#god. it's a lot of thoughts and feelings at once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shesjustanothergeek · 2 days

Text

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment.

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end.

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue.

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies.

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning.

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully.

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands.

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him.

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.”

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters.

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands.

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.”

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking.

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention.

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today.

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps.

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father.

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather.

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon.

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand.

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence.

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels.

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers.

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon.

“Uncle Aemond, I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same. Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim. Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful. Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble.

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image.

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.”

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in.

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen.

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades.

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness.

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.”

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it.

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone.

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.”

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you.

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you.

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth.

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys.

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind.

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress.

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye.

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates.

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons.

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep.

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon.

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes.

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle.

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it.

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of.

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms.

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.”

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.”

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.”

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit.

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard.

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls.

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom.

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side.

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears.

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again.

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.”

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight.

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives.

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire.

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.”

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity.

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not.

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes.

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.”

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?”

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes.

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs.

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you.

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece.

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal.

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers.

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.”

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up.

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

81 notes · View notes

warmilikeit · 1 day

Text

Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

I got this idea from another Tumblr post and I'm pretty new so, ion know how to tag and stuff, pls tell me

______________

"So... My mom just disappeared?" A little 6 year old (Name) asks Alfred about her mom

Alfred turned back like he was reminiscing "The Gala was for three nights, the first night she mesmerized all, the second night she befriended everyone, the third night she slept with your father"

.....

"then she disappeared, then you were dropped on our little doorstep! We were skeptical at first then we DNA tested you, you're Bruce's kid so you are the Wayne Manor's baby! And you and your Daddy are one big happy family"

That was lie. That a big lie

You know Alfred was just trying to make you feel better

It wasn't working.

________________________

You feel like shit, they look so fucking happy, for years and years have passed, your 12 now for God sake

Every year a new family photo was taken and as the years pass more and more people are added to the photos

And the phrase "the more the merrier was always said to you" like they were trying to drill it into your head, but it seemed like every year, you were being pushed farther and farther back into the photos till you're barely noticeable

It sucks at home and it sucks at school, at home at least you only had Damian to worry about, he would torture and bully you, remind you of how unloved and unwanted you were here, but at school?

It was everyone.

It doesn't help how you're unable to focus that much either, always getting called by teachers when you're not paying attention, and then them ridiculing you

Also, with the fact that your entire family are vigilantes except you.

Except you, you tried, and you were good at it, the problem was, why did it seem like a lot of villains were after you

So you were stuck at the manor

"hello" a woman inside the Manor spoke

This shocked you, she looked too old to be another kid adopted by that... But you can't be too sure

"new kid?" You asked

She seemed taken aback, but then it was like a veil was lifted and she transformed into this ew

Wtf did she just turn into?

Suddenly she had this donkey leg and snake tongue and fire for hair, her eyes slit and she hissed at you

Then she attacked

"OH WHAT THE FUCK"

With no weapon and no Alfred in hand, you ran

She ran after you and lit the hallways on fire in the process

You ran fast and far, to the outskirts of the mansion and straight into the garden, now when you thought your day could not get ANYMORE weirder, a voice calls out in the bushes

"I knew it! I knew you were a half-blood!I wasn't sure, but now I am!" You turn around and see a full ass tree transform into a beautiful lady

You're sure that Gotham Prep once talked about the side effects of drugs, and even if you haven't taken any drugs, you feel the side effects

"don't be scared, I'm a nymph! Me and my friends will help you run away from the empousa!" She grabbed me and threw me in the lake

A hand grabs you and pulls you further underwater, as much as you struggled, the hand kept pulling you and pulling you till your deep and then changed direction

Like you guys were heading somewhere, it felt like days, the hands alternating, first hands were blue and the lady whom the hands belonged too sounded worried, second hands were green, the lady was surprised

Third hand was light bluish purple, she expressed concern and kept pulling

The last hand was of human skin tone, pulling you up to shore

"Sir Chiron! There's a camper! The Naiads bought her here! Sir Chiron!"

He turns to look at you a bit worried, he looked from 13-14

He said "My name is Percy Jackson, and yours?"

_________________

Who do y'all think (Name)'s mom is?

Also the lack of Batfam dialogue is meant to represent their neglectful behavior, too bad their not gonna have a kid to return to

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #yandere platonic #yandere batfam #dc universe #crossover #percy jackson #greek mythology #dcu

139 notes · View notes

binniesbooks · 2 days

Text

• OFFICE WORKS

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 0.5k

pairings workmate!TXT x officeworker!reader

warnings smut

faye's note hard thoughts for our boys, while you guys are waiting for my upcoming fics! Hehe. Sorry for being super busyyy :<

CHOI YEONJUN

- His aura screams team leader-- who fucks every girl from your department. Totally the manwhore type of guy. He would force you to do overtime, only to have you bended on your desk, balls deep inside you.

"I know and I can see you how you look at me, baby."

"The rumors? Hmm, what do you think?"

"Fuck, I really love untouched women like you."

"Shit, you're so tight."

"Haven't felt such a good pussy for a long time."

"Damn, your pussy feels better than (insert co-workers name)."

"Should've done this a lot earlier, shit you're so fucking good!"

CHOI SOOBIN

- The pervert desk mate. Yes. He loves peeking when your skirt hikes up a little. Gets hard whenever he sees you walking towards your desk. Often fantasizes about groping your ass and fucking your breast. Carefully and silently palms himself whenever you're too immersed on your work. Would masturbate imagining you after arriving home, still on his office attire. Offers you a "water" to sober up one time after volunteering to take you home after a team dinner. A total pussy drunk once he got his dick wet.

"Ah, fuck, I really wanted to feel you."

"Please, one chance Y/n."

