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r7leee · 1 month ago

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ever thought of Dominic x famousgf!reader doing it backstage on his concert but the mic accidentally still being on so everyone could hear..?

talk like an angel | d.f.

oh GOD this one wins. this was actually so fun to write, hope this lives up to expectations <33

pairing: dominic fike x fem!famous!reader

summary: after an exhausting show, all dom wants to do is lay down with you. well, maybe more than lay down…

warnings: cursing, smut (duh), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT PLEASE), embarrassment ig?? also be warned it’s a very long buildup i apologize 😭😭🙏🏻

word count: 4,580 (i am so sorry.)

@saf-the-great

IT WASN’T SUPPOSED to happen. the media wouldn’t be harassing your privacy, fans wouldn’t be repetitively posting on socials, you wouldn’t be a disappointment to your label if it all wasn’t for some stupid mistake.

arguably, it could’ve been prevented if dominic wasn’t a complete star-stricken mess over you, but you wouldn’t ever wish that. not when he’d coax those pretty noises out you like witchcraft.

which was what he did that night.

between the two of you, it was pretty safe to say you could handle tour. you were both relatively known artists who’d been in the industry for a few years. hopping on a bus and seeing the world for a few months wasn’t hard.

the thing that made it difficult this time was the relationship. it wasn’t an issue for dominic in the past, his tours being relatively small, meaning the homesickness for his past lovers was minuscule.

but, with his new rise to fame, larger venues were booked with more stops. and for some reason, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go that whole time without seeing you at least once. it scared him.

see, you never had this issue, as you’d been between relationships during tours. this would be new to both of you.

you promised to keep in touch as much as possible, daily updates on life back in the city and how the latest show went. you told each other it could work.

and it did. for a while, at least. you honestly expected it to happen sooner.

it was about four weeks in when you didn’t know much longer you could take it. his side of the bed no longer smelled like him. all the messes he made in your apartment were cleaned. his collection, however sparse, of his items on the bathroom counter were gone. you missed it.

he missed it too. every morning, he would wake up, half expecting your figure to be lying next to him in a half-awake haze, until he realized all that was there was a pillow he’d been grabbing on to.

you especially knew it was time when he started asking for photos. videos. whatever he could get his hands on (literally).

dominic and you had a very…honest relationship. whatever the two of you wanted, you promised to say it. so, when you found the courage to speak to him about taking photos, he wasn’t one to deny.

he found himself enjoying it after a while, reaching over in the middle of his dick practically splitting you in two to grab his phone and take a video of the rapid in and out and how your tits bounced.

so, there was no shortage of photos and videos on either of your phones. which is why it surprised you when the message came down on your screen at a particularly late time at night.

“babyy ik it’s late but i miss your 🍒”

“can i see 😩”

of course, you had no opposition to it: it took you literally two seconds to just lift up your shirt. but, it made you think. he’d never done this before, not in the 8 months you’d been dating. that had to mean a lot.

it was only two days after you decided it was time. you called your manager and told her you were booking the soonest flight to cincinnati. she replied with a dissatisfied tone and a whiny “are you sure?”, but she got over it after your prominent insistence.

you packed about two weeks worth of outfits, your makeup, skincare, and other essentials, before promptly leaving for ohio.

one day later, and you were standing in the cincinnati airport with zero direction of the world around you. you wore a hat and sunglasses as you hunched awkwardly in a corner, texting reed, dominic’s manager.

he seemed surprised you flew all the way there, which you found funny. what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t?

reed gave you the venue he’d be playing that night, promising he’d alert the staff you could get in for free. he also offered to hook you up with a hotel for the night, compliments of him.

you smiled at the courtesy, but told him it wasn’t necessary and that you already booked one before leaving. his reply made you raise an eyebrow.

“good. you’re gonna want one.”

the indication of what that meant was unclear, but you just shrugged. maybe he was simply suggesting the bus wouldn’t be a comfortable place to spend the night.

after everything was arranged, you ended the conversation and stepped out into the summer air. you flagged down the nearest cab and directed it to your hotel.

the whole day, you decided to keep the knowledge of you being in the city to yourself. when dominic texted, you acted like you were at home and he was none the wiser. you found it funny, even if he had no way of knowing.

downtown ohio wasn’t really on your bucket list of places to visit, so you mostly spent the day to yourself. that was until 5:00 pm rolled around.

you’d always cared about your appearance; you wouldn’t be caught dead with a single hair out of place, a fear of the paparazzi making you susceptible to beauty trends. but this wasn’t the fear you normally felt. you just wanted to look pretty for dom.

you weren’t sure why you were worrying. your boyfriend usually didn’t give two shits how you looked; hell, he’d fucked you in the shower with a shower cap on. but, this was extra special. you knew he needed attention, and you wanted to deliver.

it took you an hour to get ready. your hair was done neatly in a style you knew he liked, your makeup creaseless and effortlessly blended (but catered to run if the events called for it), and your outfit was skimpy, but popped enough to be considered chic. you were perfect.

you left an hour early for the show. hiding your face with its usual camera disguise, you called an uber to the venue. as instructed by reed, once you were dropped off, you made your way to the back.

when you pulled up, you could see a long line of people, all fans of your boyfriend. it sometimes shocked you how many people actually listened. it was crazy to know it wasn’t just you sometimes.

the sound of your heels clicked as you walked around to the back. you were sure somebody would stop you, some worker would tell you the area was employees only and you’d have to plead your case.

but, to your surprise, there was nothing: only a dumpster, a semi truck, and a creepy looking alley. you weren’t sure which option was better.

you found yourself sitting on a staircase leading to the back, hoping the dirt wouldn’t ruin your dress. you pulled the material taught to your skin as the sun started to set, causing the air to cool. when was he gonna be out here?

it wasn’t quick, but after a while, a sound from the door behind you emitted. it made you jump, but you immediately calmed down when you saw reed’s tall figure in the doorway.

you gave him a small smile as you stood up, now pulling your dress down. “what’s good?” he asked with a smile, pulling you in for a quick hug. you and reed had gotten to know each other ever since dom and you had been together, and the relationship you had was something in its own category. he looked out for you.

you replied back with a simple, “not much. my boyfriend’s doing all the fun stuff.” you stepped inside as reed shut the door. the area was small, meaning you could hear the chaos of the backstage area outside pretty clearly.

“speaking of,” he started, walking up to stand beside you, “he’s in his dressing room right now if you wanna see him.” he looked you up and down. “sure he’d be happy to see you.”

even just thinking about him made your cheeks flush. “ya, where is that?”

he walked ahead of you, giving you a “come here” motion. he popped open the door, revealing the commotion outside. “i’ll show you.”

you carefully walked out of the door and into the chaos that was the backstage. crew members were running around, making sure the spotlights were working, the band’s instruments set up properly, the mic being adjusted at the right volume.

it’d been a year or two since this chaos was centered around you. and you kind of missed it. but this wasn’t about you. you snapped out of your daydream, following reed, who was now a few steps ahead of you.

a small walk later, and you arrived at a wooden door with the word “dominic” lazily taped on. he gave you a smirk as he tapped on the door. a distinct “what?” came from the other side of the door. his voice was a bit irritated, similar in tone to when you two would be caught by paparazzi.

“yo,” reed called out, opening the door without an invitation. he looked at you one more time. “he’s all yours,” he whispered before walking away, giving you a small salute.

your heart beat fast as you opened the door fully. there he was. messy brown curls and pretty brown eyes angled perfectly to meet yours.

it didn’t take him more than a second to register the fact you were here. right in front of him. his eyes widened, staring like that for a second before he stood up, clumsily, like he couldn’t believe he wouldn’t do it in the first place.

“baby.” that was all he said at first, walking up to cup his hands on your cheeks. you were sure he could feel the heat there.

“hi.” the word made him laugh softly, before immediately pulling you close to his body.

“baby, oh my god. how are you?” his voice was high, in that pitch only you got to hear.

“fine,” you responded, teeth full on display in a wide smile. he kept laughing and shaking his head, not fully grasping onto the fact yet.

he moved his hands to your waist in a simple action before whispering, “come here.” next thing you know, his lips were on yours. chapped and dry and somehow still so perfect. you missed this.

but, much to both your dismay, there wasn’t much time to be catching up. dominic was to be on stage in an hour, and he still needed to get his mic pack on and any final touches.

you still followed him, though, your manicured hand slotting in his. you filled each other in on your lives, how the bus had been and how la was still as hot as ever.

the chatter couldn’t have lasted longer, you thought, as you prepared to watch your boyfriend go on stage. you stood behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. “you’re gonna do great,” you whispered in his ear. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, praise did him wonders sometimes.

he laughed softly, causing you to feel his muscles rise and fall. “ya, i know i will,” he replied, turning around.

“ya, ya. i shouldn’t be supplying your ego,” you teased. he rolled his eyes, both of you knowing he barely had one. suddenly, a voice from beside you caught you off guard.

“dom, you’re up in two,” a crew member told him. you groaned, not wanting him to go.

dominic nodded, replying with a signature, “thanks, man.” the crew member nodded, then ran back to whatever he was doing. dom sighed, turning back to you. “i’ll be back soon enough.”

“i know.” you were staring at the ground before looking back up at him. one last kiss later and a large shriek of the crowd, and he was on stage.

there was something about dominic’s concerts you always loved, and it wasn’t just because he was your boyfriend. there was something so special seeing him perform these songs for people other than you. seeing how his silly little lyrics brought him to a venue filled with intent fans.

at some point, dominic had stopped to take a break. he leaned against the mic, staring out to the crowd. to his success. he stood with a smile, before speaking.

“i know i’ve been thanking y’all for comin’ out tonight…but i also wanna thank someone very special.” his head turned to yours, and when his eyes met yours, you swore it was like the first time you met all over again.

