's nothing like that! It was just my dad." I deny, laughing at him. My smile totally disappearing from my face when I make accidental eye contact with an irritated looking Jude next to Vini.

"Right, how's your dad? He hasn't been around lately." Rodrygo asks, greeting me as well.

"Busy- you know how he is..." I reply, swatting my hand. "I'll try to convince him to visit." I smile.

"Will you be coming with us to tomorrow's match?" Vini asks.

"Oh yeah, I'll be joining you on all the matches this season. You guys got lucky this time." I joke, giving him a little wink.

The two Brazilian men laugh, Vini patting my shoulder as I excuse myself to go up.

I twist the key in the door lock, opening the front door to my house. The smell of spices and sauces filling up my nostrils. I scramble to take my shoes off, throwing my bag onto the floor and making a beeline to the kitchen area.

"Aunty Carmen!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly.

"Oh my girl!" She coos, squeezing me even tighter.

"I missed you so much." I say, planting a kiss on her soft cheek, letting go of her.

"Me too. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll have dinner." She says warmly, going back to stirring the food.

Aunty Carmen was the lady who had been cooking for me and my dad since I was a child. Her food was finger-licking good, and I don't think I could ever survive without it.

She'd partially raised me, alongside my biological aunt, whom I lived in the UK with for a couple of years.

I had begged my dad to not send me to a boarding school, so he'd decided to send me off to live with my aunt, and made me attend an international school instead. A place, consisting of cultures and languages I always craved to be surrounded with becoming my second home.

"When is your dad coming?"

"Oh no, my dad isn't coming for dinner." I explain, pulling out two spoons and two forks out of the cabinet and walking over to the dinner table.

"He wasn't home last time either, why?"

"Too busy. You know how he is." I mumble, filling her glass with water.

"I'm sorry, my girl."

"It's fine- I'm used to it by now. You're here tonight at least." I beam, starting to dig into the food.

"Aunty, you never disappoint!" I exclaim, shoving another spoonful of food into my mouth.

"Slow down! It's not going to run away from you." She fusses, taking a bite of the food herself.

A comfortable silence falls in between us, the sound of our utensils clattering against the plates and bowls accompanied by the occasional comment about the taste of the food.

I join her in cleaning up the table, placing the rinsed dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and putting the leftovers into the fridge.

"If you look closely, you can see the food I made for the rest of the week. Make sure you close the lids well, so it can stay fresh." She says, drying her wet hands on a kitchen towel.

"Thank you." I say, giving her another hug.

"Oh, you're leaving already?" I ask, watching her grab her handbag. It was a pretty brown bag, a birthday present from me a couple years ago.

"I do sweetie. Take care of yourself." She says, pulling me into a hug.

"-and lock your doors, don't open them for anyone."

"You know I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty already! Besides, we have security cameras everywhere." I complain, folding my arms up to my chest.

"You've grown up too fast." She says, pinching the fat of my cheek, making me whine at the pain.

I sigh, a little sad as she opens the front door and walks out. I wave one more time, closing the door behind her and locking it as she had instructed.

My dad had keys to get in when I went to bed anyway.

I decide to get ready for bed, turning on the now full dishwasher, and going up to my room. Hoping everything will go smoothly as planned tomorrow.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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khuzena · 7 months

Text

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n! reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: i js wanna say fck SCHOOL FOR GIVING ME 6 PROJECTS DUE TOMORROW. THIS FIC IS MEH BUT TRUST IT GETS BETTER (hopefully…)

Veritas Ratio is a lonely man. Only having his books and his sculptures as friends— regarding the rest as no use for him.

Up till now, you've been nothing more than the pest who waves hi at him every morning, bringing him coffee every now and then. You must be scheming something, there's no way someone could ever be this nice without asking for a favour.

“Dr ratio!”

The alabaster headed man stared at you, even with that stone head of his, you can clearly feel his piercing gaze.

“What is it?”

Veritas groans in annoyance, what is it again?

Lately, you've been struggling to teach this subject. As well-versed you were in topics such as literature, history and the likes, it was true that you were above average with maths.

“I've been tutoring this kid after classes and well…”

He doesn't move, just listening intently.