"Fuck, you're so hot."

"My hand perfectly fits on your breast, I think they're made for me."

"Can i fuck your tits, pretty please?"

"You're so good, pussy so good."

"Please let me cum inside you."

"I'll take full responsibility, please."

CHOI BEOMGYU

- Another workmate, your rival for your aimed position. He loves teasing you and getting into your nerves. Would purposely knock your coffee over your paper works. Often makes a bet with you.

"I didn't mean it, it's just an accident."

"If you make me cum, I'll withdraw, if you cum first, you need to withdraw from the position."

"Fuck, wait fuck!"

"Shit! Shit! M-move! Fuck!"

"Ahh! Fuck you."

KANG TAEHYUN

- The boss. Bossy. Bitch. Whatever it is. He loves commanding you. Loves to use you when he's stressed out. Fucks you like there's no tomorrow whenever he is angry. Please scratch his back with your nails, he loves it.

"Fuck them! Fuck them all!"

"God, they don't have any single idea about what's going on and they judge as if they know everything--- you're so fucking tight!"

"Get on your knees, I'm stressed."

"Do they even know how I made it up here?"

"Stop moving and complaining! I don't fucking care if it hurts already! I'm not yet done!"

HEUNING KAI

- He is just a cute intern. The one who loves to get your attention by asking work related questions which he clearly knows already. Would blush and get hard from the slightest touch, like when you tap his shoulder to try and cheer him up or when you intertwined your arms on his while happily telling him a story. And one day, he just traps you inside the rest room and practically begs you to jack him off.

"Please? I just need you."

"I promise, I'll behave."

"Please, please please."

"Mmpph! N-no I'm not noisy."

"Oh, fuck m-more."

"S-stop now, s-stop."

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #yeonjun's books #beomgyu's books #taehyun's books #heuning kai's books #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x you #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt scenarios

129 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 2 days

Text

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. “I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

78 notes · View notes

darkveracity · 2 days

Note

How do you think each Tsukihime girl would feel about getting pregnant?

Ok so this is what we're doing now huh

Arcueid: Can Arc even get pregnant? I'm going to go with no but even if she can chances are she knows only the vaguest of details about it. Any Arcueid pregnancy adventure is going to involve an awful lot of explaining basic facts of human biology to her while she glosses over major details in favor of fixating on small points most other people don't consider important

Ciel: Ciel is going to cry from joy not so much because she got pregnant but because the fact that she can get pregnant now means she's truly free of her curse. Her body can once again change and grow and even bear children. The next time she sees Noel she goes on and on about how happy she is and how wonderful her life has become and inadvertently pisses Noel off so badly she ruins her entire week

Noel: Noel's first thought on learning she's become pregnant is to be happy at finally achieving a little slice of a normal life, her second thought is to call Ciel and try to rub it in her face as hard as possible, and somewhere distantly in third is the fact that she is in no way ready to become a mother and oh god this is going to fuck everything up

Satsuki: I think she's just normal about it actually. Satsuki's narrative position as a love interest is to be the normal classmate, the girl next door, an ordinary person drawn into this supernatural world by happenstance rather than someone steeped in it like the rest of the cast and this means her reaction to getting pregnant is just normal too

Akiha: Getting pregnant makes all of her self-loathing and belief that she's a monster crash down on her at once. Given the blood of demons that she carries, given what her family has done, is it really right to bring any more of them into the world? Should not the Tohnos simply end with her? Also more than anyone else she experiences pregnancy as total body horror - her frame simply isn't built for it and she finds it both painful and disgusting. Combined with the extreme hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy and their emotional effects I think she tries to kill herself at least once

Hisui: She's really quiet but from the way that she smiles you can tell that she's simply too happy to express herself well. Second most normal about it after Satsuki

Kohaku: She sits staring into space and dissociating out of her mind for six hours straight and then brews herself an abortion drug and quietly takes care of it without telling anyone

#tsukihime #arcueid brunestud #ciel #noel #satsuki yumizuka #akiha tohno #hisui #kohaku #tsukire

55 notes · View notes

plussizeappreciationfics · 2 days

Text

One shot: Falling in love

Requested ? : yes by @queenoftheworldisdead

Request: Can you do Pedro pascal and plus reader? Maybe he falls for a costume designer on the set of one of his films?

Warning(s): nope

A/N: I changed it to the makeup artist if you don't mind! @queenoftheworldisdead

Image(s) found on Google/Pintersest

"He should be here any minute", Sarah, your assistant spoke as she watched you let out a long yawn before continuing to put the brushes, blushes, small bowl of fake blood and hair clips onto the table.

"He better, or else he won't need my makeup at all, I could beat his face with my bare hands" you joked while putting up your fists and pretending to punch an imaginary person. Your assistant chuckled and made a mental note to ask Pedro's assistant if they could make a tiktok video with that concept.

Before she could voice her thoughts, the door to the trailer opened and a loud "Buenas dias!" erupted through the small room, Pedro entering the trailer and quickly closing the door behind him and greeting the two of you with hugs and kisses on the cheeks.

At your turn, you couldn't help but inhale the fresh scent of his body wash and perfume. That man always smelled like he was blessed by the Gods themselves. The Chilean actor grinned at you before whispering another "Good morning, beautiful" to you, making sure that Sarah wouldn't hear his special greeting for you.

"Good morning, you're five minutes late. My time is money, Pascal" you playfully scolded while patting his back, making him give you a quick kiss on the cheeks. "I am sorry, I will be on time tomorrow", he promised and finally released you from the tight hug, not that you wanted it but it was time to get to work.

"Okay, today you're shooting a lot of fight scenes, so your face is gonna look pretty beaten and bloody", you informed to which Pedro sighed and nodded his head, knowing that today would be a physical exhausting day. Nonetheless, he loved his job and loved that he got to spend the following hour in peace and with you.