“wanna thank my girl in the wings here.” the crowd cheered, the hardcore fans knowing exactly who you were. some tried to move their position to spot you. if you weren’t so hooked up with your boyfriend, you’d be a little mad.

but all you could focus on was his eyes. his smile. how he was so genuine. he seemed to feel the same way too, ducking his head slightly. “wanna dedicate this next one to her.”

you weren’t sure what to expect when the opening chords of the song started. but, a few seconds later, you recognized the song to be what kinda woman. it was one of your favorites, one he often played while you were falling asleep, resting your head on his shoulder.

during the song, he stole a few peaks at you, singing different verses that held heavy meaning. it made your heart clench.

once it was over, a big smile overtook his face, his gaze still laying upon you. he brought the mic up to his face and announced a simple, “i love you,” before continuing on with the rest of the set.

at the end of the show, you were eagerly waiting backstage. what was going to happen was beyond you, either a tired or a worked up dom ready to approach.

the second dominic got off stage and managed to make his way through the huge crowd of crew, he ran to you. you smiled, running into his arms. he was sweaty and panting but you didn’t care.

“you did so good,” you told him. he smiled at the praise before pulling your head out of his shoulder to kiss you. it was a perfect mix of gentle and passionate.

“thanks,” he replied after pulling away.

naturally, dominic wanted to get cooled down after the show. so, you both headed to his dressing room. he immediately sprawled out on the couch in an exaggerated form, all of his limbs spread out.

you felt the need to do something, so you offered to grab him a water bottle. he replied with a tired, lifeless, “yes, please,” which made you laugh.

you popped out of the room for a couple seconds before grabbing one in a nearby cooler. you walked back to the room, spotting dom still in the same posture. his eyes moved to look at you, your location making it to where he had to tilt his head back. it almost kind of looked like-

“you good?”

two words that made you snap out of your thoughts. god, what were you doing?

with a curt nod and a dry throat, you replied with a simple “ya.” it made his eyebrows crease, the way it sounded so forced.

after a few more seconds of observing his features, you handed him the water. his fingers grazed against yours and you swore your whole body was on fire. now was not the time.

he thanked you while you found a seat on the other side of the room. you couldn’t be feeling like this, but at the same time, you couldn’t look away.

you wouldn’t dare redirect your gaze as his fingers encased the lid and unscrewed it. as he put the bottle to his lips, you could only feel your cheeks getting hotter. your thighs clenching together.

you didn’t even realize you were staring until he warned you, voice slightly raspy from the show minutes ago. “baby? babe, you good?”

your eyes snapped up, similar to a hollywood movie where a character was caught daydreaming. “hm? ya. ‘m good.” your lips suddenly felt dry, your tongue jolting out to lick them.

and for some reason, with some unbeknownst instincts, he knew what was happening. he knew the ache between your thighs from all the nights spent taking care of yourself and he knew damn well he could help.

he also knew he shouldn’t. be he wanted to. and sometimes that was all that mattered.

dominic beckoned you closer, the energy in him minimal. right now, he was saving it all for you.

you crept forward until you were hovering over him. his sweat dripped face and shirt already discarded on the floor weren’t doing you favors right now. “come here.” he patted the area right next to him on the couch.

you hesitated, wondering what would happen. he patted again, louder. “seriously, sit.” you didn’t need to be told again.

the couch shifted under your weight as dominic sat up. your faces were mere inches away from each other now. there were no words exchanged. all that happened was a press of lips to another.

kissing was always something dom was good at. he could sense how to navigate it, when to pull away, when to trail down. and that shone its light now.

the kiss was soft at first. you needed to make up for all the small kisses, after all. all the kisses before rushing out the door, all the kisses of getting home, all the kisses in the mornings…

but that quickly faded. the hunger you both inevitably felt was taking over. it was only natural after being so far apart.

you could barely even feel it, too caught up in the moment, but your back was pushed to lay flat against the couch. when you pulled away, only for more obscene activities, there was a string of saliva dangling between you two. how stereotypical.

dom paid no mind, wiping his mouth with a tattooed hand. his position over you was one you’d longed for months to come. what you missed more, though, were his hands.

they trailed from the back of your head, nestled in your hair, to down your back. his nimble fingers gripped the zipper of your dress with practiced precision.

for a second, he looked at you so sweet and sincere. anyone who doubted him as a nice person was wrong. they just weren’t looking hard enough.

but, the second your head nodded in compliance, it was gone. it took him mere seconds to get the dress off and throw it across the floor, landing on some nearby chair.

you felt under his mercy but at the same time, you almost liked being picked apart like this. you liked how his hands knew just how to get your bra off, liked how he was so fast, so precise.

“god, i missed these.” his breath was raspy as your tits were freed from the confines of the lace. if he were in a calmer mood, he’d likely make a joke about “his girls,” maybe give them a small slap to make you laugh. but he wasn’t exactly in a laughing mood right now.

he slid down ever so slightly, immediately taking a bud into his mouth. it elicited a gasp from you. sure, you’d roll a nipple between your fingers to get you going, but it was nothing like this.

the combined slick of his saliva and slight coolness made you flush bright red. you pawed at the couch behind you as he bobbed his head slightly, letting out little “mhm”s.

after giving ample attention to one, his mouth was only off you for a second before switching to the other. it was like if he was gone for too long, it’d kill him.

his tongue continued to swirl in tantalizing patterns until he deemed it ready. he pulled off with a small “pop!”, then massaged the areas he had his mouth on. almost like he was trying to infect the saliva into your skin. it made you moan.

you watched him, after a few seconds of rubbing, shift downwards with his hands sliding down to your hips. dominic lowered his body down on the ground, knees hitting the cement floor beneath him.

you could barely contain your excitement as his fingers practically ripped your panties down, also now on the floor.

when you were now spread on the couch, naked and vulnerable, all he could do was stare. he got lost in the curves and twists of your body. you were sure he’d gone paralyzed or something, the way he was just gazing.

you laughed, turning your head. “what?”

his eyes immediately trailed up to meet yours. it made your breath hitch. he just had some kind of look that his layers of yearning beneath it. “let me look, k?”

so you shut up fast. let him look at you like a feast he was ready to dig into before his hands nudged your legs wider. he grabbed one leg with his rough fingers and propped it over his shoulder.

with the other, his thumb landed on your clit. it traced a couple seconds, then trailed immediately down to your entrance. it shocked you, making you elicit the tiniest little gasp. you could see a hint of a smile on his face.

he spread your lips open to see the wetness pooling there. it made him groan. “don’t worry, it’s gonna feel so good.”

and without a further warning, two fingers were immediately inside your aching cunt. it took everything in you not to practically scream.

see, there was a difference between your fingers and his. yours were long, but skinny. they hit that special spot with ease, but they could never truly fill you completely. you were always left feeling a little underwhelmed.

but dominic’s hands did just the trick. his fingers were a perfect combo: long and slightly larger than yours. and not only that, but his countless guitar sessions made him experienced with moving. grabbing. thrusting.

so to finally, finally feel them within your walls again was angelic. orgasmic.

dominic’s fingers kept a steady rhythm. in and out, in and out, like the beat of a crude song. you didn’t know what to do, slapping your hand over your mouth. your whines were a stark contrast to the sound of wetness filling the room.

and when his fingers curled up, you swore your body was levitating. out of every lover, every toy, every quick fuck, this was the best you’d ever felt. no sounds came out of your mouth, anything other than basking in pure pleasure being too exhausting.

his words weren’t helping you much, either. “god, still so tight…shit, might have to warm you up more for this dick…you look so pretty…think you can take another, baby?”

which is why when his fingers left, you immediately retaliated. your eyes shot open, hand coming off your mouth. you couldn’t even open your mouth to speak before he cut you off. “don’t whine, ‘s gonna be alright. gonna get this…dick inside you.”

he trailed off, almost confused, but you swore you’d never seen anyone take off their pants faster. the fly was unzipped, button undone, and the whole material pooling at his ankles before kicking them off in a matter of seconds.

he was left in his boxers, earrings, and a necklace with his logo on it as he moved up the couch to lay down. he patted his thigh. “want you to ride it.”

you weren’t one to complain. definitely not when he pulled his boxers down and you saw him completely hard and waiting.

so, you moved to hover over his lap, knees stabilizing you. then, with a wide smile, you sank down. your head was immediately thrown back and a shared sound of pleasure emitted between you two.

you weren’t sure what it was, but right then, you were hyper-sensitive: you could feel everything. could feel your walls tightening, could feel even the smallest veins on his hard dick.

so, it was almost a challenge to move your own hips. but you wanted to make him proud.

you picked your hips up, moving up about halfway on his length before letting your pussy sink back down.

the feeling of it all made you go slow at first. you wanted to bask in the feeling of having him in you, here, right now. but, apparently, dominic wasn’t feeling it.

his hand came around your body to smack your ass. not hard, just enough to send a message. “you can go faster, c’mon.” it was more of a demand than a reassurance. you could tell.

so you picked up the pace. you weren’t sure how you were doing it, his dick penetrating you over and over again feeling like pure euphoria.

and it stayed that way for a good minute. deep moans and wet sounds of hips slapping together until it wasn’t.

you were lost in the moment, when suddenly, a loud bang on the door that could disrupt the deepest sleeper shot you out of your thoughts.

presented with fight or flight in this situation, you froze. your eyes launched open, head moved back in place, and you stayed split open on dominic’s dick. you could barely hear what the person on the other end of the door was saying. “dominic! stop!”

you didn’t recognize the voice, making your heart beat pick up as his head tilted towards the door. “what the fuck do you want?”