“He's been asking about quantum mechanics and I don't know much about the topic so…”

“so?”

so?

“I was wondering if you can teach me it.”

God damn it, he has better things to do.

“Then read a book about it”

His eyes were trained on your figure as he saw you tense, just why him of all people?

“Dr ratio, just this once. I just need to learn the basics once and I won't bother you again!”

He closed his codex and turned the other way, ready to walk away from conversation.

“I have better things to do than humouring your foolish antics—”

“Please.”

Your hands fidget nervously as he paused before looking back at you, pondering whether to do you a favour.

“I'll think about it.”

By the time you blinked, he was gone.

The next day passed, you were at his door, clutching your teaching materials as you waited for veritas’ class to end.

He scrunched nose as annoyance rose in him like a tide, he could see you waiting at the window and checking the time every now and then.

“That ends our discussion for today.”

His voice echoing on the walls as the bell rang, his students already out the door.

After a good 10 minutes, most of the students were out the door as he was left alone with himself (+ those eyes of yours that never seem to leave him alone)

“It's rude to stare.”

His comment caught you off guard, the corners of your lips twitching nervously as you hid behind the wall again— shit, he caught you staring…

Veritas let out a sigh before cleaning his desk of the sparse test papers he's collected last week.

A moment of silence passed before you mustered up the courage to enter the spacious room, it was… quiet to say the least.

“Dr. Ratio—”

“I'll tutor you but with one condition.”

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you nervously anticipated what he's about to say. (Did I mention he paused to rile you up?)

“You,”

A click on his cabinet was heard before he turned at your direction to get a better look at you.

“That I won't have to tutor you again next time, just this once”

It was odd, a teacher asking for tutoring from a fellow teacher? It wasn't uncommon but it certainly irked him of the thought. You could just read a book about it but you'd rather take his precious hours in his day for something you could do yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“whew… I thought you were going to refuse.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head no, gripping your satchel tightly.

“Tomorrow at the faculty room after classes—”

When you blinked, he was already behind you. Was he a magician or something?!?

“—Don't be late.”

Then, the door closed abruptly, now it was only you in the room.

…

The next day, classes already ended and you cleaned up your desk to get to the faculty room.

As you slid the door open, he was already waiting for you.

“What're you doing?”

Veritas moved another chess piece on the board, eating the white team's queen.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

Why can't he just be nice for once?

“Whatever, so… do we start reviewing?”

You pulled the chair opposite to his and sat down. He didn't reply, only tapping his feet.

“Your turn.”

“Do I just?—”

“Just move a piece.”

Fine then. There were barely any pieces left on the board, leaving you with no other choice as you hid your king at the corner of the board.

“Checkmate.”

There was a visible annoyance on your face, making veritas chuckle.

“Seriously? When are you going to start tutoring me? I came here to learn something— not some stupid chess game”

“First of all, chess isn't stupid”

Before you knew it, veritas flicked your forehead.

“Second of all, learn patience.”

“ow!”

Veritas hid away the board and grabbed all the books needed, pulling out some notes and highlighters for you.

“Read”

The man in front of you flipped the pages and pointed at the highlighted paragraph for you. Was he making you read out loud? Were you 10 or something?

“Do I really have to?”

His fingers tapped aggressively on the board, his patience was thinning and you weren't even past the first page yet.

“Just do it.”

…

Who could've guessed two hours later you would be in tears, notes sprawled all over the table and veritas shouting at you.

“Idiot.”

He commented on your work before rewriting the entire thing for you and repeating it again.

“God dammit we're not even past the 20th page yet you're here crying like a child.”

Sniffles echoed in the room, only his lamp illuminating the room. You checked your phone and it was already 8 pm.

“Now read.”

“Q-quantum mechanics…”

He clenched his jaw, raising his voice at you before you could continue.

“You imbecile, not that— can't you read?!? Its wave function!”

“Whatever!”

Before he could react, you stood up, bag already in hand and walking away.

“We're not done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Just like that, you were gone.

…

Despite you running off yesterday… There you were sitting on that same chair with the alabaster head man right in front of you.

“Again?”

You bit your lip nervously before tightening the grip on your pen.

“Yeah.”