"Okay, I'll see if Denzel is ready, if he is then I'll start his makeup too" Sarah informed you. You hummed in response while focusing your eyes on the makeup you had set up, ready to be used. She nodded her head at your vocal response and quickly left the trailer, knowing that you and Pedro needed all the concentration in the world.

Once Sarah had closed the door behind her, Pedro sat down in his designated chair and removed his glasses, placing them on the table and letting out a tired sigh before focusing his gaze on you. You were standing next to him, leaning over to open the SFX makeup jar while thinking about how long and deep the first fake scar would need to look like.

"I'm really Sorry, mi amor. I overslept" Pedro's gentle voice pulled you out of your rhythm, to which you chuckled and faced him while silently admiring his beautiful face. His eyes stared deeply into your and he had this genuine look of regret on his face, his brown eyes begging you for forgiveness.

"You have nothing to worry about Pedro, I was half joking" you chuckled and patted him on his shoulder, not realizing that goosebumps had made their way across his skin at your touch, his stomach churned in delight nervousness while his heart fluttered in his chest. That man was long gone for you.

"When are we going to address this" Pedro responded, his question making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you felt like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do.

"Address what?" you asked and let out a nervous chuckle, the actor's piercing and loving gaze keeping you on your toes. The tension shifted in the trailer and a part of you knew that you needed to start doing your job or else the director would get annoyed at the delay.

"How we both are hopelessly in love with one another. How I can feel your increased heartbeat whenever I hug you, how you're the first and last thing on my mind. How I know that you're not gonna allow yourself to voice your deepest thoughts about your feelings towards me because you know that falling in love with an actor is not the most convenient thing on this planet".

Pedro gave you a wide smile, his eyes sparkling while you sat there awestruck. He had read you like an open book and you felt somehow exposed but at the same time relieved because he had indeed voiced your deepest thoughts.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you broke the intense eye contact for a few seconds, needing to gather your thoughts.

"Pedro..." you sighed and looked back at him again, seeing how he leaned forwards and gently placed his hands on your thick waist, pulling you closed to him so that now you were standing in front of him.

He gently wrapped his strong arms around your waist and placed his chin on your big stomach, smiling up at you and looking so damn adorable and handsome that it made your heart skip a beat while a delicate shiver ran its way down your spine.

"I know what you're thinking. I am asking you for one date, an afternoon or evening where it's just the two of us and nobody else. No work, no coworkers just us. If you decide to not pursue your feelings and keep things professional, I will do the same", Pedro's suggestion sounded heavenly.

"Okay, one date. And then a few days time to gather my thoughts and then I'll let you know my decision" you repeated with a quick head nod, loosing the inner battle of not touching the actor and gently letting your soft hand brush through his still damp curls. The motion made the actor let out a soft sigh, already loving your touch and yearning for only more.

"Thank you. I will set everything up, all I need from you is to show up".

"Don't tell me that, I will show up in sweats and a baggy shirt" you chuckled and shook your head.

Pedro surprised you by quickly standing up, still holding you in close while a wide grin took over his face.

"I don't give a fuck how you'll dress up, I'm already blessed to know that I'll spend a few hours with you", his romantic confession made you bite back a shit-eating grin as you felt your knees weaken.

"We gotta get back to work now, or both of our asses will be served on a silver platter" you spoke and let out a sigh, wishing that this moment would never stop. You had finally gotten the confession you had been secretly been hoping and wishing for. A deep sense of peace and glee settled in your soul as you couldn't wait for the special date.

"Then let's get back to work, but not before this-" Pedro surprised you by leaning forward and stealing a soft, gentle kiss from your lips. The delicateness of his motion making your head spin while your lips tingled with glee. You gasped at the sensations and pushed the actor back in his seat, making him let out a chuckle while you shook your head and finally got to work on his face.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal x you #plus size reader #pedro x reader

42 notes · View notes

reality-detective · 3 days

Text

NCSWIC- "Nothing Can Stop What Is Coming"

What can't be stopped? TRUTH!

And there's a lot of people who aren't ready to hear the truth. Why? 👇

NOBODY ESCAPES THIS!

The battlefield is the 14" between your mind and your heart. The mind is the devil, inside of you(evil begins with a thought, lack of faith), the heart(is where love is), it's the God within you. If you get a bad feeling in your gut about anything? Listen to that because that is God trying to tell you something.

You're fighting a spiritual battle... The mind to the heart = | (the vertical part of the cross), the devil to the angel = - (the horizontal part). The gut (your 2nd brain) is closer to the heart. The † is where the battlefield is and it's what you are fighting for, to save yourself.

Why is the devil on your left shoulder? Why is the Angel on your right shoulder? 👇

A wise man’s heart turns him toward the right [which is the way of blessing], but a fool’s heart turns him toward the left [which is the way of condemnation].

Ecclesiastes 10:2

Go Within or Go Without and don't follow the herd.👇

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad and easy to travel is the path that leads the way to destruction and eternal loss, and there are many who enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow and difficult to travel is the path that leads the way to [everlasting] life, and there are few who find it."

Matthew 7: 13-14

It's Your Yin and Your Yang 👇

It's a war within to conquer your darkness so you spend more time in the light. Once you bring everything within you into proper balance ⚖️ the battle stops. 👇

The devil and the angel vanish and all that's left is the "I AM" within you.

YOU are the way to the TRUTH and the LIGHT!

No one is coming to save you.

