#the beast is kind of toxic

[crazy-god-bunker-jughead]

Girl who has only read ASOIAF, watching Phantom of the Opera: "getting Sansa and the Hound vibes from this"

[musical-chick-13]

I love being nit-picky about canon until it's a character I hate. Then I love intentionally interpreting every single thing about them through the absolute worst lens possible. Because I hate them. And I love hating. Hope this helps.

[somestorythoughts]

I remember being like “ooh giant emp bomb that’s effective against droids wonder why they didn’t use it more?” And then. It greats a sinkhole the size of a city. And unleashes an ancient creature that rampages through a city. And I was like “oh. that’s why.”

That said how did these still work?

TOne of the entire show Mace:

Seriously how do those feet support it’s weight?!?!

SHoutout for this unglamourous escape cause I think its funny:

And for forcing the Chancellor to make the same unglaomourous escape

Look at it’s face. “this does not spark joy.” 

[casinoarcs]

Its always abt the wide panel but no one ever talks abt this close up where we can see chuuya is like. Fully taken aback and scared by dazai’s sudden change in demeanor.…..

[yandere-sins]

Love so toxic, it burns.

In where Diluc (my beloved) realizes he cannot endure one more day apart from you.

[Continuation of this]

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Diluc x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con turning into Dub-Con, Nipple teasing, Fondling, Bareback Sex, Creampie, Being dominated, Light dirty talk), Forced Relationship, Obsessive Love, Kidnapping, Long Post Prompt: @sintember I love you - I do I do I do I do I do.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

Your back hit the mattress, the most luxurious softness money could buy enveloping you while the grip of the most deranged, unstable mind you knew around your wrists tightened, drawing you back to reality. It felt like a fever dream, a nightmare. Finding your captor, the bane of your existence, in your room—your closet of all places—was bad enough. Cock strutting from his loosely opened pants, squirting hot semen all over your freshly washed body, was nothing short of the most horrifying experience you could have ever imagined.

And it didn't stop there.

Awfully aware of the bareness of your skin, shame in the form of heat pooled inside your head, making you burn from the inside out. You'd underestimated Diluc, thought him to be prim and proper, when really, you should have realized a long time ago what kind of beast he was. A force to be reckoned with, an animal waiting to pounce. All this time, you deemed him mad but harmless. You, on the other hand, had always been vulnerable, helpless, and exposed to his desires. You had chosen to be ignorant.

Oh, how wrong you had been.

"Let me go!" you demanded, and although ashamed, you looked Diluc straight into his eyes. There wasn't much besides a fiery glow, the red resembling rubies, smothered in flames and fueled by a sickening affection. Even when you strained your wrists in his grasp, his fingers tightening every time you freed an inch from his hold, he didn't seem to hear you, perhaps ignoring you deliberately.

You watched him swallow hard, the most recognition you had received until now, yet he didn't move. Didn't say a word. His tongue appeared between his lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you, so you reflexively turned your head away. But instead, his head lowered to your chest, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth.

Jolting, you arched your back, your body pressing upwards. Your breast molded against Diluc's face, and he moaned into it, your whole ribcage shuddering from the sound. He slipped one hand off your wrists and captured the mound from below, sucking on your nipple with even better access. And you hit back, your now free palm slamming into his shoulder repeatedly, trying to pry him off.

When his teeth found hold, you stilled in shock, gasping.

The slamming of your hand turned into nails digging into Diluc's exposed neck, clawing red marks into his skin to the point it broke. Diluc moaned, using his tongue to tease you. You hated it, you hated every one of his caresses. So why. Why, when he let go of your other hand, too, driving his own down your body, over your stomach, your hips, and between your legs, did he find wetness stuck to your skin? Allowing him to easily slip through your folds, pry at your clit that throbbed impatiently?

Had it been so long since you've been touched with something other than the dutiful skill of the personnel that dwelled in this house, that your body craved the intimacy? Did you perhaps find yourself fond of the teasing and the desire of your captor? You had avoided him so much, ignored and scorned him; you didn't even remember parts of his features, but new ones were burned into your mind now. Like the awkwardness of his tongue as it tried to taste and play with your breast at the same time, greedily lapping, or the slight shiver from his hand between your legs as it found purchase where you didn't want it.

Diluc tried to push past your entrance, and you bit your lip in a mix of disgust and desire, hard enough to taste iron on your tongue. But he hesitated, retreating and allowing you to snap your legs shut, the spreading wetness only mildly reminding you of your failure to protect yourself from him.

Tearing away from your breast, you watched as he stretched his back, standing tall before you and staring at your juices coating most of his hand. Said hand tentatively raised to his face, and with a shuddering breath, he seemed to lose all composure, licking square over his palm like a thirsty dog. You watched in horrifying awe as he groaned, head falling to the side, a distant look on his face as he cast his gaze downwards.

Yours followed, unable to look away.

Spreading his hand wide open, you saw the strings of juices and drool netting in the gaps between his fingers, yet he enveloped his cock in it without hesitation, mixing your juices on top of the bopping, eager monstrosity impatiently waiting for its turn. It seemed like a rough jerk as he pumped his hand up and down, but you soon heard the squelching of wet skin, involuntarily making you clasp your legs together even tighter, your core filling with warmth.

You had to get away.

Fear filled you, unfiltered, pure panic rising. There was a slowly rising sense of desire clawing its way out of the depths you put it in, but no matter how much you pushed back, it grew bigger and stronger with every stroke of Diluc's hand on his cock. Adrenaline flooded your blood, and you could feel every muscle tense to the point of almost snapping apart. You had to do something—kick, punch, scream! Anything to make him stop.

Diluc had said nothing and didn't make his intention clear verbally. But as you watched him vigorously stroke his cock while looking at the triangle formed by your pussy and legs, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

Your body was already maltreated, bitten, licked, and touched in ways you didn't want to be. Diluc had already made you miserable with his passion, flooded your senses with jolts of joy that weren't his to induce. You owed this man nothing. He was a pitiful piece of shit. He didn't deserve to see or give you pleasure—much less join you in it. And you couldn't continue to let him treat you this way.

Treat you as if you belonged to him.

But instead of kicking, only your eyes widened as he sunk to his knees, cock still tightly gripped in his hand, and for the first time since this assault started, he looked up at you, saw you. Recognized the fear, anger, and anxiety raging inside of you. But instead of regret and sorrow like usually—the reluctance he showed even though he wanted to be with you—all you saw in his expression was the unwavering determination of a man that was sure of what he was doing. Someone who had made up his mind. The most dangerous beast of them all.

"Open your legs," he demanded, placing a threatening hand on one of your knees. "Show me how wet you are. That you are ready for me."

He'd never spoken to you like this in all the time you've been with him. You'd never heard him order you for his own pleasure—or perhaps he always had, and you simply ignored it. But this time, it made you shiver. Shiver like only someone expecting to have sex would. A pang of betrayal of your own body went through you, forcing a shuddering breath from your lips that was met with a sigh from Diluc's. And then, for just a moment, Diluc broke the mesmerizing spell as he added a miserable, "Please."

Please tell me you're ready. Please let me fuck you. Please end my suffering.

One word, so many meanings, and you wondered why you'd even considered for a moment doing it. To avoid the fight? Get your own needs met? Feel something for a change instead of the daily, monotonous boredom you had long made peace with?

"Why would I?" you returned the question, and you saw his determination falter, the moment ruined as was the mood. Usually, that would be enough to break his spirit, put Diluc back in his place, and remind him of what kind of person he was.

But not this time.

"Because otherwise, I will pry them open, bruise your beautiful skin if I must to get what I want. I will own you tonight. Will make you mine, so every time I come into this room from today onwards, you'll be reminded of what I did to you tonight. So that you'll be wet forever more, desperate to feel me inside again."

He gulped, his own words registering in his mind. "I'll make you love me tonight, so you know what it's like to crave someone to the point it makes you mad. And you will enjoy it, so don't make me repeat it again. Open your legs."

A battle ensued inside of you, a war so ferocious and unkind between your need to stay in control and the want to let go of it. Here was someone devoted, obsessed with you, ready to fulfill your every need despite the horrors he made you endure daily. You could use him, enjoy it, and perhaps gain some will to live afterward if the longing for human touch and love was finally soothed. But could you live with the shame? Remembering his hands, his mouth, his cock? Could your mental health withstand the presence of your captor burned into your mind?

Did it make a difference which one you chose?

You'd be miserable either way. He'd not stop even if you didn't obey. He'd not vanish, whether it meant taking you willingly or unwillingly. His presence would still be burned inside your mind, still eat at your table, still try to make small talk even if you didn't answer him. You'd not be better off just because you kept your dignity. Pride meant nothing in this house where no one recognized you as a free, self-owned person.

You'd long been defeated, you simply didn't want to recognize it.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you slowly unfurled your clasped legs, Diluc's shameless gaze falling to his place of desire. You caught him sniffing the air before he groaned, the pumping of his hand below your line of sight getting even more vicious. You fell back into the mattress, sobbing behind your hand, muffling the sound. Still, the misery that threatened to overtake you was cut down violently by the pleasure your compliance brought.

Diluc surged forward, burying his head between your legs. You felt all of his face nestled against the hot, sensitive skin of your pussy, lips trembling against yours while his breath burned away your own heat. His nose was stuck at the top of your folds, clashing with your clit ever so often as he let his jaw slack, tongue starting roaming from the very bottom to the top, slurping up all the leakage he could reach.

You were torn from your defeat when Diluc's mouth found the pleasure of wrapping around your clit, sucking it in. He didn't need teeth nor tongue to make your fingers grasp for his hair; didn't need support as you arched your back. Yet he grabbed your waist with the devotion of a lover and pleasured you once he found the holy grail of sensitivity between your legs.

By the time your feet curled and breathless moans and shrieks escaped you, those legs were wrapped around his head, his breath now matching the heat from your pussy, and his worshipping forcing an explosion. It was a high you were reluctant to come down from. But thanks to Diluc, the crash wasn't a crash at all. It was a slowly drawn-out symphony that got quieter the longer he directed it until it faded with a pleasant tingle left behind.

Your eyes met as he rose above you, staring down at your undone form. Your chests were heaving with the severity of what had just happened, the chemistry you'd denied so long having served its purpose. Sometimes, you feared, it was true that fucking your enemy was the one unforgivable sin that gave more than it took. There was only one thing left now. One eager, lonely thing.