Veritas nodded as he placed down his codex and walked to the sprawled shelves at his desk, his fingers tracing over the books (those books were rotting on those shelves, too dusty he had to wipe them)

“here.”

He took the book off the shelf and thrusted it into your hands.

‘The nonlinear schrodinger equation’

“Let's start with the ‘weakly nonlinear dispersion relation’ topic.”

Time flies by as he explains each term to you, giving definition after definition about each equation in front of you.

“Here, page 24.”

He pointed at the first equation but your eyes couldn't leave his stone head.

For an intimidating man, he's getting quite patient with you.

“— and let's compute the coefficients, after that,”

You couldn't stop wondering what he looked like under that stone head. It's hot out here, he must be sweating a tsunami in there. Is he handsome? or maybe he's wearing that stone head because he looks that bad?

“—the quantum mechanical pressure becomes negligible in the ‘semiclassical’ where nabla and—”

He hit your head with a codex, with no hesitation at all.

“ow!”

Oh shit— he must've noticed you staring.

“What were we reviewing?”

uh…

You gulped nervously, looking down at the page, you guys were already at page 26?!?

“0 points.”

He smacked you but with less force, though enough to leave a bruise.

“that hurt…”

“Then listen, don't waste my time.”

Under that alabaster head of his, a small smile formed from the corner of his lips due to the amusing sight before him.

“You're annoying, let's go over the fluid-dynamical form again.”

You weren't that boring after all.

…

You both were already at page 31, which was slow progress (at least to him, he can finish the book in under 3 hours.), yet still progress nonetheless.

“Do you get it now?”

It was already 9:58 pm, shit. You both got carried away…

“Yeah.”

Veritas handed the book over to you and hid away his highlighters.

“Go review at home— you better finish page 40.”

You nod, shoving the book into your satchel and your water bottle.

Today was… fun.

As you walked outside, one foot already out the door, you looked back.

“What?”

“and…”

There was a moment of silence, none of you moving before your voice shook,

“Thank you.”

He didn't say anything back, only putting back his folders in his bag as he removed his attention from you. You shook your head and just walked home.

…

It was the third day of him tutoring you, you were getting quite good.

“And how do you do the hamilton equation?”

There was a weird habit you did, you would bite your pen or sometimes click it nonstop due to stress (which you did now, don't do it too much though, you'll piss off veritas.)

You let out a soft hum before confidently writing the equation, no error in sight.

“And these quantities are called?”

“They're uh… momentas, right?”

“20 points— you're getting good at this.”

Receiving praise from others came by often, but to get one from the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself? You could wish.

Your eyes were glued at the scratch paper, unable to contain your smile; the aeons definitely smiled down on you and blessed you with his attention for today.

He takes note of this, but doesn't comment on that any further, only flipping the pages.

…

The fourth day. It was 2 pm, 3 hours earlier than the usual tutor hours. A new coffee shop opened in the food court at the university, which turned into the new buzz (the old coffee shops were shit.)

The line was long, your legs were about to give up but your students would occasionally suggest this shop, saying it's definitely better than the instant coffee at the teacher's lounge.

After 5 more minutes, it was finally your turn to order.

“Good afternoon! What can I get ya?”

The menu was definitely diverse, candy corn flavoured coffee? That's new.

“I'll take your special cappuccino”

The cheerful cashier jotted down your order, asking for your name then running to the back.

You sat down at some table and took out your laptop, fixing your schedules for this weekend.

“For ___?”

Eh? That was fast. It only took them 3 minutes to make your order despite the heavy line? Impressive.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and snatched the cup from the counter and walked back to your seat.

It tasted funny. Coffee jelly in cappuccino with sprinkles on top? At Least it tasted good.

“And here I was wondering where you are.”

“ack!”

You looked up and saw veritas in front of you, looming over you with his codex behind him after he hit you.

“that hurt…”

He sighed and sat down next to you while you rubbed the bruised area.

“Stop hitting people with your codex damn it!”

“I find it far more interesting to use my codex to get your attention.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the way scoffed, sipping your coffee and typing some requirements on an excel sheet.

“Anyways, why were you looking for me?”

He leaned back on the couch, before responding,

“Nothing, I was just wondering where the idiot was.”