Once you realize this, you will see and feel a whole lot more, your intuition comes to life and everything is clearly visible. 🤔

52 notes · View notes

triannel · 2 days

Note

HI!!! I adore how you write bill, an my own birthday is tomorrow an im ✨Terrified✨✨,, n was wondering ifff. You could do a sorta angst-fluff where its the readers birthday, but every single one of his birthdays has been awful. And like, now that bills here with the reader he feels like maybe he wont have to Just survive his birthday? That even with his god awful family, it might be ok. Like yeah the meds help, but it doesnt fix anything if the people youre with are why youre fucked yknow? IDK and maybe bill decides to take it upon himself to remove the readers family😋 cant be a neglected middle child w all the responsibilities of the eldest if youre an orphan/J AN I DONT MIND HOW CLOSE YOU STAY TO THIS I LOVE YOUR WRITING ANYWAYS!!

(,,,o n also the reader maybe be a grungey scene kid kinda guy? Lots of piercings, an is more feminine than his parents think he should be, especially as a trans guy, So thats smth. Love bones n bugs and shinies an is like if a dog n crow were a guy,, n supr srry if this is a bad req!! Im jus excited cus i love bill, and im also stressy out cus of my burthdayy >_<“) SO NO PRESSURE TO RESPOND ESPECIALLY IF THIS IS TOO LONG OR ANYTHIMG!!!/gen

-🌙

Hello and Happy Birthday 🌙 anon! I've managed to whip this up and I hope it gives you at least some sort of comfort for today. I really do hope you're situation gets better soon, take care of yourself and have a great day! (Also, don't worry, I never really do mind long asks.)

BirthDate

Oneshot | Bill Cipher x Reader | Fluff/Comfort?

Warnings: Mention of Death, Implied Abuse, Implied Trauma, Implied Bad Birthdays, Bill Cipher lol

Quickly stepping upstairs, you lock yourself in your bedroom, blocking all the noise emenating from downstairs. Exhaling, you drop to your bed, letting yourself relax into comfort of the soft mattress and fluffy pillows.

Only needing rest by this point, you close your eyes. Wanting nothing more than to leave this place behind.

"WHOA, DIDN'T EXPECT TO SEE YOU SO EARLY!" A voice suddenly spoke, booming loudly for you to hear.

Ah yes, there he is. You can't exactly say he's your best pal, but right this moment, you truly do feel more at ease with him than being back there.

"It's honestly been a long day so..." You shrugged for a moment before continuing, "Does it bother you?" You ask, giving a lighthearted smile.

"NOT AT ALL, I WOULDN'T BLAME ANYONE BY WANTING TO MEET YOURS TRULY," he spoke, blinking slowly in a dramatic way to show off his 'impressive looks'.

You chuckle slightly, shaking your head, "I mean, I don't think I'm exactly the one to choose to be here..." speaking your thought aloud just to perhaps tease him a little as you glance at him for a moment before slightly chuckling once more.

You never really did know how you even get to meet him to be honest, he somewhat always manages to show up in your dreams, so overtime you guessed that he might be the one approaching you...That, or it might be because of something else entirely.

For a moment, you thought you saw him become nervous for a second, but maybe it didn't happen at all as you only saw it for less than a second.

"WELL, JUST WANTED TO CHECK HOW YOU'RE DEALING WITH KNOWING YOU'RE ONE YEAR CLOSER TO YOUR DEATH," he flatly said, in a weird, eerie way. He always did love being weird so this type of behaviour wouldn't be uncommon by this point.

"Right... Well, what's the agenda for this time then? Or are you busy?" You ask, avoiding your 'birthday' in question. You'd much rather not talk about your birthday at all to be honest. Not a single one ever went well...

Adjusting his bowtie, he started to speak, "WELL..."

Snapping his fingers, your surroundings completely change.

The rest of your 'dream' went on a relatively good note. Having a cup of tea, playing chess, you both did the usual activities you both would do when meeting in your subconscious mind. But the only thing is that, he seemed to be more...well a bit more charming and noticeably, but only slightly more open to your suggestions on what else to spend time on.

He'd usually take the wheel and drag you through any activity he wants, but this time though, this time he was a bit more...considerate.

Now playing a board game with him, you take the dice and roll it. Getting one, Bill chuckles slightly at your misfortune for a second before taking the dice from you.

He might be treating you like this because it's your birthday, but you'd doubt it... Well at least for now-

"EY, IT'S YOUR TURN TOOTS," he snapped his finger a few times in front of your face.

Chuckling, you mutter an apology before taking the dice. Rolling it in your hands, you then let it go. As the dice lands on the floor, it lands on a six, letting you be the winner for the match.

"Yess, I won!" You raise your arms, smiling back at him.

"CHECK AGAIN." Bill spoke, pointing at your piece. Looking down at the board, you see a newly added tile in front of your piece, moving the finish line out of reach. You raise your eyebrow, giving him the side eye.

"WHAT? I DON'T MAKE THE RULES," he raised his shoulders, smiling mischievously with his eye.

Shaking your head, you chuckled at his silly banter while giving him the dice for his turn.

It's unexpected but, this dorito triangle man truly has made a significance on making your birthday much more bearable. Be it his choice to do it or not, you're honestly just glad to at least have some semblance of joy sprout on this day.

I haven't been able to post for a week because unfortunately I became rlly busy at the moment and it isn't helping that I do tend to procrastinate at times. I'll post more regularly later, but for now at least, I'll post this here. Once again, happy birthday 🌙 anon!

#bill says happy birthday through actions/ acts of services #bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls bill #gravity falls bill cipher #bill #bill cipher gravity falls #bill gravity falls #bill the triangle guy #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls x reader #bill x you #bill x reader #x you #x reader #fluff #comfort #bill cipher imagines #request

43 notes · View notes

peachyfnaf · 1 day

Note

I'm sorry but "MY BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS WITH A DISORDER<3" really made my day and I needed you to know

🤣🤣🤣

I can't believe Nexus is bullying peepaw war criminal.