When Diluc hoisted your legs back over his shoulders, grabbing your midriff to move you further up the bed, you didn't move an inch, didn't help him. What he wanted, he needed to earn. If he wanted to have you so badly, he had to do the work for it. And he did. Never grumbling, never complaining while he left trails of kisses behind as he hovered above you, positioning the tip of his cock to your entrance.

The moment you did move, did struggle was as he pressed forward, burying himself inside of you in a long, dragging motion. You'd just come, your sensitivity tightening everything, and his cock, on the other hand, was an underestimated mass invading you. A feeling of fullness, paired with the moans from both of your mouths, was something you'd never again forget. The way he was bulging you out from inside, the throb as his cock threatened to explode right then and there, and the desperate wrapping of your walls to keep yourself sane and safe from the overstimulation.

It was all etched inside of you now, whether you wanted it.

This would be the only dick you could ever have. A burning hot rod of love. Dragging his hips back caused you to cry out and Diluc to groan, but all sounds vanished as he snapped it back in place, sinking every inch into you. You may have hated this man, but you had been wrong not to believe him when he said he'd make you remember this every time you'd see him.

How could you possibly forget?

"I love you!" he grunted, slamming his shaft back inside. "I love you! I love you!"

With every confession, his pace quickened, words of adoration raining down on you while his cock forged its shape into your pussy. The heat was unbearable, desire stoking flames and sending them straight to your core that buzzed with delight. Your orgasm was so close, but so was his. The man you hated more than anything ever in your life had now burned his place inside you and made sure to keep all his promises.

You were his now, for however long this moment was to last.

He came to own your body and, with the second orgasm, also your mind.

Making you forever remember the feeling of his hot seed spurting inside you as he held you tightly against him, your spasms only driving his cock further inside.

You screamed and rejoiced, laughed and choked on your own sobs at the same time. It was sad. The joy, the pleasure, and the sounds of ecstasy were sad reminders of how Diluc had won. How his disgusting, abusive love had spread like venom through you. He didn't move from you for a long time, but when he did, the feeling of his jizz running down your legs felt like poison—like pure toxin—against your skin.

Toxin that had befuddled your mind by making you crave pleasure—crave the feeling of being loved. Diluc was kissing you over and over, even as his cock slipped out of you while he tried to cover more of your body with his own, pressing you against himself with a sort of desperation. As if he had to feel as much as possible, or else he might regret not getting his fill of you.

But everywhere your skin touched his, it burned. The heat of his body, the tongue working inside your mouth, his cock rubbing over your tender, exposed pussy. You were increasingly convinced he was secreting some kind of toxin, perhaps his pheromones or simply his love for you.

Because you let him.

That night, you let him do as he pleased, kiss what he wanted, fuck you as much as he desired. As if you had lost your mind.

Because just this once, you craved it. Craved his attention, his devotion, the way he allowed you to let go and forget the awful situation you were in just for one night. You had allowed him to show you how to crave him in the same way he longed for you. And although you'd regret it in the morning, you didn't let him leave your bed that night—leave you.

Even though you knew his flames—his love—would burn you alive one day as you stoked the fire again and again.

[cinnbar-bun]

Monster (JoFoes x Reader)

Characters: Dio Brando (PB), Kars, DIO (SDC), Yoshikage Kira, Diavolo, Enrico Pucci, and Funny Valentine (sorry I have not finished JJL yet so no [spoiler])

Prompt: "He's a wolf in disguise / But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes."

Summary: Their "love" for you comes in many different, untraditional ways. Some more dangerous than the others.

Rating: Mixture of SFW + NSFW, but please mind the warnings.

Notes: Reader is GN! and no specific body parts are mentioned for them. Spoilers I guess for their plans? Reader is a human in all of them, Reader replaces Shinobu + Hayato's roles, not much NSFW for Pucci's part in all honesty, FV is a widower (no Scarlet involved).

Warnings: Toxic relationships, MAJOR power imbalances for all of them (maybe minus Kira's). Heavy religion mentions for Pucci (although Reader is not specified to be Christian). This isn't soft or lovey-dovey (but I can do one later), so pleaseeeeee do not read if those kinds of topics make you uncomfortable.

Word Count: ~4.5k (kill me I lost my mind writing this)

Read on my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, fill out the form in my pinned): @adeadcreator @bruabbina @gingernut1314 @over--heaven

Dio Brando (Phantom Blood) 

He most likely was pursuing you long before the mask ever took hold of him. He didn’t do it out of pure love- more likely it was for entertainment and as a chance to hold another thing over Jonathan. 

Dio despises how Jonathan attempts to be friendly with you and often will do what it takes to turn you against the poor guy. 

He doesn’t even know why he is so adamant Jonathan stays away from you, even more so than with anyone else. He feels a possessiveness towards you that cannot be contained or described in words. 

He masks most of his disturbing thoughts and possessiveness for you underneath a facade of charming elegance. He’ll play the part of a picture perfect boyfriend for as long as he needs to. 

But even he has to admit he has trouble holding back all these disgusting feelings for you. You frustrate him in a way few ever have and ever will. 

Despite his haughty attitude over Jonathan and his eagerness to get ahead, Dio is actually grossed out by himself tremendously with you. He recognizes after getting wasted once again that he is just like his bastard of a father, Dario, and it settles in a gross pit in the bottom of his stomach. 

It’s wretched, honestly. While he continuously acts bigger and better than ever to get you to fall further for him, he refuses intimacy or overtly physical gestures. Sharing Dario’s blood with this body makes him sickened at attempting to do anything like that with you. 

Compared to his earlier brazen behavior, when he begins to get possessive and attached to you, he almost retreats and refuses to allow himself the chance at intimacy with you. 

However… once he puts on the mask and rejects his humanity, Dio becomes a whole new wicked beast. 

While he still has sentimental feelings for you, his aggressiveness grows almost tenfold. 

Likes to have you sit on his lap while he strokes your head and monologues about his ideals or shows you horrifying imagery. 

Blood. Lots of blood. 

You’re the only one he attempts to keep alive and refuses to let the others feed off of. If you are to ever be used as sustenance, it is by him and him alone. He gets actively violent against his subordinates if they even think of touching you.

In this stage, he’s more open to intimacy. A bit more, but not at his full peak (we’ll get to that later). 

However, the arousal he has is mostly fueled by his bloodlust and hunger. Feedings of you tend to occur after one of his many minions causes some chaos or he gets word of more destruction and feels a possessive streak. 

He is pretty sensual, taking his time to showcase how much stronger he is, how much better he is now that he has become an undead horror of the night. But that sensuality is still layered with a hint of hunger and obsessiveness towards you that he cannot contain. 

He’s less controlled about his feelings now towards you. His eccentricities make him more likely to just take you randomly at anytime without a care of what is going on around him. And he will verbally tell you them aloud now, enabled by his own inhumanity. 

“I can smell your fear, darling. Your heart is pounding fast… tell me, do you desire something more than this innocent petting, dear?” 

Loves to bite you and leave marks on you. He likes to have his fangs scratch against your skin before he sucks on that spot. His favorite places include your neck but also in more hidden places like your inner thighs. 

Your blood is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He’s addicted to the taste and savors it more than a fine wine. He has to remind himself to take it easy because as much as he loves your taste, you’re still mortal and he has to keep you alive. 

Kars 

As a Pillar Man, he does not think highly of humans like you. You are a mere mortal, and where you belong is below him. Hardly even worth a glance at all. 

But for some reason, despite your status, he found himself protecting you from an encounter with someone trying to rob you late at night. He doesn’t even know why he jumped in to do so, but the look of reverence and awe in your eyes at his display of strength made him… intrigued. 

He doesn’t hold back. He tells you everything, because, really, what are you going to do about it? You couldn’t escape even if you tried. 

And now, you live your life as his human… pet? Partner? Servant? Thing…? 

He’s very unclear about it. Some days he ignores you, and other days he mulls over his thoughts to you while he strokes your head. 

Kars rarely ever gets aroused. He’s not a primitive beast and he’s very focused on his goals. 

But, intellectually, he is curious about how you behave around him. He kind of likes the attention you give him and he recognizes how you’re affected by him physically. 

One thing he’s super proud of? His voice. He knows how his voice can turn you on and drive you mad. He likes to get close to your and have his breath tickle your skin before he whispers words of praise for you doing so well for him. 

“Oh, little one, you’re shivering. Are you afraid? Or are you excited?” 

His favorite thing is to get you incredibly aroused while barely touching you. 

Enjoys you riding his thigh- you look like a wanton little beast who can barely contain themself from him. 

Kars likes you vocal, so that means you better be moaning, groaning, gasping, sobbing, and thanking him loudly. He doesn’t care who hears. If you try to hold your voice back he gets rougher to have you be louder. 

Most of your intimate encounters will be him getting you off in order to humiliate yourself/hear you praise him. But in the few times he does find himself craving your body, be prepared. 

He is huge. That doesn’t need to be stated but he’s big. Muscular. Strong. Tall. And he’s got full control of nearly every fiber of his body. As the perfect being, he knows he’s well-endowed and uses it to his advantage. 

Some days he’s merciful and likes to take his time and prepare you. He’ll coo to you as if you are a mindless little animal (you probably will be after how well he stimulates you) and praise you for taking him so well.

“How precious. Control your breaths, pet. You can’t be this exhausted when we’ve barely begun yet. Now… relax yourself.” 

Other days, he’s merciless and will use you without abandon. His cruelty and dominating nature comes out full force. 

“Hmph, is this how you treat your new god? Beg better, or I’ll stop. You should be grateful I even deign to touch your mortal body.” 

Although he insists he is not affected by your presence or that you are but a toy for him to entertain himself with, if someone were to threaten to harm or take you back (ie. Joseph/Caesar), he will step in and put an end to that foolish thought. 

“It is unwise of you to think that you will take what is mine away from me.” 

DIO (Stardust Crusaders)

A Dio fully in touch with his desires with little remorse or care. This new body of his makes him more confident and lecherous. 

The many ‘victims’ that take up his bedchambers are usually fodder he disposes of quickly. And the ones that are ‘lucky’ enough to escape are very few. 

You happen to be fortunately (or unfortunately) be his favorite. And being Dio’s favorite means many things. 

You get special privileges almost no one else receives. Only you are allowed to caress and touch him so brazenly and easily, and only you can get somewhat mouthy with him. 

He spoils you with fancier foods and drinks to fill you to your heart’s content. While others can argue over scraps, he gives you the opportunity to sit on his lap and feed him. And if he’s feeling nice, he’ll feed you too. 