“You little—”

Only a soft sigh left your lips as you continued to type, veritas beside you reading his codex and none of you saying a word.

Though this peaceful moment was short lived as the bell rang, signalling that the two of you had to go back to your respective classes.

Veritas sat up, closing his book.

“It's time for me to go.”

“Oh yeah.”

Veritas was gone in a blink of an eye, what's up with him disappearing so suddenly 24/7?!?

…

5 pm.

You were patiently waiting in the faculty room, what was taking veritas so long?

“You're late”

Veritas rolled his eyes— wait.

His stone head was… was this really the veritas ratio? He had nice purple hair, his eyes, he looked so… beautiful.

No way.

“When are you going to stop staring?”

“Oh— uh.”

You chuckled nervously before forcing a smile as he sat down in front of you.

“Let's continue where we let off.”

The sound of flipping pages reverberated across the room, your eyes locked onto his face. He would occasionally click his tongue at some parts of the book, guiding you through each equation as his face was close to yours; enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“—because its transformation φ is a symmetry and thus preserves the Lagrangian L and the action ,S=∫L”

Veritas ratio leaned closer to you, your hands touching as he got closer,

“Do you get it now?”

You didn't. You were too focused on his face, with every wrinkle of his brows, the tiniest details of his jaw and hell, even his eyes. How could you even focus? With his face inches away from yours? No way. The man right next to you stares at you, tapping his fingers on the mahogany table; he repeated himself.

“I said, do you get it now?”

Like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your last card was to lie but he was smart enough to not fall for that.

“Y-yes”

“Then what were we reviewing just now?”

He rolled his eyes hearing your mind blank out and confused ‘uhhs’ escaped your lips. You flinch from his harsh tone, as the cold stare turned into a glare.

“We should be reviewing the noether theorem, not my face.”

He made you solve equation after equation, his gaze not leaving you once as he crumpled your papers even after one minor mistake, “Idiot”, “Do it again.”, and “Are you really paying attention?” Constantly rang in your ears, you were not sure whether you asked for a tutoring session or a three hour insulting session from the revered professor.

“I'm sorry.”, He sighed at your visible frustration as you apologised through gritted teeth. He started to pity you when you struggled with just the terms at the next lesson. Was this theorem that hard? He dropped his pen and closed the book.

“Let’s end today’s session.”

A look of relief appeared on your face as he said those words, clearly, he’ll give you a break—

“Just read this book instead. It gives a more in-depth explanation”

— or not. He thrusted the book in your hands and put on his alabaster head, making you raise an eyebrow,

“What? You can’t seem to focus without this on”

You laughed an awkward chuckle while sliding the book in your satchel, a small squeak was heard when he stood up and moved his chair at his desk.

“Tomorrow again?”

“Sure.”

…

Veritas tapped his feet aggressively as time past by, you were late by 20 minutes, by now he would've left but for some reason he's feeling nice today that he'll wait for you.

The faculty room door slid open as light footsteps entered the room.

“Sorry ‘m late.”

You smelled different today. That would sound creepy to the average person but despite the tight alabaster sculpture that covers his face, he could smell your perfume and that he's gotten used to your scent by now.

“Did you wear something new?”

“Come again?”

He took one glance at you and shook his head and shifted his attention to the complex arithmetics on his codex.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

It was hard to ignore you as he tried to mute your voice but he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a quick glance at you.

“I meant your perfume, idiot.”

“No need to be rude.” you scoffed and placed down your bag at your desk.

He finds himself eager for a response as your right hand shuffled in your bag looking for the perfume bottle,

“I just tried something new.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table to take a closer look at the bottle, inspecting it with a skeptical look one he's glad you cannot see through his sculpted head.

“It was a gift from one of our coworkers here”

There was a loud slamming sound that rang in the room when you dropped the materials Veritas made you read, it was a pain highlighting everything.

“From who?”

Why was he suddenly interested? He's not one to ask about anyone's affairs so suddenly, not that he'd care about something so miniscule about you like perfume yet you humour him.

“From Amir, the history prof guy?”

“I see.” For some reason, he finds himself feeling annoyed after hearing who you got it from. Why would you accept a gift from that idiot? He's a far better history professor, definitely? definitely.