Do you think Nexus is going to be stopped by big bro Sun or do you think the lil guy is going beyond the point of no return?

(Please talk about baby cringe Lord Nexus, I want to hear about your blorbo 🙏)

That's because Nexus IS my beautiful princess with a disorder, I'll have you know <3 they're diseased but it's okay I can give them their tetanus and flu shots and it'll all be better I GOT THIS

But. ahem, okay, blorbo yapping time. I'm not even gonna say "I'll try to keep this short" because I know it wont end up that way HAHAHAHAHA

"Do you think Nexus is going to be stopped by big bro Sun or do you think the lil guy is going beyond the point of no return?"

I... have absolutely no idea!!!1! (and also it took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize peepaw war criminal was Ruin KJDFHSDF)

The most frustrating thing about canon Nexus is how his morals, motivations, and goals seem to see-saw back and forth all the time. at first, he became how he is now due to Solar's death. he spiraled in his grief, identity-issues, and abandonment. but... now his motivation is to become an all powerful god??? while it's most likely that NSP is at play and affecting his thought process, it's... well, it's really hard to take him seriously as a villain because of it, lol. for an audience to enjoy, and even sympathize in some cases, with a villain, their goals and motivations have to be concrete. they have to be relatable, or at least understandable, but Nexus' whole thing is... not, Imho. and I know I'm not the only person who feels this way!!!

I see a lot of people calling Nexus "cringe", and the thing is, when it comes to canon Nexus, they're not really... wrong??? The worst thing Nexus has done so far is make Old Moon see his past victims, which is fucked up of him to do, but.. so far, that's kind of it??? other than that, his "villainy" consists of saying empty threats and cheesy evil one-liners. hell, he was supposed to kidnap Sun yesterday but instead spent the whole episode yapping and venting to him, chasing Sun around in the worlds darkest game of tag before getting some lead right in the face dkfjhsdfsd

Also, notice how he's only targeted Old Moon when it comes to actual physical violence? not Lunar, Earth, Solar, or Sun, but Old Moon? yeah, I did too. we already know that Nexus does everything because he's lashing out, but as of rn the only target he's gotten his hands on physically being O.M...? well. I think it says a lot. cause' yeah, he sure as shit scared the life out of the other Celestials, but he's never put his hands on them!! the only other one of them he harmed physically was Earth- and not only was he not aiming for her, she was just in the way- he felt immediate regret for his actions once in space, and has yet to even see Earth ever since that day.

So, I really have no idea if he's going to be "redeemed" or not. one second he's showing signs he might be, and the next he's falling further down the "pretty badly written villain" rabbit-hole. if he does get something akin to a redemption arc, he'll prolly mostly be accepted in the eyes of the viewers, considering a lot of peeps sympathize or at least understand where he's coming from, but I seriously doubt the other Celestials would take him back. the only one's who might see him as family/a close friend again are Sun and Solar, but even then, nothing would ever be the same.

I hope he gets redeemed, or at least freed from the hold Dark Sun has on him and he's able to live his own life, I really do. at his core, Nexus is a good person. a good person who was crushed under the weight of the shadow of the man he was born under. and we know this because he used to be New Moon. sweet, dorky New Moon.

New Moon, who made inventions like sentient knives and whoopee cushions. New Moon, who had matching My Little Pony stickers with his best friend. New Moon, who bought a whole ass island-luxury-house for Sun because he wanted to make him feel better and give him the proper space to heal. and New Moon- the poor freshly-baked A.I who gave his all to make sure he could do everything that Old Moon could, but it just wasn't enough. he tried and tried and tried, but it wasn't enough.

So yeah, idk if he's getting one in canon, but to me, he more than deserves a good ending, for the life he was given. let him be at peace.

#why do i always end my essays off the same way. i like using the writing technique of repetition too much KJDSFHDS #but anyways yeah. normally whenever i get something in my inbox i take my time answering it but whenever its nexus related you can actually #hear my neck crack from how hard i whip it around to look at my screen HAHAHAHHH #asks tag #the sun and moon show #tsams #sun and moon show #sams #tsams nexus #the sun and moon show nexus #new moon/nexus (tsbs)#yapping about smtn tag #idk if this needs a seasoned/salty tag?? someone tell me if they'd like it lol

28 notes · View notes

thewisaaaaad · 2 days

Text

AWWW FUCK

In my sleep deprived state, I have created YET ANOTHER AU by smashing together several ideas in my head, along with being inspired by @kamodofilez bells of the dammed au. Sorry for pinging you, but CREDIT IS DUE.

When am I going to run out of these oh lamb

Anyways here's the au. I call it the Regretful Hunter AU, no idea if i am going to continue with this.

In this AU, neither the lamb nor Narinder really wanted to fight.

As soon as Narinder heard the new prophecy through Ratau, he knew exactly what would happen.

Five becomes nothing? He wasn't stupid. He was going to fall too, just like all his siblings.

Good. It was what he deserved. It was what he wanted.

Narinder did the fight because he was actually tired of being the god of death, saw that the lamb was way better at being god than any of his siblings were, and wanted to pass the mantle. Of course, due to pride and family trauma, they couldn't just hand it over, so he tried to goad the lamb into killing him. He... doesn't really consider how Aym and Baal would feel about it. He forgot they were people, honestly, until it was too late to care.

The lamb, meanwhile, was totally chill with dying. They felt that they were OK at playing leader, but was ready to hand over the reins to the god that gave them the opportunity to take revenge for their people.

They were fully ready to let go, and see their family again in the afterlife. After all that had happened, they were just. So. Tired.

However, fate has ways of getting what it wants- including puppeting its victims. The lamb was conscious the whole time as they were forced to fight the person that gave them everything they had ever wanted and slay his guardians. They were just glad that they didn't have to kill him.