You also are practically immune to anything, so long as you keep remaining his favorite. If a minion tries something with you? Dead. Someone from the ‘harem’ insults you? Dead. Hell, a bird made too loud of a noise? Dead. He finds it hilarious to inflict damage due to his whims and somewhat twisted obsession with you. 

“Hoh? Does it please you, knowing your lord is willing to go to such lengths to keep you safe? Now, what will you do to showcase how pleased you are?” 

Most people catch on very quickly to stay away from you, lest they face an untimely death. 

But it does mean he expects you to serve his every whim quickly. He’s so demanding with you, annoyingly so, actually, and he does it to mess with you. You’re his favorite but he will still be a joker with you. 

He feeds on you often, but is in enough control to reign himself from taking all your blood. Sometimes he “jokes” that he just wants to drain you dry, but it’s up in the air. 

Dio is pretty selfish in bed. Often he lays back and expects you to ride him, like a good pet should do for their lord. Go on, earn your keep. 

He enjoys clawing at your skin and caressing the scratches he leaves on you later on. 

Is not ashamed of making a public spectacle of you if he feels like it. Get used to him continuing to pound into you while Hol Horse attempts to give him a report update. 

He takes his frustration and anger out on you physically. When he gets news that the Crusaders have foiled another batch of minions, he might go get his violent (and bloody) fill with a few random mortals, then return to you and sternly tell you to get on your knees. The stone cold expression on his face makes the room drop a few degrees and he will not talk much in these sessions. 

Dio likes putting you in difficult situations for the thrill of it. Your reactions are always interesting, solidifying his interest in you. 

He does admit that he’d probably never put you first above his plans (which he seldom talks about except when you two are relaxing after an intense night) and sardonically chuckles that he may enjoy you now, but it can all change if you stop being ‘fun’ for him. 

But when Hol Horse attempts to grab you to threaten Dio, Dio’s face hardens in a way no one has ever seen before, and Hol Horse immediately aborts the plan. You’ve never seen Dio look that terrifying before. 

He doesn’t speak of that event again, instead telling you to return to the room and stay there. 

Expect him to keep him closer and have a tighter grip around you. 

Yoshikage Kira 

Hiding in plain sight has never been so easy for Kira after having his face switched with the poor sucker at Cinderella salon. 

He could lie a bit longer, play pretend as a dutiful husband as this random man whose appearance he has taken. 

He returns home to see you, the partner of the man he just took over, and he knows he’s in for trouble. He’s going to have to not only fend off suspicion from everyone else in town, but especially within his own home. He no longer has a safe space and it frustrates him. 

He has never been in a formal romantic relationship, but he attempts to act ‘normal’, keeping some distance but still ‘polite’. 

You don’t seem to suspect much- or maybe you’re just so happy to see some changes in your former husband- and always like to chat with Kira. At first he finds it dull and grating, despising how you talk about nothing useful. 

But he can’t be too bland, so he’ll respond back. Usually one word responses and the like just to satiate you enough to get him off his back. 

However, you’ll occasionally discuss a topic he is more interested in and then he’ll give you more of his personal opinion on the subject. Kira didn’t expect to find some comfort with having another person to share these discussions with. 

And while he hated the fact his normal schedule before acting as your husband changed, he slowly starts to grow fond of his new routine with you. Waking up and receiving a goodbye kiss before he goes off to work has become his new morning energizer. Coming home to see the table set with you waiting for him makes the nights a bit more pleasant. 

He’ll never really recognize if he enjoys this for real or if he’s doing this to keep up the act of a ‘good husband’. He’ll just let the days continue to go on like this while he loses the others off his back. 

Although, one thing that really took him off guard was your heavy affection and sexual desires for him. You have nice hands, he’ll give you that, but he was so taken aback by your behavior. Apparently, throughout the whole night when you dressed up extra nice for him and made him his favorite meal and were complimenting him and swooning over him- that supposedly meant you wanted to take him to the room for some bed breaking action. 

He honestly was so shocked that this was what your behavior meant and he had take a moment to recollect himself. Kira declined that first night because he truly has never had sex with another person, less so someone he was pretending to be married to. He was not mentally prepared for that to be thrown at him.

After calming himself down in a few days, he does attempt to be more physically intimate with you. 

Yeah he’s mostly focused on your hands at first. He still doesn’t recognize if he actually loves you yet, but he won’t decline you giving him a handjob or stroking your hands over his toned body. And he’s always ready to be licking your hands. 

After a few more times of these rather awkward and selfish sessions, he does pay it back and begins to explore your body more. He finds himself fascinated with how your chest rises and falls with every shaky breath and moan you let out. He likes the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

His compulsive tendencies do appear in the bedroom, and he does let them out, but they honestly come off as roleplay. It’s kinda hot to hear your normally calm husband just huff and lecture you while he bends your body around roughly to ‘set you straight’.  

“Enough of that. Seriously, can you not even put yourself together correctly? If you can’t dress properly, then don’t bother wearing anything at all.” 

He’s way too deep into this marriage life with you, getting extra frustrated if anyone dares to disturb whatever you two have going on. 

Diavolo 

He falls in lust first. He hasn’t learned his lesson from the last time. Diavolo is a heavy believer in the concept of ‘Fate’, but he believes he is the ‘King’ who can overcome it. 

Surely… ‘fate’ wanted you to be his subordinate. 

You do a wonderful job, you never ask any questions that are unnecessary, and you never stray too far from what he’s asked. You always manage to get the job done in your own, unique way. 

You’re his most trusted subordinate (underneath Doppio), and Diavolo can’t help but feel that selfish urge to contain you as a part of him forever. You’re attractive, so cunning, and so loyal to him- something that makes him believe you were meant to be ‘his’. 

He’s run from his past for so long, but that makes him cocky. If you were to somehow lose his interest, he surely would overcome this ‘challenge’ and defy your fate, too. You’ll never know what hit you. Not to mention, he completely believes he’ll be able to keep you in check and under his thumb. He’s learned that much from his time.

So he lets himself be known to you, after all, good servants deserve some ‘rewards’ from their king, do they not? 

He is a cruel man in bed, doing almost everything in his power to exert his control over you and dominate you. 

Bondage, toys, threats, punishments, and even using King Crimson are not too out of line for this sadist. 

He enjoys overstimulating you, loving the way you babble nonsense and tell him it’s ‘too much’. 

The louder and messier it is, the better. Anything to show you who is the one in control and in charge, and where your proper place as his most devoted servant is. 

He insists on a BDSM lifestyle outside of the bedroom too. Diavolo is not short on funds, so he’ll gift you an expensive accessory (probably with built in tracking on it) as a ‘reminder’ of who you belong to. 

But knowing Diavolo, it’s a veiled threat. Fail to comply with his demands, fail to be entertaining to him, or worst of all, fail to keep his trust- you’ll be dealt with swiftly. Choose wisely when he ‘graciously’ lets you roam free. 

He’s pretty giving otherwise. His constant jumping from villa to villa or hotel makes him take you with him and allow you some luxuries in those areas. You will always have a private suite away from the rabble and be able to relax. 

Diavolo finds it sweet that you’ll trace the paisley tattoos/markings on his arm (sorry I like tattoos so uh-). He’ll let you do it for a bit, all while smirking down at you in amusement. 

“Enjoying yourself, tesoro mio?” 

Gets incredibly angry at the thought of someone touching you or finding you. Not purely out of love- but as a desire to keep you to him. If someone figured out your relationship with him, he’d have to swiftly deal with them and possibly you to keep himself hidden. 

He does trust Doppio to escort you and take care of you, allowing him to be perhaps the only other person to see you physically and take you around wherever Diavolo needs you to be taken. 

Surprisingly, Diavolo likes to listen to the opera and will play some records for you both to listen to while you both unwind or he is working on mundane things for Passione. 

Enrico Pucci 

A master manipulator who believes everything he’s doing is for your own good. He meets in the prison- you’re down on your luck, but you’re earnest and seeking redemption. How could he not want to give you the peace you’ve been searching for? 

As the chaplain of Green Dolphin, he does get more access to you than others get, as well as allowing you the chance to take a break from your prison activities to talk or assist him. 

He believes the chance meeting with you, you who was so pitiful in the chapel and begging for anything to comfort you in your hard time, was another mechanization of “gravity”. 

It was simply fate to meet you, and it was fated that he had to be the one to save you. Perhaps this was a second chance at something he needed to do to be redeemed. Perhaps this was him seeing a kindred spirit within you.

Pucci takes it upon himself to offer you counsel or give you a moment of reprise. Once you two get closer, he begins to encourage more discussion and debate from you. 

“Humans are powerless to oppose fate. Wouldn’t you agree on that?” 

But Pucci is obviously not the completely helpful priest he acts as, as his more sinister and rough behaviors come out the more he is ‘pulled’ to you. 

Pucci does continue to use Whitesnake as a mouthpiece, often to voice more ‘warnings’ to you so you do not get scared of Pucci directly. Obviously Whitesnake is just a separate being from Pucci, and you have nothing to worry about, because you obviously were not planning on doing anything to jeopardize Pucci’s goals or ideals, right? 

He uses his authority and standing in Green Dolphin to get his way. Whether it is ridding of annoying prisoners or guards who bother you, or having you isolated as ‘punishment’ for perhaps doing something he didn’t like, Pucci will pull as many strings as he must. 

Only he has your best interests in mind, and only he is the one who can give you salvation and the hope you long for. He is your ‘fate’ so long as you comply. 

He has to admit, he is curious to get your Memory DISC to see all your memories. But he recognizes that would possibly be a step too far (he has some boundaries, he thinks) and attempts to get you to admit your memories on your own. 

Incredibly attentive and will recall anything you’ve told him with 100% accuracy. It can be comforting and nice when you want to vent or talk to him. Do not think you can lie your way around him, though. Whether you’ve intentionally lied to him or not, he will promptly correct you and tell you to be truthful. 

Pucci believes the Heaven Plan will save you and make you more willing to accept your fate. He confesses to you that what he’s doing will make you happier, will make you more free, and will make your tears dry up. 

Although he says that, sometimes, when he looks at you, he does get those same feelings from before he met Dio. Those dreams of running away, running far away and committing blasphemous acts with you, much like those of the novels he’s read. He brushes them aside and counts prime numbers to rid himself of those ideas. He’s so close to his goal. 

“Enough, Pucci. Enough. You’ve committed to this. You’re doing this for the good of humanity. Even if it’s hard, they’ll understand. They’ll come to learn to love their new life and accept their fate with a smile.” 