Hours passed yet he couldn't concentrate. Not with that foul stench of your new perfume of yours.

Dr. Ratio scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued to guide you through each and every lesson, harsher than usual— you didn't know why.

“Wrong answer, 2 points.”

Veritas smacked your arm with his heavy codex and snatched your answer sheet, crumpling it and tossing it in the bin.

“Do it again.”

This fucker. You were starting to lose your resolve but you do not falter under his scrutinising gaze.

Again and again. Another 30 minutes yet your answers didn't seem ‘perfect’ enough.

Veritas clicked his tongue in annoyance as you failed to answer another simple question again

“Are you even paying attention?”

“If you didn't yell at me every minute I would've”

You continued to write more equations as he rolled his eyes at your reply, his eyes scanned your work and it was okay (atleast to his standards).

His eyes squinted, looking for any mistake but there was none, he gave up.

“50 points”, he spoke in a defeated tone.

“Just 50?”

“0 points then”

“Oh come on.”

It was hell getting tutored by him.

A/N: ITS TWO PARTS COS FUCK TUMBLR AND TOLD ME THERES A WORD LIMIT LOL. THE FULL FIC WAS LIKE 6.4K WORDS OR SHIT DAMN. ITS SO CRINGE ONG IMMA POST PART TWO TMRW GOD. IM LAGG>NG SO NAD RN HELP

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dr ratio angst #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #honkai star rail x you #veritas ratio

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Text

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman. It stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing king in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

“Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!”

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

“My apologies, Papa,” you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell.

The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is Ser Lysan? And what in the seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the east.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy. It is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call. He had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he is naught but a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.”

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness, such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing admonitions of the queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.”

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the king explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really. For an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, she is. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say with a pleased look. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—is an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind a much younger version of you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided. “I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during small council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the white cloak—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy on your face. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view.

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. To lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin.” You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned.

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

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dutybcrne · 8 months

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Kaeya's made peace with the fact that Diluc resents him and anticipates him to act accordingly, having set off his wrath before. He is mildly afraid of actually angering Jean, and would do what he can to ensure he never sees it.

But the one that would devastate him the most would be genuine anger from the Traveler.

#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Bc they; like Diluc; know his heritage #//They KNOW he's Khaenri'ahn; and even that he has ties to the Order #//And yet they NEVER thought to think of him as an enemy nor changed their view of him #//They are PRECIOUS to him for that #//A friend he can finally start trusting more and more of himself #//If he were to do anything that changes that; to make them so Upset with him for whatever reason?#//He would actually be so gutted #//The Traveler wasn't as close to him as Diluc once was; yet they accepted him so easily #//Granted; the circumstances of revelation were Very Different #//But it's still something enough to make them Safe in his mind #//Safer and more trustworthy than even Diluc #//No matter how much Kaeya wishes he could go back to that #//No matter how much Kaeya is tempted to try and bridge the gap and share what he knows with him again #//Heck I'm veering off course kjdrbg #//Tldr; Traveler very dear to Kae. If he ever make them Big Mad; he would be Hella Sad #//Makes his Abyss!verse hit all the harder juuust a bit #//He's so afraid of messing things up between them; but then can't help self-sabotaging sometimes #//Bc if something's already damaged; it'll hurt less once/if it breaks...right?#hc; kaeya

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harritudur · 1 year

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(more of my theonsa AU in the series-verse) One morning the Queen in the North knocked on the door of her loyal and precious counselor, Lord Greyjoy, the broken kraken -her shadow as they called him. She meant to talk about the last received missives or the new fiscal decisions. But then he took her fingers with his -so warm- ungloved hand and looked at her with true fondness… For the first time in a very long time, she felt absolutely safe and ready to trust a man not to hurt her.

#i live in this AU now #MY BROKEN BABIES THAT FIND SOLACE INTO EACH OTHER #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #theonsa #my art

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viserya-firstofhername · 2 months

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Listen, I thought I would survive this season lurking on the sidelines, but I can’t. Jace broke my heart tonight after surpassing any and every character GRRM ever created in my brain and heart since reading Fire and Blood, and I need to talk about 2x07.