Narinder was less than pleased with the mercy. When the guilt of what he had done set in, he ran away from the cult before the lamb could explain what happened.

He planned on going out, finding a nice cliff with some sharp rocks at the bottom, and ending it once and for all.

Turns out, ending your life by your own hands is a lot harder than he thought. It can be pretty scary, standing at the edge.

He blames his mortality, of course.

Lamb, meanwhile, goes into a depression induced stupor, the young god just going through the motions of running a cult. ???'s arrival makes it a little easier, by giving them a goal to work towards, but they never stop hoping to find Narinder again. They know hes not dead yet.

They would feel it.

Narinder continues to survive in the forest, hunting critters using plumbata, or throwing arrows, made from stolen arrows. He goes around, surviving while cursing his cowardice, until one day he wanders through Silkcradle, looking for spiders to hunt.

Instead, he finds a panda and a skunk in mortal danger. Before, he would have let them die, for obviously if they had wanted to live then they would not have come here, doubly so for the panda who could have just never come to the lands of the old faith at all.

But now? Now he understands the fear of the end. How it can creep up on you without knowledge of its presence, how a foolish decision can seem like the best one to make in the moment.

So he saves them. They, of course, ask for his name.

He does not give it. Instead, he gives them the location of paradise, where they will be safe. When asked why he does not go there himself, he answers that "I had lost my right to that place long ago."

When Jalala and Rinor arrive at the lambs cult, they tell the lamb of the kind stranger who saved them, the cat with three red eyes.

The lamb gets excited. He's still out there. And he wishes he could be here.

They just have to talk to him.

#i really don't know what i'm doing #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl jalala #cotl rinor

41 notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 2 days

Text

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed.

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world.

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away.

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days.

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number. You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package.

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home.

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.”

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze.

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them.

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you.

"My eyes are up here hermosa."

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…”

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met.

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you.

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect.

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred.

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips.

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled.

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-”

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change.

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert.

#pato o'ward #pato o'ward x reader #pato o'ward x you #pato o'ward fanfic #pato o'ward imagine #pato o'ward fanfiction #pato o'ward one shot #indycar rpf #jac writes

22 notes · View notes

cephydeluxe · 18 hours

Text

most Simeon/MC fics r kyute as hell, but a lot of them focus simeon's reason for "falling" (aka: disobeying father's rule of never extending a human's life by stealing the ring of light) as solely because he loves mc,

and like..... that's ok 😐 and all, but I feel like it kinda narrows simeon's character a bit ((but the following thoughts below r my interpretation so take this more as appreciation than a criticism of any other interpretations of simeon))

Simeon, regardless of whether or not it's reciprocated, still feels brotherly love for the brothers. They were once his brothers, and when it came time to wage war against them in the name of their Father, he refused to fight them and was demoted.

His love for his family made him refuse God's orders because the idea of harming his family was worse than the disapproval of God.

"ok well what does this have 2 do w the ring of light" shut up ill get 2 that >:(

I'm not gonna recap much cause my phone's at like 8% idgaf srry 😒. The only important parts is that mc's existence and pacts w the brothers is highly unstable and causing chaos in the three realms, and the only ways to fix it are to either kill lucifer with the night dagger, or to obtain the ring of light from the celestial realm.

So it's either trade lucifer's life for mc's, or steal the ring from micheal. The ring is immediately ruled out because demons can't enter the celestial realm, and it would probably (most definitely) cause a political shitstorm if a demon did steal it.

So the only option left is to kill lucifer, and right as mc is given the choice of killing him or themself, here comes Simeon, fresh from the celestial realm with the stolen ring of light in tow

Now, most fics tend to depict these events as simeon risking his status as archangel (an already unstable position given his refusal to fight during the war) as a huge romantic sacrifice because of his love for mc.

And that's,, cute ig but there is so many more things going on in that scene (2 me at least, solmare isn't really known 4 their writing 🫢)

Simeon's sacrifice in stealing the ring, in potentially incurring the wrath of God, in committing the same sin Lilith did to be disowned and even killed by their shared Father, and in risking his home he was raised and lived in for his entire life,

was both for his family that he has missed for thousands of years and for the person who healed them when he himself was unable to.

The TSL series (written by Simeon before the exchange program) are a retelling of the events between the avatars and mc. Even after they are cast out of heaven for treason and simeon is demoted for not wanting to hurt them, he still cares about them and wants the best for them, writing stories about them and their "Henry".

Even if the brothers treat him coldly and distantly, he still cares about them deeply enough that the prospect of killing lucifer? Their eldest brother?

The one who constantly does everything in his power to keep the rest of his family safe after the death of his sister?

The one who traded his loyalty to the demon prince after just landing after being thrown out of his home?

It's completely unthinkable to Simeon.

So that just leaves MC, then. The reincarnation of Lilith and the friend of all seven brothers, even after being violently killed by one of them,

(belphie, cough cough)

Still accepts all of them and keeps them together, and at this point in the story, is practically welcomed as a fixture in their messy yet tight-knit family.

For MC to sacrifice themself for the brothers would be to break them, to leave another unfillable void in their hearts like Lilith did so many years ago. The moment things would return to normal and Lucifer regained his memories would be devastating, knowing that yet again he failed to keep his family safe and whole.

Grief for MC's death would be felt far and wide, Simeon included.

Both outcomes of using the night dagger are unthinkable to Simeon, both causing unimaginable grief for everyone.

So the ring of light is all that remains.

It's a no-brainer, really.

Angels aren't restricted from the celestial realm, and if the ring is stolen by an angel, it has a way less likely chance of falling back on the devildom, on the fragile peace him and many others have worked so hard to facilitate between the three realms.

So what if the consequences will primarily fall upon Simeon alone, it matters little to the certain disaster either outcomes of wielding the night dagger will bring. Both Lucifer and MC will be unharmed, and the chaos will end.