“for you to put your clothes on and come to this goddamn door!”

your heart dropped to your feet. you could see it in your boyfriend’s fave, too, as he remained still for a few seconds. “fuck.”

he looked up at you apologetically before rushing across the room to find his clothes. it took him a minute, his hands a little shaky as threw his shirt back on.

he was kind enough to throw you your dress, which you changed into shortly after him. you weren’t sure what was happening, but it was likely the backstage crew had heard you. simple as that.

dominic approached the door and opened it. what you didn’t expect was a crowd of people worthy to make up a whole musical cast to be on the other side. even worse, they all looked horrified. this couldn’t be just a simple leak.

your boyfriend shut the door, but left a small crack. you didn’t want to be caught up in the drama, but you wanted to at least know what was going on.

you stood behind the door, slightly peeking your head out to hear. it was clear you missed some parts of the conversation, but there were lots of words thrown around that were repeated. everyone. malfunction. serious. fuck. why. your name. microphone.

it made you sweat bullets. your body was still in slight shock from the subtle interruption, but the small piece of your brain still working was slowly piecing everything together.

if dominic’s mic pack was still on…and there was an error with the system…wait-

your puzzle piecing barley even registered before your boyfriend was standing in front of you again. his eyes were locked on yours, a look of fear in them.

“everybody in the venue just heard that.”

#the fact this was originally gonna be a drabble #now it’s a 4k word fic.#ya sorry if this is too much i just had fun writing this 😭#omg this is also an amazing leeway into an angst #lmk if you want that #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike smut #dominic fike #smut #reader insert

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phoenixeclipse-lmkau · 6 months ago

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The Cursed Warlords - Arc #One ~ Cursed

(This BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE is made by none other than my lovely friend @miifu666 !! It is the official cover for Arc#One, and it is AMAZING!)

You are a young woman working at a small convenience store from 9 to 5 every day. Afterword you would always return home and help your sickly mother take care of your younger siblings. With your father no where to be found and your only older brother refusing to step up you were the main provider of your family.

It was an exhausting life. Until one day a mistake is made by a powerful individual and you are pulled into another world. There is danger at every turn and you have no idea how to get back home. You are lucky to find a travel companion in a small monkey demoness, Spirit, who is willing to protect you after all the help that you have given her.

You are eventually joined by two rather unwilling monkey cubs. Who unknown to you are more than just ordinary monkey cubs.

Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque, the mated monkey kings of Flower Fruit Mountain and once powerful warlords have been reduced to small, helpless cubs. Cursed by an unknown enemy they are defenseless to the dangerous world around them until you, a young mortal woman find them.

They are initially very distrusting and angry with you for ‘capturing them’. However for one reason or another they slowly find themselves captivated by you. Day by day it grows from a small spark to a raging flame within them by your kind nature. Captivation turns into a dark and possessive love for you.

However it’s not long before they learn that you don’t plan to stay in their world. They are distraught and have no idea what to do. No matter what they try to do you seem so dead set on leaving them. It definitely doesn’t help that they aren’t able to truly speak to you.

>>>

Masterpost

Chapter #One - Into The Unknown

Chapter #Two - Escape

Chapter #Three - Cursed

Chapter #Four - The Deal

Chapter #Five - Meeting The Mortal

Chapter #Six - Towards the Village

Chapter #Seven - The Village

Chapter #Eight - Rest and Calm

Chapter #Nine - Frozen Wind

Chapter #Ten - Lost

Chapter #Eleven - The Fox Demoness

Chapter #Twelve - The Deer Spirit

Chapter #Thirteen - Crushes

Chapter #Fourteen - Headbands

Chapter #Fifteen - Bidding Farewell

Chapter #Sixteen - Over the Edge

Chapter #Seventeen - Injured Darling

Chapter #Eighteen - The Monkey Demon

Chapter #Nineteen - Hurt and Comfort

Chapter #Twenty - Dark Forest

Chapter #Twenty-One - The Forest Stone

Chapter #Twenty-Two - The River Dragon

Chapter #Twenty-Three - Sworn Sisters

Chapter #Twenty-Four - ???

Chapter #Twenty-Five - ???

Chapter #Twenty-Six - ???

Chapter #Twenty-Seven - ???

Chapter #Twenty-Eight - ???

Chapter #Twenty-Nine - ???

Chapter #Thirty - ???

Arc #Two - ???

#dead dove do not eat #sun wukong x macaque #yandere sun wukong #yandere macaque #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #shadowpeach x reader #Sun Wukong #Six Eared Macaque #Lmk Fanfic #JTTW Fanfic #Arc One - Cursed #Masterpost #cursed warlords lmk au #cursed warlords au #Cursed Warlords #chu spirit oc #Chu Spirit #Reader Insert

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crsssie · 7 months ago

Text

foresight, for life

word count: 6.5k || banner art by chicll on bluesky (her prometheus art >>)

warnings: nsfw, smut (but like, one scene)

summary: the future means nothing to the titan of foresight

The future means little to nothing to the god of foresight.

Everything is known, including the nymph who has stumbled upon the gates of Olympus, eyes locked on his as he stares down.

"Nymph."

"...oh gods..." You mumble. "This was not what I saw."

He raises a hand as Aetos flies towards you, ready to end you once and for all, but you dodge, crying as you do.

"Oceanid! Not a god!"

He stares down at you as he holds a hand out back for Aetos, staring down at you as you stand there. Small. You're much smaller than he is, that's a given considering he's a titan, and when he stares at you, there are hundreds of futures that could spawn. However, the most obvious of which is the one in which you die to Aetos. You are in no shape to be dodging a second attack from an animal so fast, and he ponders if it would bring any entertainment if you were to simply pass. It would be a waste, considering that one vision goes as far as picking you up on a chariot. How strange.

"I am not... a god." You mumble. "I have been told... or seen that you simply harbor ill intent to gods and not the others."

He lets you breathe, letting Aetos soar up to scout the area, and you fiddle with your fingers behind your back, watching as the titan stares at you.

"You are lost."

"Most certainly so."

"You knew how to get here."

"Apparently."

Scary. The hand burnt from the fire for humans and the red eyes of a titan are daunting, and you are in no position to be able to beg for mercy. You are not the human he cherishes, and you are not a god that could hold their ground. The wound on his stomach is wrapped in bandage and red with tears, and for a moment you wonder if you could be able to heal him with the final bit of spring water you've managed to haul with you despite your limited foresight dragging you all the way up Olympus. It seemed to be useless against the titan himself, though. Always intriguing to see how it all seems to freeze at the sight of the man himself.

"You are a nymph."

"Minor goddess of foresight, but it matters not since I am not worshipped and neither am I treated as one." You blink. "My foresight is nothing compared to yours, Lord Prometheus."

"Then why lie upon meeting me?"

"You know, lord."

"I wish to hear it from your mouth. I know of what you could say, not what you will."

"I did not wish to die. The eagle scares me. I am in no condition to be fighting. I am on the final bits of spring water."

"You may heal me. Or, try. There are plenty chances that you would fail."

"I am aware." You pause. It isn't surprising he knew that you had entertained the thought. "But my foresight is useless when it comes to you, lord."

"Make haste."

"You trust that I will not harm you?"

"In the few in which you do, you fail."

"Ah." You fumble with the sac, and you blink up at him. "It would be best to, um, sit or lay down, my lord."

He sits as you instruct, and you whisper a quiet affirmation as you reach to unwrap the bandage, hands gentle on his skin as you let the water pour into the wound and watch as it reforms. There is a quick glow of blue and then his skin is fixed, and you stare at the scar that is leftover, but not the wound that is long gone. You close the rest of the water and reach for the bandages once more, wrapping them carefully as Prometheus stares. Delicate fingers on his stomach as you're practically shaking.

You do not wound him in any possible future.

"Is there anything beyond the gate?"

"There is not. It is simply the void for the time being." He stares. "The princess is fighting below."

"Shall she win?"

"The future lays yes."

"I see." You mumble.

You take two steps back as the Titan gets back up, staring down at you as he blinks.

"Speak. Of your reward you wish to hold."

"I have none. You must know so, my lord."

"You scale the mountain of the gods for no reason?"

"I had simply the foresight that I must be here. Seeing as I have healed you, I believe once I return back down, I will know what is next."

He stares at you as something shifts in the air, Aetos back as it tells Prometheus of what has happened, and you stare at the eagle.

"How incredible." You mumble.

"The gods were not expecting that I would befriend it."

"Yes, but it is pretty." You whisper. "The gold of the stars."

The eagle rattles its feathers as you hum.

"Well, I shall be off—"

"There is no future in which you survive the descent." Prometheus stares at you, and you blink back at him.

The titan is lying to you. That much you know simply because in a glimpse as you had seen while you were making your way up, you had spotted the very edge of Greece and the ocean where your sisters rested when you head down, but you do not pry. You are certain that he knows you know. You wonder what has caused an interest in you from the Titan, but you wonder if you are too terrified to find out. In the future you had seen, you survived, but you had also returned up the mountain with a new flask of spring water. You wonder if you only survive if you return.

"And if I return?"

"Then you survive in most cases."

"I see." You pause.

You spot a short-haired goddess with a transparent forearm, and you pass her briefly as you rush onto the eagle, and she approaches you after defeating him to ask if you are being held hostage.

"I shall... return." You mumble. "I assure you, Lord Prometheus. I am not running away. The future in which I see requires me to return in order to progress. I am, unfortunately, important as of right now."

"Make haste."

"Understood."

The futures in which you had fought back disappear from the possibilities, and he watches the princess fight. Up, die, down, live.

Up.

Down.

Death.

Return.

He knows where she resides, and perhaps it is an act of mercy or the sheer fact that in every future possible he does not touch upon the crossroads. Where the missing children of Nyx reside. The fates are in the hands of Chronos and so he, yet it seems that both he and the other daughter acknowledge that there will be change as long as the princess prevails. Change that could not be seen with the prince.

Change that can be seen with the addition of you.

You had been visible in only one possible future — the one in which you had managed to make it up the mountain prior to the princess, and somehow it had occurred. It knocked out plenty of futures with such a simple change. It was so simple, yet he would not have been able to do it. Everything moves with precision, and when you make it back up, dangled by the claws of Aetos and dropped unceremoniously into Prometheus' arms, a squeak past your lips as you scrambled out of his arms out of a fear.

You fear that he will be angered.

He lets you misunderstand. There is only one future for you.

There are multiple for him.