Funny Valentine 

Funny prioritizes public appearance and his goals over his private life. Despite Scarlet being gone from the picture, he isn’t all that distraught. But being a ‘widower’ does give him some sympathy from the public that he uses to leverage good PR. 

And you are such a helpful assistant to him. You always have everything under control, every plan together, and whatever he may need quickly finished and given to him without him having to utter a word. 

That competence is quite attractive to him, more so than your physical features (which he does enjoy and did catch his eye before). 

He thinks to himself as a joke that he’d just adore having multiple copies of you running around the White House (and in the room) thanks to D4C, but he knows how dangerous it would be to play with your life like that. You’re so useful to him now, so he’ll care for you. 

Funny pulls lots of all-nighters, especially during the Steel Ball Run, and that means, likewise, you are too, as his devout assistant. This does mean he’s more tired, but also more personable than his stern public face. 

Sometimes he rambles about anecdotes from his time in the army or working as a senator. Sometimes he’ll tell a bad joke that makes you laugh from the fact that the strong president would say such a strange thing out of nowhere. But sometimes, he’ll admit how lonely it is, being the most powerful man in America. Especially without anyone beside him. 

He takes advantage of the sob story he has to get you to be more vulnerable with him. And when you comfort him and offer him some help, he is quite happy internally that you did exactly what he hoped you’d do, but outwardly acts humble. 

“How kind of you, dear. You needn’t worry about my nonsense, though. You aren’t on my payroll to be my personal therapist. I already stress you enough, as is.” 

But you insist and who is he to deny you? 

It doesn’t take long after that for your relationship to go beyond professional boundaries. A touch here, a longing gaze there- and Funny has to admit he enjoys the thrill of having a secret affair going on with his assistant right under the nose of the rest of the workers there. 

And, scandalously, Funny is a freak. A really freaky guy. 

Don’t get fooled by his professional nature and good posture that he displays for the newspapers. Funny is perhaps the most experimental and freaky man on the list, willing to try almost anything at least once (and it does give a good excuse to take you to his chambers). 

He indulges in plenty of kinks; bondage, domination (whether you or him), roleplay, exhibitionism- it doesn’t matter. 

But he will try to reign himself in because he is the president, even if he’d love nothing more than to have you on his desk and weeping for him. His biggest kink is roleplay, and in private, he will want to be addressed differently. This must go on at all times behind closed doors. Failure to adhere to his rules or attempting to embarrass him publicly will result in punishment. 

“You little brat! Have I not been clear on what you were to do? Or were you hoping I would take matters into my own hands? Hm, since you seem to enjoy acting so improper, perhaps I shall reteach you manners. Lay down, now. I hope you’re prepared for what’s coming.” 

Funny can look calm during any arguments he has with you, thus making him a tough man to debate. He is authoritative and believes he knows what’s best. While some backtalk is fine for the most part, after a while he puts his foot down and tells you to stop. 

But then you two see each other after you’ve calmed down, and he holds you while apologizing. He’ll insist he loves you very, very much, but he’s just under so much stress and while you may have your heart in the right place, there are some things that just can’t go as you like. 

Possessive when it comes to you, keeping you monitored by guards and by his side almost 24/7. You weren’t planning on betraying the country you love so much, were you, dear?

[bigfatbimbo]

What do you think Bill would do to purposely frustrate a powerful reader?

It’s Tough to be a God

a/n — I got another request about how this would affect ‘subspace’ for Bill, so that’s happening later 😁

warnings — SFW, toxic relationships, manipulation

summary — Bill Cipher x Powerful!Reader headcanons

⃤ A reader that’s more powerful Bill is something i’ve rarely seen touched on, but it would absolutely make for an interesting dynamic.

⃤ I’m not the first person to say he’d feel some kind of competition with the reader, but there would be a kind of rivalry there, powers-wise.

⃤ He wouldn’t be insecure, per se, but he wouldn’t particularly love the idea that you’re better than him. 

⃤ A more powerful reader would invoke a subtle sense of curiosity within him too; Why exactly are you more powerful, anyways? What can you do? How can he use it?

⃤ He’d definitely egg you on, ‘I bet you can’t do this’ etc, to see what you’re capable doing, and what powers you’re willing to ‘throw around.’

⃤ But when he’s trying to make you mad, there’s a multitude of things he can do. Being annoying is truly one of his specialties.

⃤ Obviously, nothing to far. He still needs you on his side. 

⃤ But you’d be doing something important and all of a sudden, someone is repeatedly poking your cheek. “boop.”

⃤ If you have an important job in the multiverse, he might purposely setback your work, hide papers, move things around. 

⃤ He’d start fights with other beings in your name, forcing you to confront them, and display exactly how mighty your power is.

⃤ And he does like watching you fight. 

⃤ Obviously, majority of his efforts would be secretive, as he doesn’t particularly want you to end him.

⃤ But when you do lash out at him, he finds it.. exciting. He’s not normally at other peoples mercy, and sometimes, it’s a thrill.

⃤ Just as long as he can tame the beast. 

⃤ Although, there is always the idea of the reader being the one pulling the strings, even if he doesn’t know it. 

[milla-frenchy]

Wolf like me

2k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: you meet someone who finally fills the void in you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Darkish. rough sex, oral (m/f), facial, self abandonment, toxic relationship, possessiveness, jealousy, spitting, biting, manhandling, unprotected piv, rimming, ass play, anal, creampie, reader is looking for pain, Joel is not particularly nice and not caring either. No age specified. a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for beta-ing me, and hearing me whine 😭💕🫶 There are Joels that are particularly physically powerful, brutal, and sexually aggressive. I call them “beast!Joel” 😍🥵 Here they are: Carnal @pascalsbby | Daddy Joel & A day in the filth @toxicanonymity | Lost in the dark @iamasaddie. Thank you for these awesome fics 🙏❤️ Here’s mine :) The title is from Wolf like me by TV on the radio

ao3 | masterlist | part 2

Joel was pretty well known at the QZ. He had the reputation of a distant man, not meddling in other people's affairs and hating people meddling in his own. He carried out the worst tasks, those that paid the most. It was impossible to know what shenanigans he was getting into with Tess, the woman he was often seen with. Impossible to know why he sometimes met FEDRA soldiers on the sidelines, but without really hiding it, as if he knew that no one would dare bother him.

You worked for Robert and you knew that his relationship with Joel was tense. So for some time now, when Robert needed something from Joel, he went through you. Every time you met him, Joel lived up to his reputation. He grumbled more than spoke, he was not very verbose, he did not bother with manners and was barely polite. He used to roll his eyes an embarrassing number of times at you, like you were the stupidest person in the world. However, he didn't impress you, and one day, you caught a grin when you responded to him in a biting tone.

That’s probably how you ended up on your knees in front of him one evening, his cock in your mouth and his fist clenched in your hair. His massive hand on the back of your head holding you exactly how he wanted, while he was fucking your throat without worrying about the tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

He let go of you, and ordered you to get on the bed, “cheek against the pillow and ass in the air.” 

You looked up at him, without immediately obeying, and he pointed to the bed with his chin. You got up and settled in, unable to resist his directive tone. When he knelt behind you, his fat cock in his hand, ready to push it into your core, you freed yourself from his hand, asking him to wait.

“Wait for what exactly, little girl?”

In someone else's mouth, this pet name might have been cute. Or kind. But in his, you felt like a helpless little thing in the hands of a man much more powerful than you.

“Wait until I’m prepared,” you whispered.

“Do you think I’m gonna make love to you, baby girl?”

He tilted his head to the side, waiting for your response which didn't come.

“Cause I don’t make love. I fuck hard. So either you take my fuckin’ cock the way I wanna give it to you, or you get the fuck outta here.”

You let him fuck you the way he wanted, your teeth digging into the flesh of your hand to keep you from screaming, while his fingers were firmly buried in the flesh of your hips. He pulled out just before he came, grabbing your arm for you to follow him to the side of the bed. His feet planted on the ground, he jerked himself into his clenched fist until spurts of cum covered your face.

Stunned by his animality, you didn't move before he pushed you down onto the floor, and he plunged into you, his tongue dipping into your aching pussy. He ate you as he had fucked you just before: like a hungry beast devouring its wounded prey. His fingers were everywhere, on your clit, in your pussy and in your ass. Yours were buried in his curls, clawing at his scalp, making him grunt against your folds until you came, exhausted, and finally relaxed your muscles that had been contracting until then, under the assaults he had inflicted on you.

Of course, he didn't walk you home. He didn’t even say a word to you, to be honest. He barely watched you wipe away the cum that was still on your cheeks.

You continued to meet Joel on Robert's behalf, and you returned to his apartment several times.

Every time he fucked you, you felt like you were being tossed around in dark waters, the movement of which seemed strangely familiar to you. And above all, the feeling gave you the confirmation that you were still alive.

Joel wanted to own, to take. And you wanted to be owned, creating a perfect balance between you. You were giving him everything he wanted. Your body was always adapting to his, whatever hole he thrusted into. He probably licked and smelled every inch of your skin. Left bite marks on your body, as if his cock deep inside you wasn't enough, as if he needed to sink his teeth into your skin. Needed to show everyone that you were his. That you had been claimed. “I want you to use my body whenever and however you want”, you told him once. And he did. Days after days.

As soon as you closed the door to his apartment behind you, you felt that the atmosphere was heavier than usual. He was sitting near the dining room table, facing the front door, and you.

“Who was it?”, he asked, in an annoyed voice, so low you barely heard him, while his fist was clenched on the table.

"Who are you talking about?"

“That boy, with you near the guardhouse this afternoon.” He spat out the sentence, his jaw clenched, the sound of his voice barely reaching your ears.

“He’s one of Robert’s guys, he’s not a boy,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. He stood up suddenly and slammed you against the wall with surprising agility for a man of his build. His hand pressed against your throat, his face lowered towards you, you only saw his dark eyes.

“You let him fuck you?” he growled, tightening his grip on your throat.

“No, damn, Joel…”, you whispered.

He released his grip slightly and breathed down your neck, then moved up to your ear, as if to make sure that he would only smell your scent on you.

“Mine,” he murmured, his nose in your hair, his hand sliding from your throat to one of your breasts which he grabbed.

“Yours”, you breathed in his ear, your hand clinging to his bicep.

“I’m gonna be brutal, baby doll.”

“I know.”

He unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his hard cock, before grabbing your thighs and lifting you off the ground. He pushed aside the panties under your dress, and positioned his tip at your entrance. He looked at you, daring you with his gaze to tell him to wait. But it’s been a long time now since you asked him to be prepared. You only wanted to feel him more. Always more. And the faster he plunged into you, the more intoxicating the sensation was.