Strong words, yes, damn ugly, when Jace is calling people ‘mongrels’ (no we ain’t letting it slip, no, but the rest of men are sometimes getting away with whores, mothers-of-bastards, are we good with these now cause its common speech or smth). Imagine that tho, classist Jacaerys going through calling himself things in his head every day of his life while looking at his beautiful visibly not-silver curls getting in his eyes. Just imagine for a second. So distinct.

It’s bubbling in him for years. And his entire family - his mother, his father, his other father, his third father (the epitome of Targaryen legacy if there ever was one), his grandfathers, every person that his young heart wants to trust - refusing to talk to him about it. While every ‘family’ member deemed unsafe - read - Aegon, Aemond, Alicent (even fucking Cole) is out there ready to discuss the obvious with anyone at any given time, including Jace himself. Why does his mother play pretend for 16 years not once speaking to him about it? How often does he ask himself? Alicent has dark hair, why does Aegon look like a true Targaryen? How often does Jace lose sleep over this thought.

I have news for you babes. He got his first perception of what ‘mongrel’ is from the mirror. If you need him to spell it out, you haven’t been paying attention.

I’ve slowly shifted to preferring his show characterization to the one in the book (he is my favourite Targ in asoiaf books and shows verses, and I know I know book!Jace had the whole little pet project with the Dragonseeds and he had two dozen powerpoint presentations and a huge spreadsheet document about it, and a separate spreadsheet he made just to calculate and weigh in benefits and negatives of offering such power to bastards. Yet. YET). He sees what neither Viserys nor Rhaenyra allowed themselves to see, blinded by their entitlement, classism and feeling of supremacy. Jacaerys, mind you, everyone that is calling him a bastardphobe and whatnot, realizes that if anyone—anyone—I repeat—ANYONE—outside direct family is to claim a dragon, in 25 years he himself will be in the exact same situation as his mother. Vermithor or Silverwing alone are no lesser treats than Vhagar, and as his mother like to remind him, Vermax is young. If a man (pay attention) claims any of the two, Jace’s inheritance will be out the window, no matter how many silver-haired babies he has with his cousin-step-sister, Rhaenyra's intentions would die with her last breath.

So what is he to do? Is he to lay abed, eat cake and dangle his feet, waiting for the inevitable to come? No. He is to do exactly what he has been doing since he was 8 (younger even!) – learn High Valyrian, train with the sword, be impeccable in dragonriding, in diplomacy, in manners, while nourishing the relationships with all his younger siblings, preparing them to be his closest allies (half of which we have never seen Rhaenyra display, except the proficiency in the only two skills that are explicitly Targaryen, nigh a feeble attempt at diplomacy once when she tried to betroth Jace to Helaena, and after her ex now stepmom turned her down she fled to the nearby island). Not to mention he was doing fine managing amiable connection with Aegon and to some extent Aemond before the grown-ups and their big fucking heads laid the seeds (ha!) for the feud to continue in their generation.

Read the above paragraph again. He does it all, for years, as well as he can, while also taking care of and shielding his brothers. And so far, instead of acknowledging his accomplishments we’ve only seen Rhaenyra respond with slack filler statements like “No worries Jacey, precious, it’s far in the future, don’t push yourself too hard” (listen, I know we can’t be certain just because it wasn’t on-screen, and she definitely did good raising her kids, but I’m getting the vibe she isn’t one for words of affirmation, she ain’t really good at that iykwim, and it’s his language), and Jacaerys bows his head, says ‘Yes, Mother’ and then proceeds to pressure himself beyond his limits (and Luke as well – as we saw in 1x10 – because he realizes how delusional and naïve the ‘no pressure’ statement is.)

Gods oh gods, and imagine, this is just one layer, but he is also a young man, and a young man’s ego.. Well. I feel like I should also quote bby boi Jon Snow, and his reasoning on why he won’t lay with women (ironic how that turned out).

Now layer all the above with the following. He is born with black hair. Luke too. Joff too. Obviously Jace as the oldest will take care of them and shield them. But then, but then, the moment she gets the opportunity, Rhaenyra marries Daemon. And of course. Names her first silver-haired son Aegon. (her channelling her father here SO much i can't even). Do I need to start a counter of the fucking number of daggers in Jace’s heart by now?