It is a constant shattering of the self. Prometheus understands it. It has seeped far into his bones and become a part of him. He is no longer bothered by it. He has learned to coexist with the world and its possibilities. Yet, yet it is refreshing to see a linear foresight in the form of you. A nymph who was worshipped as a god, who received snippets of the future in the form of strange flashes according to his foresight. A nymph who carried her spring water around and heals titans who were violently opposed to the gods. There is no good nor bad to you — only a future in which you can see. You continue linearly to the future that you are certain of.

He is above you to some extent, he thinks.

It's why you hide above the pillars of the chamber, peering down at the princess fight Prometheus, her moves readable to you, and you well aware of when he would win and when he would lose. It's why you let water dribble out of your flask into your palm before she arrives at certain times, fingers gentle on his skin as he stares down at you.

But he prefers the silence of not needing to fight anyone and sitting with you on the pillar to watch over the destruction of Olympus to everything else. In the quiet moments where you do not have foresight, and he simply ignores everything that he knows. The knowledge of the universe is the burden that a titan must carry. It is a burden that even you carry, even if your options are limited. There is little to be picky about. It seems you understand that just as well as he does. It is intriguing that you only know the sure future.

Foresight of all, or foresight of one.

"My foresight is nowhere near as strong as yours." You scratch your cheek, water on your fingers as Prometheus leans back against a pillar, letting your fingers smooth over his wounds. Gods and titans seldom need healing, but it felt nice to feel the coolness of water on his skin that would not burn off immediately from the flame in his right. You are also gentle, skin less jagged and gentle against his, hands unscarred and clean of all traces of labor or hardship. He doubts it is because you lack it — he knows it is not because you lack it. It is simply because the water on your hands has made it so that no jagged skin on your body would go unforgiven.

But it is not that he is enamored with you. It is not that he finds you intriguing. It is not that there was a singular moment in the future where he pictured the two of you in a chariot. No. It was not all of that. It was the sheer simplicity that despite the possibility that you could have attacked or reported, you did not. Instead, you had used the last of your water, fingers smooth against his stomach as you had healed the hole in his abdomen — restoring his stomach. You are no god. You a a simple nymph with a strange ability to see snippets of your future. He wonders if you had seen the same chariot.

You do not show it — he knows it. You have not seen that future quiet yet.

In the case that Chronos were to win, then you would be a nice trophy of war.

Though, you might go with him willingly without breaking or coercion.

But, in the linear future you see, there is no victory for his side.

"The princess is too strong." You simplify it.

He knows. He knows that is the future you see. The future you see tends to run more finite than the infinte that he sees. There is a certain sense of truth or reality that only exists in your future. The one that you see. Prometheus does not understand why he seems so fixated on knowing how you know, but he doesn't speak. He mentions not even a word to the others. Chronos needs not to know that Prometheus is hiding a nymph at the tip of Olympus, or that the future is grim for the both of them.

No.

You will continue to tell him the outcomes of his battle, and he will continue to fall for the reality in your words. There will be a cycle that continues until the princess can figure something out, he supposes.

He catches your thoughts occasionally — in the strange futures where you give into impulse and touch his hair, or in the strange futures where you grab the hand with fire, but you never act upon anything. You stay distant so that he does not feel uncomfortable. Everything you do in the present is done out of a worry that he will see a future in which the majority of possibilities end with his hand around your throat and you pass. However, it comes as not much of a surprise that you do eventually succumb to such urges.

"May I touch your hair, Lord Prometheus?"

"Be gentle." He leans his head down to you, and you reach to pinch it between your fingers, lashes fluttering as you stare in awe. Almost as though you had never had to press your fingers through his hair to heal the wounds on his skull. Yet, he stares through your soul as you still, eyes continuing to stare as you try your best to ignore the way he's staring at your skin. You're good at ignoring things. In most of the universes where you survive, you ignore the implications of taking care of him, playing innocent whenever the princess comes. As though the pouch of liquid were for yourself and not the titan.

"In case the flames injure me." you tell the princess.

But the truth is, you do not care for too much. The same way that Prometheus is at the gates of Olympus because it greatly increases the chances of the princess' victory, you sit perched up top to heal him again and again because it greatly increases the chances that he will survive if it ever comes to it. In the singular future you see in spots, Prometheus has to survive. You make that much obvious in the way you tend to him while the princess runs again and again. There is no point in fighting her way to the top when she has discovered the way to seal time for good.

It gives you a little downtime with Prometheus.

"My lord. Did you join the fight for the sake of the humans?"

"There is no future in which the humans will be happy under the rule of the gods."

"But they do not survive if the titan takes over."

"So you are aware."

You sit cross-legged across from him, blinking at him slowly as you tilt your head.

"You are here for the princess, then."

"Was."

"And what now?"

He stares at you, glow of fire too much for you as you look away to Aetos.

"I ought to keep you as a war trophy."

"That would be amusing." You rummage through your pouch, huffing when there is none else but water. "Why me, my lord? Not the eagle?"

"Aetos has become a friend."

"And I have not?"

"Not yet."

"I see."

The princess stops by on occasion in between her fights with Time to talk to you after defeating Prometheus. You hand her materials that she might need for the way down, and she offers you a bottle of nectar that you take with a light laugh in your voice. She is sweet. You admit that much. Even in the flash of the future that you see briefly when your fingers brush hers as you talk, she is wonderfully charming all the same. So, you tell her that there is really no reason for her to be gifting you nectar like this.

"I aid the titan, princess."

"Not Time. The titan who has reason to be angered." She reasons, looking behind you as Prometheus manifests.

"I see." You blink. "Let me offer you something in exchange."

You hand her a flask of spring water, waving as she rushes off now that Prometheus had returned.

"You aid us both."

"Just as you do."

Your fingers smooth over his skin like a ritual, wounds cleared and skin restored, his eyes digging into the color of your cheeks, hand gentle as he reaches to hold it, earning him widened eyes from you. You could not turn down his advances even if you had begged him. There is too much of a difference in status, and you are no foolish nymph. You let him brush his thumb over your cheek, blinking at him gently as he stares. He could snap you if he really wanted to. There is the looming threat that he could wrap his hands around your neck, squeeze, and you would pop. Yet, you can not do anything if he bores of you.

You still do not understand why he had decided to keep you alive.

A gloved hand and fire.

His palm squeezes against your cheek, and you blink owlishly at the texture of the glove.

"You can not say no."

"I dare not to." You fiddle with your fingers, staring at him through your lashes as he hums. "Forget you nymphs can die."

"We are immortal, not indestructible." You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

He stares and stares, eventually drawing his hand from your face, your eyes fluttering open as he hums.

"You died in one future."

"I did not die in mine."

How reassuring.

The next time the princess brings Prometheus to ruin, you ask her if she has pomegranates. She offers you one of power, and you turn it down. The fruit, not the pom, and she tells you no. You offer her a handful of seeds and request that she bring only one to you her next trip upwards. A full fruit, unbruised if possible. Not that it makes much of a difference. You simply craved the fruit since you were up here anyway. Too scared to leave the titan — you tell her.

When she leaves, Prometheus returns, and you are back to your ritual.

Cold hands, warm skin. You let him wrap his fingers around your wrist this time — you don't move as he does. You blink at him owlishly, his palm warm on your wrist, your skin heating up at his touch. It's a strange sense of domesticity — no. It's just simple warmth. It had been a while since there had been any warmth at all. The land had frozen over ever since the House of Hades fell to Time. The winter is cold. It is comforting to feel the warmth of fire again after such a climb. You only hope the princess will hand you a pomegranate her next time up.

Your wrist warms from his touch, and you watch as he squeezes, hold firm as you blink slowly at him.

"It does not wound you."

"No." You blink. "It surprises me."

He squeezes harder, and you blink. Stare. You articulate your fingers, blinking at him slowly as he loosens his hold, letting you slip your wrist from his grasp, hand stuck in his as he squeezes. He stares. He knows it all, and you only know one future. It matters not. You do not know your future of him or with him, but he knows. He knows the future with you. You have to learn to trust that he will not harm you. Learn to understand that it is fine if you do not know what comes next. He will, and somehow, he will guide you.

You do not have the foresight for the Titan of Foresight.

Yet, you catch snippets of a possible separate future when you ask for things. Futures where you did not ask. There is a sense of amusement from the titan somehow when you don't. He stares at you, eyes semi-hard but still peering, cock of a brow upwards as you blink owlishly at him.

"If I may."

"If you may what?"

You dig your nails into your palms before releasing, breathing as you ask.

It is always a yes. You've pressed your hands up his arms, given them a squeeze, and he has run his palm up your bicep and rested his forehead against yours. His hair that tickles your forehead, and your skin that is cool against his. You wonder if he understands that the intimacy sends jolts down your spine, your heart racing in your chest when he touches you. He might. He might do it to get a reaction out of you. You would not know if he does.

You stare into the red of his, blinking slowly as his thumb brushes over your pulse point, pressing down as your heart races in your ears.

"You are embarrassed."

"It goes without saying." You mumble, cheeks warm.

"The heart races."

"Yes."

"For what reason."

"You know, my lord."

"I must hear it from your lips."

Your voice loses itself in your throat, and he hums, lips in the ghost of a smile as you purse your own and close your eyes. Too much. Too honest. Your heart threatens to break out of your chest and end your immortality right there, and you blink slowly when you finally do open your eyes, the titan still staring.

You would not dare to confess that you like him. It would be inappropriate for a mere nymph to do so.

"Will you say it?"

"I can not, my lord."

"Then learn to accept it." He presses his palm to your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he leans in.

Aetos screeches above the two of you.

You bounce off immediately, back upon the pillar, heart racing as you hold it, hiding your face in your hands with a battering heart as you feel Prometheus' gaze linger on your hiding self. The red of his eyes dig into the flushing of yours, and you peek through your fingers when you hear the arrival of the princess, staring down. He would win this fight, unfortunately. She is wounded quite harshly from Strife, and it would be hard for her to survive without the revivals she leaned upon in order to defeat the titan.