He sank in, his gaze boring into yours as his cock split your pussy. In one push he bottomed out. He pulled back almost all the way and thrusted in again, after tilting his pelvis so that you impaled yourself as deep as possible on his shaft. Breathless, you grabbed his shoulders to try to ease the way you were taking his cock. But he placed his arm against your back and tightened his hand on the back of your neck, trapping you in his embrace. He pounded you against the wall, and you were whimpering at each stroke of his cock.

“You’re mine”, he said again, thrusting in. “You belong to me, only my cock can fuck this cunt. You hear me, little girl?”

“Fuck… Yes Joel! Just you.”

“Not only your cunt. Everything. I want only my smell on you.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand, looking at you questioningly. You nodded and said “only you.”

“Good girl. Come here.”

He released you and grabbed your arm, squeezing it way too tightly with his large hand, before throwing you onto the bed. He was standing in front of you, his pants just under his balls, still covering his thick thighs. His hand was tight on his cock, glistening with your wetness. You could see the vein in his neck pulsing.

He spat into his palm before jerking off harshly while watching you.

“Joel”, you whimpered. “Please I want-”

“You’ll have that cock when I’ll give it to you”, he cut you off.

“Please Joel, use me”, you whined again.

“Jesus, you need my cock that bad? Get on all fours, then. And take off your clothes.”

You undressed and watched him remove his clothes, before waiting for him on your hands and knees. The bed sank under his weight as he knelt behind you. He ran his hands from your neck to the small of your back. He reveled in your eagerness, seeing your ass pushed back towards him. You wanted him to use you, the way he wanted. He placed his cock at your entrance, and thrusted in slowly. So slowly that it was almost more painful than when he would suddenly stick it in you. Like a bandage that you gently remove instead of ripping it off all at once. You felt your pussy spread painfully to let his cock sink in. You felt his skin warming you up from the inside. He kept thrusting, and you realized that you had been holding your breath since he dove in you. You breathed deeply, keeping yourself from moving backwards and impaling yourself on his cock in one blow. You knew he wanted to control the pace, and you wanted him to act that way. You wanted to be in pain, to feel things as intensely as possible, and for as long as possible.

You felt so fragile and vulnerable, with his massive hands on you and his cock piercing you. And at the same time, you had never felt so safe. Nothing could happen to you, with him.

Finally his cock bottomed out and you gasped. He pulled back and thrusted in with a brutal move this time, as you reflexively leaned forward. He tightened his embrace, threatening “don’t you dare. You’re gonna take my cock, as I want you to take it.” You bit your lip and nodded.

You heard him spit and you shivered as you felt his saliva reach your ass, his thumb immediately coming up to push it into your ring. You heard him grunt behind your back, guessing his contemplation between keeping fucking your pussy or claiming your ass. With a snort, he pulled out, dipping his tongue against your ass, lapping flat. You heard him jerking off into his fist and part of you hoped to see him desperate to the point of cumming against the sheets without having time to fuck you. But his primal instinct for possession was the strongest, and he positioned himself against your ring once he felt you would be able to take it.

He pushed, and you waited quietly, controlling your breath, until the tip was fully in.

“Oh fuck, Joel…”

“Always ready to take it in your ass, right?”

“I…fuck. Yeah. I can always take it.”

“Good girl”, he praised, as he thrusted in suddenly, the brutality of his action clashing with the sound of his voice. You didn't have time to say a word, he was already pulling back before burying himself again, showing you once more that you were his, pinching your hips, and you knew that the morning after your skin there would be blue.

“Turn around, I want to see your face while I fuck your ass,” he said, pulling back and manhandling you to turn around.

You lay on your back, and he grabbed the back of your knees to bring them closer to your shoulders before thrusting in. The position made the penetration so deep that you thought he was actually going to tear you in half. His growls were more animalistic than human and you lost yourself in their sounds. 

“Look”, he said. “Look at my cock, ruining your ass.”

He pulled his torso away from yours and you looked down, where your bodies were one.

“Fuck, baby doll. Look. You’re taking it so good.”

“Joel... Let off all your steam. Use me for that.”

“Shit you’re…you never get enough of that cock.”

He fucked you, probably harder than ever, and you couldn't feel your body anymore.

“Lose yourself in me”, he told you, looking at you as if he was reading you. “I’m here for it”, he added. You came, hearing him, your clit rubbing against his lower stomach.

Burying in your ass, he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them above your head, placing his mouth against your armpit, licking away the beads of sweat hidden there and growling against your skin.

“Jo…fuck. Joel.”

“Mmmm?”, he growled.

“The sounds you make, when you fuck me. I…- fuck.. I feel so full - …I love these sounds.”

For the first time, you thought you saw a loss of control in him, and you tried to catch his gaze. When he froze inside you and shot the hot spurts of cum into your ass, all you could think about was the dark waves you were floating in, and you came a second time on his cock.

You got dressed and as you were leaving he grabbed you, holding you against him like no one had ever done before. He held you so tight that it was painful, but you would have let him crack one of your ribs if it would allow you to continue this embrace. When he released you, you tried to meet his gaze again, but he had already turned away from you.

When you got back to your apartment, you knew you were screwed. Fucking with him, letting him use you in any possible way, was no longer enough.

Part 2

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

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[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[ranticore]

so what exactly is a 'crawling beast of the earth' and why did harpies have to develop such extreme modifications just to defend against them?

nobody really knows what the crawling beasts are except the wyrms, and they're not telling anyone. the beasts take many forms but commonly they are eyeless and worm-like with large jaws but no mouths. they do not eat, they show no signs of intelligence, and it seems that all they do is crawl and bite. their bodies have a high heavy metal content and by their very presence they leach toxic waste into the earth around their burrows that destroys organic life. although nobody really knows what they are or where they came from, it's universally acknowledged that crawling beasts are not monsters or natural animals. monsters - not animals - are able to physically touch a crawling beast without being poisoned and you can kill one by ripping it to shreds, but the easiest way to kill one is to throw their bodies on a pyre.

in terms of behaviour they seem to show no response to injury or environmental stimulus but always crawl or burrow towards the highest concentration of large living creatures they can sense (through means unknown). if one gets within biting distance they will bite.. even if there's a layer of topsoil between you and them. they do not notice others of their own kind and can mindlessly form huge aggregations underneath villages or settlements, fouling one another until eventually the sheer volume and mass of the pile-up spills onto the surface.

the purpose of the beasties, in this setting, is to provide a common enemy that can be a catalyst for human and monster cooperation. they're kind of a macguffin that makes everything else happen, but i like them because they're undefined and terrifying for everybody. one big crawler will destroy a field of crops in one night and make the soil barren, and that can be the difference between making it through the winter and starving, in a small village. crawlers are the reason flighted harpies fear touching the ground. the whole land is infested with them (the sea, too) and their numbers are only growing.

for most harpies, attaining the size and strength (and talons) necessary to fight a crawling beast would reduce their ability to neatly and accurately forage or hunt their normal animal prey. so instead of everyone developing this weaponry, instead only one guy in a flock does, and thereafter he's the flock's bodyguard. kings suck at hunting and foraging. because even regular eagle harpies are naturally pretty big and pointy, they are the first choice for human falconers who want a partner who can swoop down, snatch up a crawling beast, and drop it on a fire. solitary monsters fare the best here since they usually don't attract any crawling beasties, except when they're pressganged by humans (or other monsters) into helping the general pest control effort.

only wyrms are known to hunt and eat crawling beasts.

[tonightsyanderes]

Yandere Beastman

•Tiger Beastman•

TW: death(not reader), non-con, stalking, I am basing this off of the actual mating habits of a tiger. blood. injury to reader.

Don't like it or if these trigger you please don't read and take care of your mental health. I do NOT support or want anyone in this kind of relationship they are highly toxic and unsafe. I write the stories for entertainment purposes only.

There are not a lot of "Yandere tendencies" in this fic. Just a lot of fucked up stuff.....

Please Enjoy~

The hectic life you had before would be calm compared to the life you have now. Trying to keep yourself level-headed while the world changes around you is hard and mentally draining.

‘Note to self never trust someone that promises it’s a time machine that you’re stepping into. Even if they are… were your best friend.’ You mumble to yourself bitterly about how unfair it was to be stuck somewhere or when with nothing to help you. You heard a rustling of leaves behind you. The wind blew green leaves in your face as the rustling got louder.

You could hear the thud of hooves drawing closer to you. You quickly wiped your face clean and moved behind a tree to hide from whatever was coming. Heartbeat ringing in your ears you try to calm down by breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. You try not to hold your breath until it gets closer. The thudding grew louder, shaking the ground. A figure ran past you, too quick to see what it was. Two more things ran by the tree you hid behind, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your breathing. One of them had antlers… with ears like a deer. Their legs were like a deer too… and with hooves! Where the hell are you?!?

You heard a deep growl in front of the tree. A shrill scream followed by a loud crunch was mere feet from you. Your body couldn’t move. You tried to back away, tried to uncover your mouth, tried anything! But your body refused to listen… The crunching sound was like breaking celery, a crisp crack/crunch. It stopped and you could hear the chewing of something wet and tough. One of those things must have been caught. Whatever caught it could find you too… would it eat you too? You could imagine the way it would tear into you, it would eat you alive. It ate whatever that thing was alive so you could only imagine what you would see as it tears into your stomach as the life drained away from you. The last thing you would remember would be that horrifying scene.

‘I need to get out of here… quietly’ You looked around trying to make less noise than the eating sounds. You tried to turn around when the wind picked up again. Except this time you were upwind from the beast. The sound stopped… not just the eating sounds, all the sounds around you… the birds let long ago, the wind stopped whistling, the river stopped bubbling, and the far-off thudding of hooves was no longer heard. The beating of your heart quicked, it hurt your chest. The chest that you were sure would be ripped open in mere seconds. 

Another growl and you couldn't move again. ‘Not this shit again! I need out of here!!’ Your eyes were restless and you looked around wildly. You can’t hear the soft thuds headed to the tree you hid behind. The way the beast made slow, calculating movements was a sign that it was an apex predator. Nothing scared it. A claw of a tiger stepped out from the other side. It was massive, about the size of your head. You imagined it slicing through your stomach. 