But could you imagine the feelings he must have felt?

In the chamber where the ring of light is kept, having just snuck past Micheal, a twist in his gut from breaking the most basics of holy disciplines he has spent his entire life embodying, just staring at the ring of light in its container, the last momento of a father's love for his favorite child before disowning him.

It's a warning, a sign that tells Simeon that he will be next to fall if he takes this ring.

He takes it anyway, throwing his loyalty to God away if it means saving Lucifer, saving his family, saving the peace they've obtained without him.

A penance, maybe, for his inaction in the war, when perhaps one seraphim could've made a difference, if not win the war, then at least could've spared Lilith's life.

Can you imagine how he must have felt, standing in front of MC with the ring in his hands?

Lilith's sin that started the war wasn't just that she fell in love with a human, it was when she extended the life of her lover because of it. A clear defiance of Father's will, to negate written fate for the sake of her selfish love was what got her killed.

And here Simeon stands, staring into the eyes of her reincarnation as he offers them the ring that will save them, extend their life, and doom Simeon to walk the same path their angelic ancestor died on.

The ring is a promise, of the disownment that Simeon faces, of the pain he will endure in defying God's word as an angel (whose sole objective, down to the very fabric of his being, to the very purpose of his creation, is to embody and enforce), of the corruption of his very soul that paints his ivory feathers black.

It's also a promise of devotion, of commitment to this deadly sin, this selfless sacrifice, to the human he's fallen in love with, and to the family he longs to be close with again.

It's a vow, for all the atrocities he's willing to commit for the sake of protecting those he cherishes above all else.

It's a vow, for the deeply rooted love for the human, one who's very existence is the result of the tragic end of the angel who came before him and paved the doomed path he now walks.

Like Oroboros eating its tail, Simeon's love for the demon brothers and MC is never-ending and inevitable.

When asked, he says he wishes he could've fought with the brothers in the war, so he could "stay the same as them" and that the war weighed heavily on his mind from time to time.

Ever since he watched them be cast down to hell, he was destined to fall with them someday, too.

(christ, this got so out of hand, this is probably a huge mess to read, srry I'm not a writer or a media analyst, this is just ramblings of someone who's got some really dramatic art to make.) simeon 4ever bby <3

(also I could make a separate post from solomon's pov where he's willing to sacrifice a pact with lucifer, something he's worked for years for a chance, just to save MC, but im sleepy goodnight)

(most of this post was written while I was listening to elden ring ost, thank u bayle the dread for making this post way more dramatic than it needed to be)

#this probaby counts more as fanfic then an opinion #simeon my beloved #this all started cause i had the idea of the ring of light being like a metaphorical engagement ring between mc and simeon 😭💔💔#then i looked up some wedding vows for inspo #and the line “to love and to cherish you 'till death do us part under the eyes of God” really set me off #i couldnt care less about religion #but like the second its used in a tragic romance like this im losing my fucking mind #ok love and peace 2 everyone that reads this nighty night 🌙 😴#obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me nightbringer #om! simeon #om! solomon #om! lucifer #obey me shall we date #cephy talks #simeon x mc

20 notes · View notes

lovendermist · 2 days

Note

You know how Hange is sometimes called Hans? I feel like reader finds it attractive and uses Hans to call Hange instead of the usual coupley ones

Can i request scenarios with this idea? I find it so adorable

Darling, what did you just call me?

Come again?

Type: Scenarios, fluff, Hange being called Hans

WC: 1,696

Pairing: Hange (or dare I say Hans) x Reader

A/N: Hnggg this is so cute. Thank you so much for requesting this! Also, I wrote this down (like, pen and paper) during my vacant time in college, which I thought was really interesting because I didn't think I would actually make something I'm happy with considering how sleepy I am during those vacants! I'm kind of proud of myself for that. Only the part by the end is the one written on google docs, and of course I edited some of the sentences online, but still! Hope you enjoy!

hange masterlist

Hange being called Hans :)

It took you a while to realize that Hange tried their very best not to make it as obvious that most of your actions and words had such effects on them, driving them wild with desire and with love.

It always starts in the smallest of things. A slightly different style in clothing or even a different earring, but of course, Hange never fails to shower you with all the affection they can give you. They just keep it at a certain level as to not overwhelm you, because god knows you won't ever be able to leave the room if Hange was in the mood to show you just how much they love you, how much the slightest change in appearance is enough to make them swoon and be all overprotective.

But it doesn't end there. What you've noticed is that what seemingly affects them the most is when you call them. Whether it's verbal or by gesture, you name it. Once, you stood patiently by the doorway, calling Hange over once their meeting was done, and you swear, you could almost see them squirm as they went to you, the glint in their eyes betraying their nonchalant stride.

The moniker "Squad Leader" and simply their own name "Hange" would make them smile. Or even if their lips didn't feel like returning your smile, it would be their eyes doing it rather sweetly back at you. Hange swears that the way you say their name is a sedative of its own, by the way the moment your voice reaches their ears, their shoulders loose a bit of the tension in them, their eyes soften, their entire demeanor turning gentle. Hange endlessly loves the sound of their own name rolling from your tongue. They don't say it out loud, but Hange wishes there were more excuses just for you to say it.

"Hanji", you called them one time, a slip of the tongue, but Hange -- or should we say Hanji, loved it. You suppose it's just the cost of having such a unique name, and you tease them about having so many names, which they giggle at. Hange especially loves how the "ji" part sounded; it was a little fast and desperate, they said. It always caught them off guard whenever anyone but you said their name like that. It was a rare pronunciation to hear from you, but god did they love it, and they'll never ever complain.