Your words hold true, especially when you watch the princess cling onto her final moments, the bong of doom shaking over her head as she yells for a quick pause, holding out a pomegranate before she returns.

"For... the nymph."

Prometheus takes the pomegranate from her hand, and you hop down as you hold your hands out for the fruit.

"I refuse to participate." He stares.

"Alright."

You reach to peel the pomegranate, surprised when Prometheus does it instead, fingers digging into the fruit as he cracks it open for you, offering you the fruit as his hands stain red. You thank him, fingers brushing his as you take the fruit, red seeping onto your own to match his as you squeeze it for the juice, seed pressed to your nails as you stain. The red becomes so much more apparent with the nails and fingertips, humming to yourself quietly as you peel out the seeds, fingers gentle as you offer them to the titan. Instead, he slides them past your lips, staring as your lips part to take his offering, your fingers tugging at Prometheus' belt to have him bend down.

"I must heal you." You whisper.

"Offering me the spoils of effort." He mumbles. "How strange of you."

You blink, brushing his bottom lip with your thumb when he lowers, and you have him sit once more. Rest up. You tell him, water cold in your hands as he stares at the glow of blue. A strange dynamic the two of you have evolved into, he thinks. You're so breakable like this, nimble and pliant, skin softer under his palm as he grabs you. You're incredibly easy to break. But it's not that it matters. He can not break you. You do not need to be broke. You would listen to him if he asked out of fear. Fear or affection, he wonders.

What is the future that is visible in your eyes? You do not know your future with him.

He knows that you do not. Each step you take has a million other possibilities. You obey his word because of the hierarchy. He digs his fingers into your skin, skin soft and arm small. It matters not this or that. It matters only that it seems you only seem to care about him. You fear things that you do not speak upon, and you learn to accept his motions. His hands are gentle when he holds you, and he tells you when the princess or Aetos is to arrive to avoid scaring you. You're jumpy when he's affectionate with you.

Like a fawn caught in the wild.

In a way, you learn to accept his affection, still insisting on occasion that he would bore of you and that you should not reciprocate — you dare not to. Heavens knows how many lovers he has had or how the gods do not devote themselves to someone or something. You worry of trivial things. He does not see a future in which you will not be by his side. Regardless of what form of companionship you take, you are there in every future.

You are shyer with your affections, offering fruit to him when the princess defeats him and brings you items from her garden. You offer her seeds in return. requesting that she bring only one or two items from the seeds you've given her. You do not know how many times it has been since you've been handed grapes to enjoy. If she notices that you take care of the titan, she does not mention it. You would prefer that she just ask you upright, but you find it endearing that she lingers past the gate and peeks at the two of you as Prometheus sits down for you to fix him up.

She's quite cute — that goddess.

Prometheus whispers for you to rid of her, but you do not listen, hand smoothing up his abdomen and over the clots of gold that have formed. The intimacy tears at your skin, raking down your back in ripples as you whisper to end it all, begging him quietly to simply let the goddess pass. It would not hurt. Unless it would hurt his pride. She is visibly a sensible person. It would not hurt to let her go once or twice considering that Chronos could not know.

He tells you not to worry about it.

"When it all ends, I will return to my punishment."

"I expect it to be different this time." You whisper, fingers smoothing against his face as he sits you in his lap.

"My punishment? The chances are minuscule, nymph." He closes his eyes, melting into your touch as you hum.

"My foresight says change."

"Then your foresight we will depend on." He closes his eyes, letting your fingers scratch at his scalp, your skin cool against his as he rests his forehead on yours. "Do not break, dear nymph."

"I will not under your care, my lord." You mumble.

"Am I still all that is to you?"

You jump in your skin when the sound of the princess approaching breaks through the silence.

"You did not warn me." You frown.

"Prefer to see you squirm."

You stay seated on the top of the pillar as you blink slowly, hiding your face from the embarrassment, praying that it will pass.

When the princess wins, she leaves you with the message that Chronos is to fall soon after a while.

"I am in the process of sealing him away for good."

"I see." You whisper back as she hands you a handful of figs.

"More than one?"

"I believe you share these with the titan."

You laugh, cheeks warm as you send her off, sound of Prometheus' return behind you as you turn around to make the offering, handful of figs in your hand as he stares down.

"Feed me, dear nymph."

You take one from your palm, pressing it to his lips as he eats it, and you press one to Aetos' beak as it squacks at you. Then, you press one to your own, biting down as the meat of the fruit rips in your mouth, sweet against your tongue as Prometheus stares, wounds fresh on his skin, gold staining his body as you place the figs in your pouch.

"Chronos shall be falling."

"I am aware." He closes his eyes as you run your thumb under his eyes.

"Will you let the princess go next time if she succeeds?"

"If she succeeds."

"I'm sure she will."

"Not certain?"

"She has that kind of charm." You hum. "May I?"

"And what would that be?"

"I dare not to ask outright."

"Then kiss me, dear nymph." He leans down, lips brushing yours gently.

You kiss him, lips hesitant as yours brush his once more, shaking slightly as his hands find your face, palms rough against your cheek as you close your eyes and lean in, head tilted back slightly as he leans over you, body swallowing yours as his lips swallow yours, and you shake gently. His hands steady themselves on your cheek, and eventually your mind spins with the lack of air — there is no lack of air for a nymph, but your chest burns and your head spins, heat pooling in your lungs as you whimper for air, whimpering into his lips as he makes not a sound.

You gasp, pulling back as he chases, one hand sliding down to wrap around your neck delicately, fingers hot against your throat as you swallow, muscles flexing under his palm as his lips find yours again. He's parched, you think. Hasn't had a sip of water since his chaining in the sea, and saltwater is no good to drink. He tastes like the heat of the fire you had observed when curious, peering quietly at the flame that he had been chained over. It burns and scorches your throat but your head boils beautifully at the feeling of his lips on yours, sparks sparkling down your spine, your eyes closing once more. Death is frozen in time — it no longer matters. You can not pass.

When Prometheus finally lets go of you, the warning sound of the princess' footsteps light against the marble stairs and vision of the future in his eye as he tucks you behind him gently, eyes meeting the princess as he lets Aetos land on his hand. The princess locks eyes with you as you offer a shy smile.

"Time has been weakened."

"I lack one final item."

"Then fetch it. Do not disappoint, agent of change." Prometheus stares, watching as the princess rushes past the three of you.

"You let her go." You whisper.

"You should have known."

"I do not know your future, my lord."

"Then of yours?"

"That, I know."

Prometheus tells you that he is to fight the princess one final time when she returns after defeating time.

You understand it as well, circles drawn in his palm as he sits down, free hand resting on your thigh with an occasional squeeze, gentle smile on your lips as you trace the lines and scars, humming quietly. The flame in his hand is warm against your fingertips, and he controls the fire as to not burn you — but you like it. He knows you do. He knows you flush not from embarrassment but from affection. That much is apparent. If anything, you appreciate the warmth that his body brings to yours.

"The princess returns in a while." You mumble, flushed as he pulls you closer, forehead pressed to yours as his lips part, skin of your neck pinched between his canines, hard enough to draw gold. You whimper from the tearing of skin, squirming in his grasp as he bites harder, Aetos soaring off to aid Chronos' troops as Prometheus traps you in his arms, tongue out as he laps at the dribbling blood. You hold back sound, neck craned to the side as your lashes flutter.

"My lord."

"It does not hurt, does it?"

"No, but it is a strange sensation." You whisper, heat melting down your spine and pooling between your legs, and Prometheus bites.

It's hard to not bite when you look and sound so sickeningly sweet, hands flying to your face that he has to pry away with his much larger ones, panic rising up your throat when he towers over you, and he thinks that perhaps you should not be taken on the marble at the end of the rebellion, but foresight be dammed. His mind is overdriven with the sound slipping past your lips, your bottom lip quivering as he lifts both your legs lifted up as he measures out himself, hips flush against yours as you gasp and cry about it not fitting.

"My lord—"

"Prometheus." He pinches at the skin of your collarbone, and you scramble to ground yourself, fingers pressing into the marble until the blood drains and it is the same shade of white, eyes wide as you shake your head.

"L-lord Prometheus. It won't—"

"You are immortal, dear nymph."

"I am immortal, not indestructible." You whimper as he nudges himself against you, thumb finding your pebble of nerves, brushing gently as you flutter around nothing.

"You crave it."

"I fear it."

"It coexists." He presses a hand to your chest, and you inhale. "Breathe for me, dear nymph."

You exhale, drawing a breath in when he pushes past your entrance and into you, your throat suddenly full and lashes wet at the sudden intrusion. He reaches down to wipe at your tears, forehead pressed to yours as he syncs your breathing with his, deep breaths past his lips as you follow, sheen on your body glistening as the moon hangs in the sky. His free thumb wipes at the tears, and you paw at his chest, nails dug into your palms to not tear the wound on his chest, and he brushes your bottom lip.

"It won't hurt, dear nymph."

"Does not—" You furrow your brows, closing your eyes. "change that I wish not to hurt you."

"It takes more than a nymph to tear a titan." He reaches for your hands, unclenching them as he has you press them to his chest. "Worry not."

"Can't see your future." You whimper, voice broken as you breathe. "Don't know if—"

"Then trust that I do." His thumb at your clit gives it a gentle nudge, and he holds back a groan at the way you flutter around him. "Dear nymph."

"You can—" you swallow, panting, sweat trickling down your forehead as you exhale. "move, dear... Prometheus."

"I will not hurt you."

"I trust that."

You're sickeningly sweet under him. He moves slowly at first, trying to keep you comfortable, foresight in hot flashes before his eyes, stilling when he needs to, moving when it seems you are comfortable again. Eventually your heavy breathing turns into jagged syllables of what resembles his name, and his mind stills with the way his hips drive into yours, and your nails dig at his forearms, still too scared to rip his chest, and he grunts when you do spill over the edge and cry his name with beads in your eyes and a vice between your legs. He follows shortly after, and he rakes his mind for a future in which perhaps he could fit all of himself in you, but when you reach for his neck, he pushes it back.