Its head followed soon after, traces of its meal all over its face. It looks almost… human. It, no He turned towards you, and you backed away as his whole body came into view. His face and torso were more human but the rest was like a tiger. His arms and legs were tiger limbs. He had an orange and black tail. Tiger ears on top of his head. He had no clothes on. Blood was caked on him everywhere. The fur on his body became clumped together and dyed red. He continued to growl at you. His teeth were long and the tips were sharp. You backed away from him as much as you could. He glared at you and stepped closer. 

“Get back! I taste bad I promise!” You shout out of fear. In your right mind, you would not be saying something like that. He stopped growling and stayed still. Just looking at you, it was worse than him moving. Staying still made him unpredictable. You crawled away quickly. He didn’t move just stared at you. You stood up slowly and continued to walk backward until you had a few trees between you and him. You sprinted away from the area and towards the sound of the river. 

 You made a small shelter out of fallen branches that leaned against a tree. The river is a small walk from the shelter, fishing got easier with time and practice. You had no idea how to start a fire without a lighter so you go cold most nights. You have seen a few… bloody leftovers of other beasts that left you berries or other foods around your little camp. 

You were trying to catch some fish with your makeshift net. A long-sleeved t-shirt with a stick in the shape of a Y can only do so much. You were so busy focusing on fishing that you didn’t hear the noises behind you. Suddenly you were pushed face-first into the ground. A growl from whatever was holding you made you freeze. It sounded so familiar… so overly terrifying. 

This was it you are going to die… you’re going to be eaten alive by that man-beast thing! A bite on the back of your neck sent pain down your spine. A scream erupted from your mouth as you kicked and grabbed at it from behind you. You heard a chuckle behind you. The claws on the massive paws tore through your clothes with ease. The teeth on the back of your neck never let up. Something wet, slime-y, and hard was pressed into your thighs. He used one hand to bring your hips up, the claws dug into your skin and drew blood. His penis was barbed on one side and painful when he entered you with no preparation. Another scream erupted from you, you tried to fight back even more. Nothing worked as he kept going until he filled you to the brim with his cum. You cried until you passed out, you’d rather be asleep when you die than awake. 

You woke up in a den with the tiger beast beside you. A dead deer beast was in front of him, he was already eating it. You whimpered and he looked over at you. He tore off a leg and tried to hand it to you. You gagged as the limb dripped blood all over the ground. He huffed and walked over to you wagging it in your face. You shook your head and started to kick at him when he came too close. He smirked and showed off his phallus it was hard and pink. 

“No! Not again! Fuck you!” You shouted as he got even closer not bothered by your attempts to hurt him. He opened his mouth his teeth on full display.

“Again! You!” He mimicked your voice almost perfectly. ‘What the hell… how the fuck…’ You couldn’t believe this…

“Mine… mate… season… you fight… you mate now.” He said in broken words. “Kill… others… need… me not… them.” He growled as he walked towards you. Your vision goes black as you pass out from fear. ‘Will I see the light of day again?...’

[vantaesfairie]

𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡 : 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔰𝔭 (𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔯) 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔲𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢

atlty’s tarot readings: art commissions, paid readings, spell ritual comms open!

choose a pile below:

pile 1, crochet plant:

your dream sp: do yall like fixing people,,,,, hmmmmm bc im getting a vibe of i can fix them but you actually do. delusional ass. you want someone who has escaped some sort of bad experiences, or has a bad boy / girl appearance. you want someone who is a born leader, fiery energy, good with money and is ambitious to achieve their own goals. oh you want someone with duality. someone with a peaceful, gentle side to them that they don’t show often, perhaps mysterious or emotionally intuitive. 

your fated sp: someone who has experienced enough to become mature and warm and caring. i don’t think it’s a bad boy / girl. someone who has expertise in their field, master of 1 skill kind of vibe. someone who enjoys learning and travelling, broadening their horizons. idealistic, likes bright colours? that’s a specific message. always looking for chances for entrepreneurship, money making, learning new hobbies and skills, hopping around from one to the next. a fresh breath of air, embodies the sun. 

pile 2, crochet jellyfish: 

your dream sp: are yall stuck on your ex or someone toxic??? you want someone who can fight for you, will burn the world down to save you trope. someone who saves you from the bad things that happen to you. you want someone who can help you clear your mind and take a break, a healing person. someone who ISN’T STUCK ON THE PAST AND DOESN’T WALLOW IN SELF PITY. or maybe you are missing your ex who knows 

your fated sp: they may come in later in your life than you think. you are fated to meet someone who is powerful in their field, respects authority, perhaps religious and traditional. someone who has achieved happiness in all aspects of their life and is willing to share that with you. someone who completes you. kind and family-oriented, emotional, sensitive, and compassionate. balanced masculine and feminine energy. 

pile 3, crochet pasta: 

your dream sp: i think you watch too much tiktok or smut. yall are all FINDING THE SAME TYPE OF GUY. i think you like toxic people who will fight for you. literally physically fight someone off for you. someone who is good in bed and creative. passionate, motivated to work hard, probably athletic especially running. someone who can dominate you, but still be patient and compassionate with you. tamed wild beast typa feeling. 

your fated sp: and guess what you will get someone who will fight for you, but instead of literally fighting they will defend you and this relationship to the very end. someone who likes fairness and justice, could work in the law field. someone who will make sure that they give as much as they take. down to earth, nature-loving, practical and resourceful. willing to hand make things for you. likes to save money perhaps. 

ok i got lazy so i posted this like weeks after i said i was gonna sorries

i hope you enjoyed this pac! please consider purchasing a paid reading or spell service by sliding into my dms. reblog and share if possible! i’d love to know if this resonates to you. thank you so much! 

[rippersz]

𝖸𝗈𝗎, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖨 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈.

«——..✞..——»

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both; gore, toxic love, fluffy love, nightmares, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader)

«——..✞..——»

"Where could I rest but in your hurricane?" ~ Erica Jong

«——..✞..——»

There’s hot breath at your heels. And a pounding in your head. And your feet are sore and your neck is aching and everything kind of hurts. Like you’ve been dragged across rocky lands by your ankles, only just given the chance to run once cut loose from rope binds.

Blindly, you turn corners.

Where are you?

One right, one left.

What’s happened?

One left, one right.

How do you get out?

Two lefts.

Is this a maze?

Two rights.

Is there an end?

No.

Just more darkness.

Something smacks the grass behind you, trampling it beneath heavy feet. Heavy… paws? You can’t tell. You don’t want to look back. The only way through is forward and forward is leading you to Hell. But there is no other choice.

You keep going.

Cool sweat paints your back, your temples, your upper lip and your thighs. Making you shiver through the hazy mist. Blood rushing and lungs burning. You can never get far enough. Never go fast enough. It gains whatever ground you trek and its warm breath laps like waves at your ankles.

“Come,” it’s telling you. “Give in to me.”

“You know you want to.”

“You know this is who you are.”

There’s light at the end. There. In the distance. One smooth run away. Only a few steps. You can do it. You can make it. Or you can run the other way, into the darkness. Or you can stop and let yourself be eaten. Consumed. It depends. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?

The light.

It’s a saving grace.

The good ending.

Your mind hurts and your bones feel stiff but still you must go. Still you must try.

One foot in front of the other. Go. Go go go. Time is running out. The light gets closer. Closer. The beast chuckles somewhere behind you. A warm sound that slips through red teeth and pale skin.

“You’re precious to me,” it coos, watching your body push itself to ash. “Can’t you see that?”

No.

No you don’t want to.

This isn’t worth it.

Nothing is worth it.

There-

The light.

Close.

Close.

Closer.

Go.

Go.

There-

No.

No.

No.

…

…

…

..what?

…it’s… no. It’s just a lamp.

You stop, vision blurring, knees trembling. Staring as if your gaze could change reality. Just a lamp.

It’s just a lamp. Resting on a long branch. With a fake candle in the middle.

What?

What is this?

Why is this-

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

No.

Yes.

No, please-

Yes, right here-

“Look. Give in.”

Your feet shift without warning. Your body is pulled- you steer it- toward the beast. And you cannot stop it. You cannot do anything.

But you don’t want to.

Do you?

You move of your own accord.

You let it take you.

You see, in the dark, its bulky form.

You find comfort in what it can offer you. You find bliss in its soft fur and its glowing eyes. So many eyes. It is beautiful. It smiles wide.

“This is it, dearheart.”

Its voice is low and smooth and human.

You swallow.

“I love you.”

Which one of you said it?

Why did you say it first?

A tear slips down the side of your cheek, and you are smiling.

This is home.

Its glowing eyes are brighter than the sun. This is your good ending, you see.

This is it.

“I love you, too.”

You take a step forward.

–

There is a deep harsh ringing in your ears when your heart jumps to your throat. You try to grasp it, the panic, before it escapes - but it’s too late. You’re too slow. And your eyes are wide, aching, when they meet the dark wall opposite the bed. There’s sweat painting your back and neck, dampening the hairs at your nape, and your hands are clenched around the bedsheets. They’re sore. Tense. You’re wound up like a spring but there’s nowhere to bounce off to.

It wasn’t real, of course. It wasn’t real. It didn’t even feel real. And yet you were still scared.

Are scared.

Hyper aware of the way your body thrums, thumping from the adrenaline of a chase you never experienced. You quake in your meager bed. Thoughts swirl in a near deafening tornado. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to think. The silence is potent. Thick with its desire to have you killed. Maimed and left for dead.

You’re not ready to die. You’re not ready to leave just yet. The heaving gulps of air you take are so soothing, so comforting, you can’t die- you won’t die.

What if there’s something behind the door?

There isn’t. Don’t be stupid.

Skulking about. Waiting for you. Long fingers twitching and white eyes blazing and smile so wide it stretches the skin into its hairline. Smelling of rot and disgust. What if it is there. What if the beast, with its heavy paws and changing voice, lurks along with it. Two beasts. More monsters. A cacophony of horror waiting for you to leave.

There’s nothing there. Stop it.

But your eyes shift anyway, glancing, and suddenly the walls have peep holes and the bathroom is hiding something in the dark. Deep chuckles and hungry tongues and desperation to mutilate you. Watching you. Eager for your blood. For your bones and your flesh. You shiver, darting wide eyes around in the emptiness - as though looking at the monsters, facing them, could possibly save you. But they can’t. Nothing can. There, in the corner, is a stranger. A tall figure, too tall for the room, with a head that’s upside down and eyes too wide for its slim face. It smiles. Still and prone in the dark. It is watching. It is waiting.

You can’t do this.

You can’t do this again.

Are you hallucinating?

It doesn’t matter.