One more Rhaenyra says. One more dagger should be fine, he is her bestest most perfect boy, nothing can hurt him. Nothing can hurt him, so she leaves him to deal with the Small Council on his own repeatedly. Nothing can hurt him so she conspires with a rando and refuses to keep him in the loop. Nothing can hurt him, so she flies out alone and comes back with her shiny new dragonrider and doesn’t even acknowledge Jace, he has to go reach out to her first. (good gods, imagine if Addam had silver hair).

He can take one more, the most perfect boy, Rhaenyra says. (I wrote this one before Emma D’arcy’s new interview where they directly confirm Rhaenyra felt justified to choose herself over Jacaerys).

Let me dive you for a second in Jace’s POV for this one (in the magical method of David Lightbringer): Imagine you are the first born child. You have studied and build yourself to be deserving of being your Mother’s son, but you never quite get proficient enough to change your physical features. Then. Your grandsire dies, your uncle steals everything from your Mother, and your first proposal on any counteraction gets your little brother killed.

You blame yourself, you feel tremendous guilt - how did this happen - you were always the perfect son (you don’t even acknowledge the small victories you win for your Mother, you were always good at these skills you honed pedantically for years, it is not an achievement). You do not let yourself grieve, instead you have to make it up for the loss you caused.

But your Mother continuously keeps you in a cage allegedly for your own wellbeing, which brings its own amount of frustration at the age of 16. But you sneak out and win another small victory – the only price you need to pay is your late father’s rightful inheritance. You get recognition for a second, but then Mother complains that her ails for being caged are greater than your ails for being caged, and you as a good son try to figure a way out for both of you.

So, after keeping you in this cage for safety, which you are not asking for - on the opposite - your idea gets transmuted by some rando into a plan that will take away the last pillar of legitimacy you see in yourself. Imagine now, not only have you been stripped of it, but Mother scolds you for complaining.

And you finally break – no mother, if you do this I am exactly the mongrel I was told I was all my life, I called myself – but it comes out jagged and aggressive and immature, and you become a little entitled primadonna. But either way you ask, beg, plead for one thing, just this one thing – truly for yourself – you must deserve that much, one need for your very being to remain whole and for yourself to be able to keep your feet on the ground and mind whole. That one thing, that one time, you ask her to pick you over herself. And Mother choses herself.

In Jacaerys’ mind this last decision of hers invalidates all her arguments of keeping him safe, because ultimately, he realizes she is keeping him safe to satisfy her own needs, without realizing 1) what damage she is doing to him as a human being, and most importantly 2) she is preserving himself only while she lives – she ultimately does not care what will happen to him once she is no longer alive.

It is very rude way to put it, but it is a very human and very real thing real parents do sometimes, especially when their (eldest) kids are severely parentified. And Rhaenyra, bless her, not putting the blame on her entirely, is in an impossible situation too, but is also immature more often than not. It’s in the genes. And has been lonely and abandoned often, and believes if there is one man that will never abandon her, it’s her bestest boi Jace. And no one told her a firstborn son is not supposed to fill the role of a partner. I am however very saddened to see she did not learn a single lesson from her interactions with Viserys – especially that she seems incapable of realizing she’s shutting out Jacaerys brutally, just as her father did with her. For 20 damn years, she has been subjected to abandonment and being left all alone (by all the men in her life), and she can’t realize she’s doing the same to Jace, while also keeping him on a leash, caged with her, unable to seek refuge anywhere.

Truly heartbreaking.

I think that ought to be enough layers to cover the strong classist word for y’all. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

(I feel a quick exclaimer is needed. As a viewer I find that development extremely juicy, it fed me well and I am relishing and relating to both, not criticizing. But Jace is also my best boi, so there you go.)

#the fulminations of viserya #hotd anatomisation #i love them all dearly they are mine babes and i cry for them weekly #by the way daemon would have lost his shit if he was in dragonstone to witness rhaenyras behaviour #oh did i mention mothereffing oliver tully. bby. hon. bro. sis! welcome back lyanna mormont. what a fucking mvp #the acting tho? phenomenal #what beauteous soldier poet princeling #welcome back lisan al gaib #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd 2x07 #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen

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