"Well done, dear nymph."

Your eyes close from exhaustion.

You stay that way. Your mind turns off and you are not awake when Chronos is sealed. You are, however, aware of it all, flashes of the future in your mind as you see a chariot of gold, startling you awake. You stay in the embrace of Prometheus, rubbing your eyes tiredly as the future is revealed to you sweetly. You lean on his chest and close your eyes once more, matching your breathing to his as he rubs at your forearm.

"The princess is coming."

"Yes."

"And Time has been sealed."

"Correct."

"And you are to be punished once more."

"It is inevitable."

You laugh a little when you remember what Prometheus' punishment ends up being.

"You are aware?"

"We will be alright."

There is a sense of urgency this time, Prometheus thinks. He is not so much of a coward as to run off since Chronos himself has been defeated, but he worries of what will happen to you if you were to be captured. Too many possibilities, and you refuse to share the one that has been revealed to you. Yet, he is no match for the princess, defeated once more as you watch his body disappear. He must be back to nursing, but his body returns immediately, unable to access the rest that Chronos had once provided him. The titan is defeated, and he is next.

"You must not trap him, princess." You land on the ground of the chamber, hands gentle as you take hers and stare at the coughing titan. "I shall take him to my spring if I must. He must not go back."

"Nymph, you must not be—"

"I shall steal him if that is what it takes." You whisper. "His wrath has been justified. It always has been. Both of us are aware of such a small fact."

"Then the olympians. It does not justify what he has done to the gods."

"The gods are simply prideful. After all, did he not purposefully weaken himself for your sake these fights? He had been punished for offering fire to the humans." You offer. "I am not saying that he must get away free of all punishment. I simply ask that you are to request for a simpler punishment. Perhaps something less gruesome than what was previously sent for him."

"And what do you propose?"

You whisper into the princess' ear, but you know Prometheus knows what you have said.

"How does that sound?" You look up at the titan as he stands up, Aetos back on his hand.

"What a hit to my pride."

You grin, lips curling upwards as you laugh.

"Will the gods know?"

"Not with the fates back where they belong."

"Very well." The princess nods. "Do invite me, yes?"

"Of course." You hum, cheeks warm as she's gone from the door.

"It will occur?"

"My foresight says yes."

Prometheus learns to trust you.

And, well, if the princess hears news about a new chariot being in the works by Hephaestus, then it is not her place to tell for whom or for what.

#you ever write smth n then blink n then get embarassed bc “oh god why me” im not strong enough for this each time i start a tag i die #hades game x reader #hades 2 x reader #☾.nsfw #hades 2 #☾.fics #prometheus x reader #prometheus hades game x reader #hades game #the thing was i went on a lore dive n found out he actually has a wife n i went “NO FUCKING WAY” so here we are #bluesky user chicl if u r seeing this n would not like your art to be used in this lmk... 'm sorry :(#prometheus hades #reader insert #prometheus #hades prometheus

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stanpinesdykewife · 8 months ago

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How do you feel about breeding kink ? Kinda a request for Stan/reader haha

HELLO thanks for sending this in! so i've never been a big breeder (breeding kink enjoyer) but you and several others are really into it so i finally gave it a shot!!! enjoy! and check out my friend's breeding kink fic at the bottom if you're into this :) under the cut:

knock knock stan/reader (fem!reader) (unless you're me and can ignore the gender implications of "mommy") pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1954 words (bonus: fic rec at the bottom)

It starts out like the normal, mostly-vanilla sex you usually have with Stan.

You two go out, get tipsy, come home, and make it through approximately half an episode of your joint show before slipping into a sloppy makeout. It's not exactly routine, but it's expected, and it's a hit for a reason. Sex with Stan is good, full stop. Which is why you’re always surprised when something new comes along that makes it even better.

“Hngh—Fuck,” you choke out, your voice catching behind your teeth as Stan sinks into you. You're on your back, staring with bleary eyes at the sight of Stan's flushed face above you. He's sitting on his heels with your ankles on his shoulders, his hands holding firmly at your plush hips as he grinds into you. “Fuck. God, please.”

“Told you you'd have to beg for it this time, didn't I?” Stan chuckles, stroking over your soft skin with his thumbs. He sounds gentle, but he's grinding into you hard, enough that each forward roll of his hips has your whole body rocking with it. He'd been fucking you so hard earlier, so good, but he does this thing sometimes—he stops altogether to get you talking. He loves when you talk to him. “Go on, then, sweetheart. You want it, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, stuttering at another press of his dick into you. You gasp when he pulls back, drawing out only halfway before grinding in again. Your voice is wobbly when you say, “Yes, yeah. I want it, please fuck me, oh, fuck—I wanna come. Wanna make you come in me.”

You know, even through the haze in your mind and the growing blush on Stan's face, that that's a normal thing for you to say. It never gets old, and it's never untrue. Asking Stan to come in you always feels really fucking good. You're having a really good night.

“I know, baby. You want me to fill you up,” Stan says, full-on smiling down at you. His eyes are warm and a little unfocused as he draws out again, then pushes in, keeping that same romantic rhythm he's had since slowing down. His voice is low, almost drowsy, when he adds, “You want it to stay there, too? Want it to take?”

“Wh—Huh?” you ask, your mind a little preoccupied to register all the words coming out of his mouth. You're a little too busy staring at him, at his dark eyes, his crooked grin, then lower, to the hair on his chest leading down to his belly. Stan huffs out a good-natured laugh at your obvious spacing out.

“You always ask me to come inside.” When your gaze finally wanders back up to his, he's already staring at you. Stan chuckles again and adjusts his grip on your body, unintentionally hiking your hips up a little. He clarifies, “It's almost like you want me to knock you up.”

Your jaw drops open at that. A new wave of heat curls in your abdomen, making your fingers twitch, and your legs suddenly tense. Stan was half-joking, you know he was, but it's too late to pitch him a laugh and play into it. His brows raise, and you can practically see the gears turn in his head when you blink at him in mild shock.

Then the light bulb clicks on, and Stan's expression brightens in the way it always does when he learns something new about your body. Despite yourself, you smile, too, a flustered giggle bouncing from your throat when you realize he's about to pounce.

“W-Wait, I didn't—” You have no clue what excuse you were going to give to clear your name of a kink you didn't even know you had, but Stan interrupts you so you don't have to find out. You squeal when he suddenly grabs you by the thighs and adjusts your body, manhandling you into a new position. “Stan—!”

“You like that, huh,” he snickers, not unkind, as he shuffles himself up onto his knees without pulling out. One of your legs almost falls off his shoulders, but Stan quickly corrects it before snatching a pillow from your left and shoving it under your hips. He leans forward slightly, asking you again, “You want me to knock you up?”

Before you can answer, Stan gives you the first proper thrust he's given you in a while. Your back arches as you moan, your hips automatically rocking up into his as he starts a steady pace. Your hands grip the sheets, and you try to stave off the mild embarrassment in your chest. You try to welcome the excitement instead, growing warm in your stomach, making you tremble.

“That's right, honey. Feels good, don't it? Gonna put a baby in you.” The humor in Stan's voice fades slowly, overtaken by his little grunts as he fucks into you. You moan at one particular angle, Stan's dick pressing perfectly up against that spot in your pussy that makes your legs shake, and Stan chases it. He leans forward, over you, making your voice pitch higher and higher. He groans, “Fuck, so wet. You're all nice and warm for me, sugar. Perfect for my spunk.”

“Ugh, don't—ah—call it that,” you huff out, voice cracking in the middle as Stan picks up speed.

“Whaddya want me to call it?” he laughs. “My come? My kids?”

“Fuck,” you moan, like the breath's been punched out of you. Stan's hips stutter, and something in the air shifts. He groans, leans forward more, and soon your body is bent deeply at the waist with your legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees close to your chest. You don't know what this position is called. A breeding press? A mating press? The specifics are lost on you as you open your eyes, blinking up at Stan's handsome, flushed face.

He’s breathing deeply above you, his hot breath mingling with yours as he plants his hands on either side of you. Stan’s been teasing you all this time, but all of a sudden it doesn't feel so lighthearted anymore. Stan pauses when you meet his eyes. Shifts his weight on his knees.

“C-Can…” You swallow around the words. You're fucking salivating. You look at Stan shyly, through your lashes, and find the courage to ask, “Can you please put your kids in me?”

“Holy Moses,” Stan says, and then he's kissing you, all sloppy and heated and so fucking turned-on. You moan into his mouth when he starts pumping into you again, fucking his hips down into yours, and this angle is so fucking good you can't believe you've never tried it with him before, holy fuck. Stan is so deep inside you, pistoning his hips so hard he's fucking you right into the mattress with each thrust.

“Ah, ah, fuck, yes—” you gasp, breaking the kiss. Stan groans against your open mouth before pulling away, his eyes screwed shut as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts, shifting so his forearms are caging your head, holding up his weight. “Gonna fucking fill you up, gonna make you have my fucking kids—Fuck, I'm already close.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you whine, voice strained as you reach up to grab hold of something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel like you're floating, so warm and dizzy at the thought of Stan filling you to the brim, and your hands somehow find their way up into Stan's hair. He groans again when you tug, and gives you a particularly rough thrust that makes you gasp. “Ah, shit—! Yes, I want it, want you to come in me, fill me up—”

“Yeah, just take my fucking load, baby, just take it,” he breathes, somehow much more intelligible than you are even as his hips start fucking into you unevenly, losing their rhythm. But Stan's thrusts get harder, his dick reaching deeper into your ready cunt, so deep you swear you can feel his precome leaking into your cervix, or maybe the thought of it is just so good that you're making shit up. But you snap back to reality at Stan mutters, his voice gruff, “Gonna come so deep in you, sweetheart—Hah, fuck, that's—Gonna make you a fuckin' mommy.”