There’s a slight glow beneath the door, caused by the flicker of hallway candlelight, and you’re scrambling out of bed before you can think. Before you can even stop yourself and pause and maybe turn on a light and come to the realization that you’re overreacting. It’s too cold, it’s too dark. Your hand slips on the doorknob, your bare feet fall sensitive on the chilled floor, your legs shake as you tear out of your bedroom. You don’t even know where you’re going. What can protect you? What place can hide you? The beast lurks around each corner. The tall figure follows behind. You can hear its footsteps. Are they yours?

Where are you going?

Who are you looking for?

What does safety mean when you are not home?

Your heart stutters as the pad of your foot hits the ground too hard and your leg goes buckling beneath you. No. Now is not where you fall. Now is not where you die. The figure gains, and you catch yourself against concrete brick with a loud ‘slap!’, and the sound spurs you again.

Running.

Like the dream.

Running where?

Is this the maze? Were they the same thing? No. No, couldn’t have been. There is no branch here with a fake lamp. There is no false candle flicker. There is only darkness and only silence and the embarrassing pitter-patter of your quick feet that make you cringe. You are being too loud. They will always know where you are. They will always find you.

What place is safe?

Where does protection exist in the dark?

There is no one to save you. No arms to run into. You run for so long, hearing the thumps of your own heart and mistaking them as chasing creatures, that the sweat on your back renews. It drops to the curve of your spine. You feel sick with your fear, with the way it suffocates you slowly. Draws you to the dark.

You can’t keep going. You can’t feel your legs. You don’t know where you are. You don’t-

Principal’s Quarters.

Oh.

No.

No, there’s-

No.

Are you serious? Is this it? Is this your lamp? Is this your plastic flame? Your end and your beginning? Is this where you will always return? The orbit you were born into? The infinity you occupy? The ouroboros you are caught in, eating your own tail, returning to your end? Your death? Your liberation?

The monsters lurk. They are behind you. You can’t turn - you won’t.

It is smiling, it is huffing, it is there, and you are in front of a twisted salvation that will embrace you with clean arms and red lips and blue eyes. Not white. Not a grin too large. Just right. Perfection. On the outside. On the inside, something a little rotted. But you don’t mind. This is your only choice, as you cannot turn around. As you won’t.

“Larissa?” Your voice is soft, weak, in the silence. There is no answer. There is no savior.

Your knuckles begin to pain as you knock on the door, hitting the wood so hard you can feel the pangs of hurt run through your tendons. Right down to your wrist. You knock once. Twice. You knock a third time and then you knock again, until it flows into one steady stream of sound that only draws the creatures nearer and as you knock, you fear that if she doesn’t open up soon, you will not be alive when she gets back. You will not be breathing. You will not be there to hold and pick up. There will be no more infinity and no more liberation. No more shared secrets and sobbed apologies and no more memories of how you untangled yourselves from the closet floor and sat in her living room at a complete loss for words. No more tension. No more quiet understanding. No more glancing at each other and no more weeks of avoidance. No more yearning. Strange yearning. Out of place yearning. No more thinking about apologies and warm hands and the way she held you together. No more contemplating the lack of fear- the nonexistence of it- because when you looked down, there was no blood beneath her fingernails. No blood on her teeth. No carnage in her form. Because you were safe and she would not hurt you and you were special and she would not eat you and you’re not sure if she loves you but that doesn’t matter right now because dear god Larissa just please- please- open the door-!

And so it opens. And the gods have answered.

“What on E-”

Your fist lands blindly on the soft skin of an exposed collarbone and before you can stop yourself, grasp onto a nearby wall or gain some sense, you are falling. Shifting into the depths, the churning tides of the room beyond, and letting out a small squeak as you go. For a long moment, everything is one quick whirl of dim light, dark shadow, and fear. It jumps to your tongue, climbs to your mouth and your hands, and you are clawing at the person that has opened the door. Behind you, as your head knocks to the side and a glimpse of the hallway grows clear, you swear you see movement. Creatures fleeing. Running away, back into the night, because they have come across something unknown. Tails between their legs and ears pressed back. Eyes wide with terror. They have run into the heart of a bigger beast. A smarter beast. A beast that watches with a gaze of cut cerulean and a tongue sharper than a knife’s edge. A beast so intelligent and cunning, it is capable of fooling the world. Tricking the tricksters. One big painting of iron-clad facades and not a single sniffing nose looking for her. A beast that opens her arms to you, and draws you in, and will not hurt you even if you beg.

A beast whose arms, cool and familiar, go running around your waist, eager to keep you from smashing your teeth out onto the hard floor. Her hold is strong and desperate, weakened from sleep, but good enough to clutch and pull you closer. Into safety. Large hands immediately press at your back, flung wide from surprise; and warm breath is pushed out in a rush from modest lungs. You cling to this post of life, to this beam of gold, to this beast, as your feet scramble over the threshold and the door slams! itself back into place behind you.

Safety at last.

From one darkness into another.

But this darkness has no interest in hunting you. She is only surprised that you have shown up at all.

“Y/n? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Her hands fly to your waist, going to push you back to get a better look at you, but the fear still runs thick and you need a moment to think - so you push yourself closer and nearly topple the poor woman off balance.

“Sorry,” you mumble into her shoulder, finding immediate comfort in the smell of everything Larissa. It should be off-putting to push your face against her, to fall in love with the softness of her hastily thrown on robe, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. She is here and you are safe and as long as she is here, you will always be safe. Somehow. Someway.

“It’s okay,” comes her soft whisper. “It’s okay.”

Her gentleness is unexpected. Wasn’t it only about three weeks ago when you were running all over Nevermore, scared out of your mind? Frightened that she’d eat you alive–even though she said she wouldn’t? Full of begrudging trust and weepy eyes as you fell apart on the carpet of her walk-in closet? Was a bit of space, a bit of time, all you needed in order to come running back like the love-sick fool you are?

Or was it always meant to be like this? Running back to Larissa, who would probably always wipe the blood off of her lips and out of her mouth before trying to kiss you. Never wanting you to witness her horrors, no matter how self-indulgent. You think for just a moment, as you stand there melting into her body and shivering as her fingers go tangling into your hair, that you may be able to live the lie. Nothing is wrong. When you’re with her, there are no nightmares. When you’re with her, you’re safe. She will brush her teeth and then you will kiss her senseless. She will wash her hands and then she will touch your skin, reverent and desperate. She will wash the red from her hair and then she will let you brush it.

A modern romance. No horror. You can live it, you think. If only you tried.

“Are you alright?” She eventually whispers, heart beating steadily beneath your cheek and ear. Clearly, she’s worried. Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice but still swimming in relief because you’ve come to her. Out of all the people to go to and you came to her. You know she feels a new sense of hope, because you do too. Three weeks without confronting the depth of everything only led to sadness. Sadness and emptiness and desire. A deep clawing desire that begged you every day to show up in front of her and demand her attention. Knock on her office door, the door to her quarters, the door to her teacher’s room, anywhere everywhere, just for a moment of her time. Just to look into her eyes and know that you were okay. You wanted to be okay so bad. But you never gave in. You never went searching. You would’ve soon rather chained your feet to your desk than run out of your room and go to her.

Though now here you are, with your body working against you. Betrayal spelled in bold letters. Leading you back to the beast you want.

“No.” You’re safe, yes, but you’re not alright. You’re frazzled and tired and sleep has been an elusive creature and all you want is rest. So much rest you grow fat and lazy with it. Rest so good and long that it comes spilling out of your ears. Rest that hasn’t lied beside you in days because sleeping alone has proven so difficult. So bloody difficult in a way it hasn’t been in so long. And you don’t know what to do anymore. Running from imaginary creatures, nightmares that followed you in your mind, was the last straw. You’re exhausted. A sigh shakes your body, making your shoulders rise and fall with its strength.

Large palms find their way there, onto your biceps, and gently squeeze.

“What do you need?” Larissa’s voice is so kind, so open and sweet, you want to cry. “Tell me and I’ll do what I can.”

You don’t know. You really don’t know. All you can understand, accept, is the comfort of her strong arms. The power of her supple body. The protection she is giving you without wanting anything in return. So selfless a person, but so horrific a soul. You don’t know what you want from her aside from this eternity. This slice of heaven held near to her heart.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, rubbing your forehead against the silk of her nightie. Your own has stopped sticking to your back, falling limp against the sweat that has cooled.

“A cup of tea, maybe?”

No. Not enough. You shake your head again.

“Okay,” she hums, “I may have some melatonin somewhere-”

“No,” you whisper. “It doesn’t- it won’t help.”

“Oh,” her shoulders jump as she gets an idea. “What about a bath? It might help.”

No. No no no. You’re much too tired to bathe. You’ll deal with that in the morning, even if you do feel a little gross. You’re recovering from a fear-induced marathon, your hair is greasy, and you’re probably a little smelly, but Larissa doesn’t care. She only holds you closer as you shake your head again and your chest goes slumping. You don’t want to bathe. You don’t want to do anything. You don’t even want to leave her side. The feeling of her breath, the rise and fall of her bust, is soothing enough to lull you to sleep. To a land of comforting dreams and maybe even a bit of blissful silence. Darkness. Not a thing to remember and thus, not a thing to dwell on. That’s what your body cries for. Larissa’s presence. The knowledge that she is safe, no matter what she has done.

“I-” your heart goes pounding away in your ears again, kick-started by anxiety. “I- can’t.” Why can’t you?

“Can’t do what, Y/n?” She manages then to pry you away from her, and holds you steady while she takes a small step back. Just so she can look into your eyes, lit up in the glare of the moon that shines through the living room’s tall gothic windows. It’s not too much light, but it’s enough. Enough for her to catch the desperation in your gaze and the way your cheeks go pink when you can view her properly. Finally revealed in the dim rays, her hair acts as a halo. Tied up in a loose bun, with flyaways going everywhere; face pale and free of makeup. Pink lips. Blonde lashes. Eyebrows so fair-haired you can barely see them, but still they are there. Delicate. So delicate and so lovely. You can’t imagine splashes of scarlet across her chin and chest. You can’t imagine the glint of murder in those cerulean eyes as she leans over a corpse. Gentle hands clenched so tight around a throat. Perfect teeth bared in a deep animalistic ferocity. You can’t picture it. You don’t want to.

But you want to fall asleep next to her? Good lord girl, get it together.

Get it together.

Why?

Why should you?

Why get it together, why even try, when you’re the exception?