"Hans" finally slipped out one day, and neither of you expected it. Your tongue had messed up between saying their name and saying something else entirely, hence the amalgamation of such a name. Though weirdly enough, you didn't dislike the sound, and neither did Hange. And just as odd was how Hange immediately knew you were calling for them. They really do have a lot of names, don't they?

"Sorry," You shake your head with a smile at your own mistake, but it’s almost like your mind scrambles just as quickly to find another excuse to say the rather attractive nickname once more. "I meant Hange. Can you get me the spice over there please?"

Hange tilts their head to the side cutely, taken aback by the slip-up.

"No, no" They chuckle, keeping the spice you were looking for in their hand, eyes squinting rather charmingly. "Say it again."

"What?" You return their playful and amused smile with one of your own. You definitely heard them loud and clear, but it was bewildering how Hange was offering you the chance to say the name again just like that.

"You know what." Hange runs their free hand by your cheek, gliding their thumb up and down before finally settling by your chin, "My name, how you just said it." Hange squeezes your chin gently twice, smiling down at you.

You chuckle, turning soft at the gentle gesture before complying with their request, "Hans. The spice, please?" It's only been the second time, but the way it feels coming out of your mouth feels so natural and familiar already. Hange finally sets the spice by the counter beside you.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" You grow disappointed by the way Hange lets go of your chin as they reply, but your smile doesn't waver.

"Hans." You say it again quietly. You find yourself growing fond of the new name, and so was Hange. Or should we say, Hans? "Do people call you that often?"

Hange ponders your question for a moment, "Hmmm. Maybe once or twice, but it's the first time I've heard it again. And I have to say, it was definitely better to hear it from you, even if it was accidental."

You lick your lips, considering the option of making it a new pet name for Hange. You certainly liked the sound of it, and if Hange's not averse to being called this name, then why not?

"Looks like your tongue has a mind of its own, making that name without even knowing people called me that before," Leaning against the counter, Hange's eyes glint as they look at you, "It's quite unique, isn't it?"

"It is,” You say to yourself more than to Hange, and you can see them perk up at the mention of their name again, “Hans, huh…"

You were certainly going to use this as Hange's new nickname.

One night, Hange was being particularly stubborn and refusing to leave their work, using your very own desk and spending more time with their work and research than with you, the very opposite from what you two intended to do in the few days that they had a break. Hange's brows furrowed, eyes glued to the pages in front of them, a hand up their messy hair as they try to make sense of whatever's on the pages. Your patience was thinning, and yet all you could do was watch and call for them at random intervals.

"Hange." You called out, leaning against the doorway of your own place and watching as your own partner worked themselves away in the night.

"Just a few more pages, darling."

"You said the same thing like 3 pages ago."

"Give me some more time, alright?" Hange's tone remains stern, their eyes never leave the paper in front of them, and that's all it takes for you to walk over and press your hands firmly on the desk. Yet even with your presence in front of them, Hange's eyes are infuriatingly glued to their work.

"Hans." You called out at last, and to hear Hange's pen drop felt like a victory on its own. That, and the fact that they finally looked you in the eyes after what seemed like hours was enough for you to claim your silent success.

You smirk at their reaction, knowing very well how much of a hold that nickname has on both of you. Hange leans back on the chair after noticing your smug expression.

"You're unfair, you know that?"

"Not as unfair as you, working away like that and ignoring me completely." You walk over behind them, arms wrapped around and face snuggled deep in the crook of their neck, "Come on, snuggle with me in bed, Hans."

"You know, I don't know why, but..." Hange sighs deeply, lost in thought, yet a hand caresses your arm regardless, "That name has such an effect on me. I hate it."

"What name, Hans?" You start kissing the soft skin of their neck, to which Hange shivers at.

"That. Exactly that." Hange sighs yet again before finally standing up, twisting their body to face yours, hand lingering by your arm, "You're having way too much fun with that nickname of mine, aren't you darling?"

"Well, I mean," You let go of them, shoulders gesturing a shrug, "It's kind of attractive."

"You know," Hange says again, grabbing your hand and leading you slowly to your bedroom, "One of these days, I'm going to make you say that in bed–"

"Hange!"

"Oh?" A chuckle escapes Hange’s lips, noticing the switch up, "Why the sudden change of names, hm?"

"You’re so mean to me."

"Maybe. But you make it so fun to tease you."

Soon you settle down in your bed, but not quite done in saying the name once more, almost like a mantra in itself.

"Hans," You whine, reaching out to Hange who was still looking down at you with amusement in their eyes as you lay comfortably on the bed. Hange soon joins you in bed chuckling at your sleepy demeanor.

"Better be careful and not say that too much in public." A kiss was pressed down your forehead, "It'll ruin the magic, hm?"

“I know, I know,” You snuggle closer to Hange, “It’s a… hot nickname, okay? Get used to it.”

And Hange does, as the days drag on. You’ve both taken a liking to the nickname, and Hange couldn’t be more happy to hear it being said almost every single day. They don’t tire of hearing it even after being used as a last resort when they’re feeling particularly stubborn and impossible to deal with. In fact, they find it endearing. Endearing for the reason that you’ve got them wrapped around your little finger and they can’t quite bring themselves to let go.

They don't dislike the fact that ‘Hans’ is what you usually call them instead of the usual, couple pet names either. They even think it’s more special that way, because you both know it’s just for them. You use it sparsely

You use it when you’re feeling needy, to which Hange will always melt at.

You use it when you’re reunited after losing them in the aisles of the grocery store, to which you’re unaware that Hange strays away from you intentionally just to hear you say that name again.

You use it when you’re sleepy and dazed and can’t be bothered to say their whole name (even if it’s just two syllables). Hange doesn’t mind.

But sleep in peace with the knowledge that whatever name you call them, just know Hans will be running straight into your arms at the end of every day.

28 notes · View notes