You're coming, an intense orgasm rolling through you and forcing one loud, drawn-out moan from deep in your throat as Stan fucks into you with a few more frantic thrusts. You're gasping, cursing when you can spare the breath, and then you're whining high in your throat as Stan presses as deep as he can fucking go. His voice catches for a moment. Then he groans, long and loud, right into your face as he comes deep in you. It's so hot, literally, you can feel the heat blooming in your fucking cunt, can feel the way his thick dick twitches with its release.

“Fuck—Fuck,” Stan swears, shifting again so he can slide one hand to your hip. He hikes it up and shuffles closer on his knees, sighing once his lungs have the capacity. You're still catching your breath, still dizzy with warmth and post-orgasmic bliss as you think of that pocket of come being plugged inside you by Stan's softening dick. Stan breathes deeply in, then out. He’s still riding the tail end of his orgasm when he murmurs, “You okay?”

“Mm. Yeah,” you manage, carefully unwinding your fingers from his hair. When Stan can lift his head to look at you, his face is red with exertion. There's some drool slipping out the corner of his mouth, and you try a smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he sounds distracted. He studies your features, reading your expression, and whatever you managed of a half-smile drops.

“What?” you ask. But then Stan nudges his hips back, just an inch, and slowly presses into you again. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands flying to his shoulders to grip him there. “What are you—Ah, ah, fuck.”

You feel exactly what he does. Stan's come is slick in you, it always is, but the new connotations add so much to the warm, wet pool within your body. Stan grinds into you, getting your thighs and his abdomen slick with your come, then pulls out again. When he pushes back in, you both moan at how fucking easy it is. There's no resistance. His come is sticking the way, making it easier for him to fuck you.

Stan is still breathing deep, but another smile plays on his lips. He’s close enough that he only has to tilt his head slightly to kiss you, but it's chaste nonetheless. His grin is bright and affectionate. But it isn't quite innocent.

“You wanna try for another?” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your skin to dip between your bodies, to press gently, reverently against your stomach. You jolt at the touch, but eventually your hips start rocking into him. Stan doesn't move. You're intoxicated by the thought of him keeping you like this, pinned beneath him, full of his come and plugged by his dick as he brings you to the edge with his fingers.

“Ah, shit—Fuck. Yeah,” you say, the corners of your mouth rising up to match Stan's grin. You play along easier this time. “Yeah. Please. As many times as it takes, right?”

“Gotta knock you up somehow,” Stan says, keeping eye contact with you, his voice oozing with affection. You chuckle at him. What a softie. Then his fingers press a little harder on your stomach, then dip lower, lower, to really touch you, and your mouth drops into a moan instead. “Gonna be such a good mommy.”

You're having a great night.

(inspo from Family Planning by burberryali, which dropped super recently and helped a lot while i learned to write this!!! if you like breeding and fluff and stan in general... which i know you do... this fic is for you! show it some love!!)

#first smut i wrote in a while that i'm happy with!#thanks so much for reading teehee #as someone without a breeding kink i hope this is good #please lmk what you think...#and leave a comment on burberryali's fic!!!#smut #drabble requests #my writing #fic recs #gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #reader insert

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hime-bee · 8 months ago

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Homicipher has a tag on AO3 now, babes, started by this bitch here ✌

Mr. Scarletella is my first victim 😌

#btw if you don't have an AO3 account you won't be able to read this #so make sure you sign in #if you don't have an AO3 account and you want one then i have a few invites i can give out just lmk!#ao3 #archive of our own #Homicipher #mozibake #Homicipher fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #文字化化 #mr scarletella x reader #homicipher x reader

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lotusarchon · 3 months ago

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together ^-^ (mk x reader)

requested from ao3 by Kazumel: Maybe an MK x g/n reader (It can be platonic, totally up to you!) that suffers from partial hearing loss due to a childhood accident? Always nice to see some MK lmao

content warnings: gender neutral reader, second pov (you/your), light angst (referring to the accident), mentioned/implied injury, sfw, fluff, relationship is up to interpretation but mk is implied to have feelings for reader, drabble, childhood best friends

author's notes: fun fact, I cannot hear in my left ear unless someone yells in it and I still have no idea why. Been like this since I was a kid but I also remember little me used to like shoving shit down my earhole so maybe something stuck and now I'm half deaf...

The first time MK meets you, he's seven years old running after a rubber ball that Pigsy's bought for him. It's not the coolest toy at the playground, not compared to the other children with their colorful toys, but it's special to him regardless ― it's golden, with the Monkey King's signature symbol imprinted on it, though it's faded with use and time. Pigsy had saved up for it, buying the last one in stock just for him, and it's been his favorite toy since.

He's alone, as the memory goes, because MK hadn't been a very social child back then. He's just too quiet, too different, and the children avoid him.

“They're also stuck up brats who think you're too poor to play with,” Pigsy had grunted unhappily the first time MK had asked. “Don't pay them any attention, kid. They ain't know what they're missing out anyway.”

So MK thinks, and he kicks his ball towards a faded red pole. It's his favorite spot to play―not too far from Pigsy, but also not too close, and it avoids the other children playing. The pole acts as his friend, bouncing the ball back to him with each kick.

Except that this time, it's different. Because his ball doesn't hit the pole as he wants, but someone else.

That someone had been you.

MK remembers panicking on the spot. The ball had hit you square on the face, and you had tumbled and fallen onto your back. Frightened out of his wits, the poor boy had run wailing back to Pigsy about his “crime”, whereupon the pig demon had found you, breathed a sigh of relief that you weren't badly injured, and offered your parent a free meal as an apology.

He remembers, as the adults sit in Pigsy's small restaurant outside, sticking his finger into your mouth, poking at your gums. And you had done the same, ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘aah-ing’ at the sight of his pointy fangs that pricked your fingers.

The rest of the evening, it's spent with you both gushing about your favorite show―it seems you're a fan of the new Monkey King series that came out last year, but your favorite is a character with not enough screentime. Erlang, is it? Whatever, you still like the same show, and MK likes talking with you.

One visit becomes two, three, and so forth, so forth. You're his favorite person, his best friend, even. Your dad had no problem arranging playdates, and even offered Pigsy once to keep him (MK) for the night, if only to grant the pig demon some reprieve with work.

MK really, really likes you. He likes that you like playing with him, and he likes that you're one of the first people who admires his drawings and defends him against the mean kids in the playground.

But then, one day, you're not there. And MK doesn't know what to do.

He goes home to cry to Pigsy. Had a demon stolen you away? Or maybe, you had grown tired of him, as the children promised you would?

“It's okay, kid. We'll see (Name) tomorrow, okay? Don't cry.”

So he finds himself in a hospital, clutching a bowl of cookies Pigsy bought for you. He sticks to his dad and trails behind him, grimacing at the blinding white walls and the squeaky clean tiles which is so different compared to the familiar old floorboards of your homes.

He isn't allowed to see you at first. You're sleeping, with so many scary things attached to you. Your dad insists you'll be fine, but he thinks he's lying, because if you really would be fine, why would he be crying anyway?

But MK obediently promises Pigsy to listen, and he goes home and waits, and waits….

It's a month before you return again, looking sick, but also…better. Your dad stays downstairs to talk with Pigsy, and he gets to bring you to his bedroom, to watch the new episodes of Monkey Cop.

He doesn't ask, of course. Pigsy made him promise not to be rude, even if he's curious and wants to know really badly why you were sleeping in a hospital, or why one of your ears has cotton inside, or why you wince when he tries to touch it.

“There there.” He tries to say instead, patting your hand like Pigsy does for him. “Don't be sad. I'm here, okay?”

MK smiled as the memory faded in his mind. His gaze drifted towards you over the top of his cards, your expression one of pure focus as you try to determine which card you would need to win this round.

To be honest, it took an embarassingly long time for him to realize what had happened to you, and why from then on, you couldn't hear from one of your ear. Actually, had it not been for you both running into the ever-so intelligent Mei back then, he probably would've lived the rest of his life utterly confused.

Your accident meant that a lot of kids acted strangely around you back then. Why that was, even he wouldn't know, but he at least had promised you that no matter what, he would remain by your side.

And he meant it, didn't he? Sixteen years later, you were still his very best friend (well, next to Mei at least), and he wouldn't trade you for the world….

“Ha! I win!” You threw your cards before you, all aces. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you smiled, eyes gleaming with glee and pride at your victory, and for a moment, MK felt a slight warmth spreading through his body.

“Oh.” He smiled, hiding his own cards. “Guess I lost again, huh?”,

You laughed, a beautiful sound, and leaned forward to pat his shoulder. “Hey, it's not your fault I'm amazing.” You chuckled, flicking his forehead affectionately. “Next time, I'll go easy on you, alright?”

MK only hoped his blush wasn't too visible on his face. He cleared his throat and nodded with a smile.

“Fine, fine,” he pretended to relent. “One more game. Winner buys the loser dinner?”

“Shouldn't it be the other way around?”

“.....no….?”

“Broke ass.”

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smokeypeaches-and-honeyplums · 11 months ago

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Platonic g/n kid reader and Nezha hanging out on his free time hcs?

AWWWW THIS IS SO ENDEARING

I feel like NeZha definitely deserves something fluffy after the shit that was s5 (Erlang an Op frfr I need him GONE)

doing bulletpoint by default

Reader is Gender Neutral

You were a peculiar case

NeZha wasn't the type to find interest in just anyone, regardless of who they were

His loyalty was to the Celestial Realm and order above all else

But there was something about you that just kinda... drew you to him

Maybe it was how much you reminded him of his younger self, when he was mortal

Maybe it was you all together

He couldn't find the reason

But what he COULD pinpoint, was that you brought a sort of tranquility to his otherwise stressful and hectic life

When NeZha isn't cleaning up after Wukong's mess, he's dealing with some fuckery in the Celestial Realm

So his free time be spent in a way where the last thing on his mind being work is a blessing in its own right

You're endearing. Again, you remind him of his younger self, just not... as hectic (I would hope-)

If you're mortal, he's sort of like a guardian, warding off any demons or keeping you out of harms way

Teaching you the ways of the world

If you're a celestial/demon, the resemblance is at an all time high and possibly increases the attachment he has towards you

Especially if you're a demon. History is too flat a circle after all

He's also a sucker to any gifts you make for him. Flower crowns, food, ornaments

He cherishes them

A part of him still tries hard to rationalize this, but after a while, he's learned to accept things as is

He has experience doing so with a certain simian...

Even if he's immortal, your presence has a sort of healing effect to him, both physically and mentally

And he's smiling?! Oh my god???

The sky is falling

He's also strangely keen to entertaining you with games if he's been blessed with more than enough free time

Hearing you laugh and seeing you smile genuinely makes him feel at ease, like a big brother

Huh.

Maybe that's it

That sense of family he's been missing since Ascension...

Yeah

Sounds right

#lego monkie kid #lmk reader insert #lmk headcanons #lmk #lmk x reader headcanons #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader headcanons #monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #monkie kid headcanons #lmk nezha #lmk nezha headcanons #lego monkie kid nezha

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klauuyt · 3 months ago

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LMK: PROTECTING YOU

Jiaozi lost her memory and now she doesn't know how to defend herself, she doesn't remember how to fight and that's why she's vulnerable so Sun Wukong is always watching over her and protecting her.

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baxndaid · 11 months ago

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lmk wukong + macaque headcannons? mayve like how protective they r bc the reader is hit on also immortal s/o? thxx

sun wukong + macaque

x reader 🍓⭐️🧃

-- what they do when their s/o is flirted with!!

a/n ; slowly getting through my asks rn!! sorry for the wait everyone ❤️

sun wukong;

- completely depending on his mood, he’s either really protective or just doesn’t gaf

- like if he’s in a good mood, he’ll probably joke and tease the person trying to get with you

“ohh you like like them huh bud? well go on, ask em out!”

- obviously he WILL be smirking while watching them try and fail, he takes great joy in seeing them all sad after, even going as far as to comfort them with a pat on the back

- and after that? lord knows he WILL be flirting with you in front of them, just to piss them off

- wrapping his tail around your waist while they’re behind you two, kissing your hand, showering you in compliments loudly enough for them to hear

- it was just a game to sun, he knew that you would never leave him for some sorry loser you just met

- catch him in a bad mood though? he’s not playing anymore 💔

- he’ll immediately wrap his arm around your waist while judgementally looking at whoever dared to even look at you

- he gives you a kiss on the cheek while squeezing you a little closer to him, and then look back at them

- he’ll feign a smile, “hey bud! do you mind? we’re kinda busy,” he says, his threatening tone not matching his friendly words

- they get the memo!! thank you god

macaque;

- he’s a little more nonchalant about it

- he’ll scoff and teleport to your side immediately, and just stand there, looking at them darkly while they stutter and mumble, soon giving up as the terrifying monkey’s glare continues to bore through their head as they walk away, defeated

- he’ll then give you a small kiss on the cheek and a head pat, and teleport away through a portal

- if he’s not in the mood to deal with anything, he’ll just teleport himself to you, and carry you away into one of his portals, leaving the perpetrator confused and a little nervous

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ihatemyselfhoho · 2 months ago

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Hi again yes could you know write a yandere Wukong and Macaque. The reader is from another world okay? They take inspired from oc and they only just want to go home though they actually leave everyone alone they know that this world was once fictional and well they just want to go home. Because who wouldn't? They don't want to be in this world and like they travel a lot get it? And they always use these papers though to write their spells on or more like weird symbols that have associations with different types of elements due to the fact they were trained by an ancient being. An old man named Edward get it? And the reader basically travels all over the world they want to go home but also they don't want to become the very thing they don't want to become and they just happen to run into them. The reader' always covers their face. And think of them traveling and they travel to many places to the point they document everything. In a notebook. They know how to fight they know how to fend for themselves they're actually kind and they smell like the fresh air of the forest or wood or sometimes rain because of where they travel. Their hair is actually pretty long and messy but somehow silky but it's actually very much nice to touch or braid and well yes they make their own things on their own. I hope this is enough information for you.

You were so close that they could almost touch your silky hair and breathe in the comforting scent that surrounded you. Yet, you were farther away than they realized—always chasing something or someone, endlessly crafting spells with those papers, and constantly hiding.

Wukong and Maqaque met you in different ways, but both encounters hold significant importance for them. Wukong first encountered you during the Journey to the West arc. After being scolded by his master, he stormed away to a glistening lake. You, on the other hand, were just traveling and searching for that elusive element—snow. It didn't snow much in your home region, so you decided to leave your master’s side in search of it.

As you walked through the thick wooded trees, you glanced at your map. “Hmm, it’s further away than I thought... Did I pack enough water?” you grumbled, rubbing your forehead. You checked the map again, and to your pleasant surprise, a lake wasn’t too far along the path you were taking. Quickening your pace, you pulled out your flask and smiled when you spotted a clear lake. 'How pretty! It’s too bad I can’t stay in this world,' you thought, walking closer and crouching before the water.

- “Who are you?!” a male voice shouted. You quickly stood up to see Wukong?! His fur appeared darker than in the first season of Lego Monkie Kid and a bit more... messy. 'It's attractive in a way—wait! Wasn't in the whole Journey to the West story arc, Wukong shown to be a hotheaded murderer?'

Caught up in your ordeal, Wukong managed to sneak right up next to you, staff in hand. He tilted his head, his tail swaying in annoyance at your lack of attention.

"Hello? Are you here—why are you ignoring me!" Wukong leaned on his staff, giving you an annoyed glare. You flinched before catching yourself, unsure of how to respond.

"I am the great Wukong! The Monkey King, the Great Sage equal to Heaven! So don't you dare ignore me!" he shouted, his arms waving animatedly in your face.

As you continued to fix your hood, you caught sight of Wukong's expression, a mix of annoyance and hunger. "Ah-sorry...um, I'm just gathering water...don't mind me," you replied, trying to defuse the tension.

Just as you expected him to retort, his stomach let out a loud growl. "Ugh, now I'm hungry, great," he grumbled.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced in your mind, transporting you back to your world. You remembered your little brother, that pesky little guy who used to pester you incessantly for food. Just picturing his wide smile when he finally got what he wanted, with juice dribbling down his chin, made you chuckle.

You couldn't help but wonder if Wukong shared that same kind of innocence beneath his bravado. Did he have a softer side too, one that found joy in little things?

"I have some fruits in my bag, I'm more than willing to give you one," you said as you shuffled through your bag, pulling out a ripe peach. You held it out to him, but in the blink of an eye, Wukong snatched the peach from your hand. He took a big bite, and juice splattered across your face. For a handsome monkey man, he sure ate like an animal. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight—his enthusiasm was unmistakably charming, even if it came with a bit of fruity mess!-

Wait... you shouldn't have even talked to this guy! Let alone get attached! You got caught up in memories and ended up treating him like a little brother!

"Ah— I must head along now, I have a long journey ahead of me!" you said, smiling nervously as you shuffled away. But then, a clawed hand grabbed your cloak.

"Hey, did I say you could go?" Wukong spoke, his voice more stern.

In a panic, you pulled out a spell—and poof! Smoke surrounded the area.

Wukong grunted, waving his staff around. "Woah!" He rubbed his eye before angrily shouting, "Hey! What was that for? Do you want me to pummel you into the ground—" But when his eyes cleared, they met nothing. You were gone.

A strange feeling weighed heavily in his heart. Could it be a disappointment for you to leave so suddenly? Or perhaps he already misses that rainy scent you carried with you?

Macaque met you around his shadow shows. You had been dragged by your friend, who insisted, "His show is one of the best!" With that joyful smile on her face, you hesitantly followed along.

You settled into your seat, adjusting your mask and hood as your hair flowed out like water. Twirling a silky strand around your finger, you thought, 'I would have it up, but it gets too tangled at times…'

Suddenly, the lights went out, and your friend squealed beside you. "It’s starting!" she whispered, gripping your arm tightly.

As dim lights flickered on, shadows began to crawl toward the stage. A shadow brushed against your ankle, causing you to flinch, but the initial fear soon faded into a curious realization. Wasn't there a character in Lego Monkie Kid who used shadows? What was his name? It felt like ages since you immersed yourself in this world, and the details were starting to slip away…

But that thought slipped away as the shadows formed, creating a story as it danced around, and the man on the stage spoke, his voice itching your ears pleasantly. You start to feel drowsy, as your eyes are lulled to sleep; you don’t even catch your friend saying she’ll grab some snacks to go.

A voice tickles your ear. “Was my show that boring?” The man smirked, his hood covering his eyes. Quickly jolting awake, you scramble to collect yourself.

“Ah—no! It was amazing just—” Your eyes soften. “It was comforting in a way. I remember how my father used to do shadow play with me—sure, it wasn’t as advanced as this, but!” You smile softly. “It was nice recalling that memory…”

The man paused, seemingly flattered, before catching himself. "What's your name?" But before you could answer, your friend jumped by your side with a truckload of snacks in her hands. "Hey! Let's head back to my house and we can gorge ourselves on snacks—before you go do that mysterious stuff and disappear for weeks!" she pulled you along, almost dropping the snacks.

Macaque’s gaze darkened, how annoying. His ears listened to your heartbeat, slow yet strong. Macaque sighed, why was he acting so despondent? And why... why did he crave that rainy smell close to him once again?

Wukong and Macaque think of those moments much, almost obsessively. How can one person, whose face is unknown, whose name is just a dream to hear, do so much on them? They can’t let you go so easily, not now, not ever.

Be careful on your journeys, and always make sure to double check the shadows, and question those colorful birds that watch you eagerly. You may never get back home if you don’t.

(This ended up becoming a short story, then head cannons! Sorry...but I hope you at least like it!)

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