“I don’t- I don’t want to- bath. Or drink tea.” You huff, finding it difficult to be honest under her intense blue eyes. Her lips instantly tug into a frown, reflecting her disappointment, but that’s the last thing you want. The straw that could probably break your back, so you’re quick to reassure. “I just- but I just-”

A hand finds your clenched fist. It caresses the hills of your knuckles. You glance at it, at the pale slender fingers, and you wonder (not for the first time) how such pretty palms- nails- glorious soft fingertips- could ever be capable of violence. Rough red violence that kills and maims and uses silver tines to tear apart cooked flesh. Steamed, grilled, poached to perfection by her own vein-deep desires. How can a willowy, strong, kind woman like Larissa ever want to kill? How can she feel even the smallest sparks of such vicious anger?

Unless it’s not done out of anger.

Unless it’s done out of pleasure.

An evil pleasure. Twisted with the kind of joy that comes from seeing another suffer. A slight inkling that perhaps the pain is deserved. Perhaps all humans need a little bit of it, a bit of searing- stabbing- hunting- in order to be humbled. Is that what she thinks? Is that what she feels? When she stands over them, when she looks at her shifting forearms and notices that the red stays red no matter what shape she takes - does she think about it then? Does she revel in it? Does she look just as beautiful? Do those doll lips pull up into a serene smile as she contemplates the richness of her impending dinner? Does she close her brilliant blue eyes when she hears the bones snap? Does she caress the cold face of a corpse and mourn their warmth before shoving their cheek into the shallows of dirty water and rushing off into the wood? Does she name them? Or does she know their names already? Does she have a system? Or is she spontaneous?

If you weren’t the exception, would you already be dead?

“Y/n-”

It doesn’t matter, you’ve decided. It doesn’t matter because you are the exception. And there is no point wasting precious thoughts on something as silly as your death. She will never hurt you. For some reason, she cares too much. And you are beyond exhausted, beyond drained, to trudge back to your own room and wait for the sun to rise before finally falling back asleep. The dark, recently, has become too haunting. And Larissa is so bright…

“I just wanna sleep,” you finally tell her, still entranced by the way her large hand covers your own. “I just want- rest. I’m so tired.” She can hear it in your voice, in the way your tone can’t reach higher than a hush. And your eyes, which flit to the broad line of her shoulders and the curved bit of her jaw. They’re shadowed and droopy and you’re too tired to explain any further.

Maybe, at a different time, perhaps in the morning, you will be able to tell her that not speaking for three weeks had nearly driven you completely mad. Focus did not exist for you while you taught. While you sat. While you lied awake in bed in the mornings and forced yourself to get up. She would walk the halls and you would pass her by and you’d glance and your eyes would meet and nothing would come of it. Beautiful woman, beautiful soul that she is, with her red hands and her secrets. Walking at a brisk pace to avoid being stopped by you, but you weren’t planning on asking her to talk. What sort of talking was there to do? Larissa wouldn’t stop and you wouldn’t ask her to. Some people are simply made to be outsiders. She runs a school of them, and still she is the most far removed. Perfectly sane and yet… and yet. The game was a different story. Adrenaline was high and she was in her element and you were a fool for ever agreeing to it but if you hadn’t…

“Alright,” comes the sweetest whisper, “I’ll take you back.”

If you hadn’t…

“No. No I don’t want that either. I just- I can’t-” you look up at her and plead with your eyes. You beg. You ask. Please. Please let me stay here with you.

If you hadn’t…

Recognition explodes in her gaze. Stay with her? You? You feel safe enough to do that? To sleep in the bed of a predator? To sink into her arms and yearn for more? Is that what a bit of warmth, a bit of care, can do? “Are you sure?” She is confused. Her perfect brows are furrowed. She thought you were scared. Of her. Of the dark. Of the monsters. Of her.

“Yes. I- yes. I can’t- I don’t want to be alone Larissa.” Her name is a concealed plea from your lips. Whispered and wanting.

If you hadn’t…

She is uncertain, running a soft thumb over your knuckles, but the last thing she wants is for you to go. Call it selfishness, call it disbelief, but she wants you near. Three weeks was too long. She’s missed you so much.

“Alright,” she murmurs, twisting her hands to run up to your shoulders. “Alright.” And she’s gently turning and steering you in front of her, walking you to the bedroom.

…then where would you be?

«——..✞..——»

Next part may include some kissy kissy lovey lovey... Lemme know if you wanna see it. - Rip x

«——..✞..——»

Tags: @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @azu-zu @hopelessly-sapphic @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @alex-nyx @h-doodles

«——..✞..——»

[lucy-ghoul]

can't believe a show based on a videogame (usually games adaptations are notoriously bad, which isn't the case here tho) gave me the beauty and the beast/twisted mirrors/enemies to traveling companions/ruthless antihero+optmistic but still badass heroine who takes none of his shit/age gap but make it sexy dynamic of my dreams. as much as i love maximus and i think he deserves the best writing ever because 1. he's a clever deconstruction of the aspiring Knight bro who's actually a bit of a loser and, as much as lucy, sees the world in black&white at first and then doesn't get what he thought he wanted but what he needs (or at least i hope he'll eventually get it), and 2. he's a cutie and i want an epic love story for him too, it's very funny how they tried to give us a puppy kind of romance and the tumblr girlies still fixated on the "toxic ~she bites his finger off and he cuts hers off and sews it on his hand in what we'll pretend it's a symbolic marriage rings exchange or whatever~ asshole who used to be a nice guy/good girl™ with a lot of spunk and hidden anger but unshakeable morals" kind of relationship.

[crimson-kisses]

Ok umm. Yandere god Canada, America, Russia, Austria, Germany, and France with a nature Goddess reader.

🤡💧anon ~

Technically, I have already done this ask in a way so this will only contain some drabbles!! Hope you liked it. Austria is a new one, tho!

Warning: Contains usual yandere themes, toxic relationships and the like.

Other works related to the au [post 1 || post 2 || post 3 || post 4 || post 5 || post 6]

Tangled vines

Canada || Matthew Williams 🇨🇦

Sitting atop a grassy hill, surrounded by vibrant blooming flowers, Matthew watches you with an admiring gaze. The calmness you give off brings a sense of peace to his soul, and he could spend hours simply observing your serene demeanor.

However, beneath your calm exterior, a storm rages within. Containing your seething fury, you make a decision not to show Matthew the extent of your anger. He had held you captive, subjecting you to his relentless beasts—creatures both mortal and immortal, magical and fierce.

His mighty wolves encircle you, seeking solace and warmth, as if yearning for a mother's touch. But you are far from their mother, yet you dare not push them away, lest you lose half of your body.

While your injuries may heal, the pain would prove burdensome, and that is the last thing you desire.

Matthew has succeeded in breaking your spirit through fear, ensuring your submission to his will. Meanwhile, delicate creatures flutter around you, drawn to the beauty of the blossoming flowers, as if inviting them into an embrace.

Sitting on the hill, you keenly sense Matthew's loving gaze upon you, his watchful eyes drinking in every detail of your presence.

"Your presence brings me a tranquility I haven't felt in eons,"

He murmurs, walking closer to where you sit, his hands clasped behind his back. He stalks towards you, paying no mind to the flowers crushed under his boots as he positions himself besides you. In his outstretched palm, a delicate butterfly finds solace.

His eyes, a shade of soothing lavender, gaze at you with a glint of delight. He reaches out, intertwining his fingers with yours, binding them tightly together. The fluttering creatures find respite around both of you, creating a delicate barrier.

You manage to suppress a shudder at his words, a bitter irony lingering in your mind. For he has brought you nothing but misfortune after misfortune. Trapped in this place, guarded by unfathomable creatures, you find yourself drained and wearied. His clinginess, has only soured over time, leaving you with a distaste that grows stronger with each passing moment.

At the very least, he hasn’t taken you far away from your domain.

America || Alfred F Jones 🇺🇸

The palace of the divine king stood in all its splendor, a spectacular sight of celestial marble adorned with magnificent statues. Pearls of various kinds adorned every corner, while golden rings encircled the ceilings, creating an ambiance fit for the heavens.

Yet, for you, it was a personal hell.

Alfred had positioned you on his lap, gripping you tightly as he attended to his duties and other matters, leaving you unable to attend to your own responsibilities. Your connection to your own domain felt distant, slipping through your fingers like sand.

There was no solace to be found within these walls.

But of course, Alfred was busy with showcasing you, parading you around, while purposely disregarding your legitimate concerns. It often felt as if he intentionally sought to provoke you, to ignite his wrath within you.

Perhaps that was exactly what he desired.

There is no piece or a leaf of your domain to be found near his castle, his territory, his domain, because his insufferable pride wouldn’t let that happen anytime soon. Instead, he to claim you as his, not as an another immortal being, but his wife, his woman, his lover. That’s the only identity you ought to have in his eyes.

Except for the garden, a sprawling expanse adorned with lush nature, you were forbidden to enter without his presence by your side. He would lead you beneath the thick foliage of the trees, that’s where he pleased you as he so wished, over and over again, until he was satisfied. The flowers bloomed with an ardent passion, glistening with dewdrops that adorned the garden like delicate jewels. It was a place solely dedicated to your pleasure, a sanctuary of sensory delights.

As if he was saying without telling, that even in this sanctuary you cannot have solace or peace without him by your side.

His hands were now inching towards your thighs, the dress slipping away smooth as milk as goosebumps raised on your skin, he stared at you with a lustful gaze, sitting between your naked thighs.

"It’s always a pleasure to be on my knees for you".

Russia || Ivan Brangisky 🇷🇺

He was more than aware that the frigidness of his domain did not suit you well and often clashed with the climate of your domain. Frost clung to your delicate skin, causing you to tremble ever so slightly in the face of the biting cold breeze.

He inhaled softly through his nose, a smile slowly spreading across his lips as he imagined you snugly wrapped in his coat, finding warmth and comfort within its embrace.

Sadly, you had politely refused.

Ivan set a steaming bowl of hot soup before you, urging you to partake as he settled into a seat across from you. His gaze, filled with intensity, roamed freely over your form, appreciating your beauty. You were indeed a stunning woman, a captivating sight that was truly a feast for the eyes.

He held a special fondness for the moments when you brought life and beauty to his desolate domain, watching nature bloom in all its loveliness and delight. It was a sight that touched his heart and filled him with a rare warmth, a feeling he rarely experienced within his own realm and in his life as a whole.

And it was precisely because of this profound connection that he felt compelled to carry out what he was about to do.

With deep violet eyes sparkling with delight and a hint of amusement, he watched as a vibrant cluster of sunflowers flourished around his house. Your cheerful laughter and radiant smile tugged at his heartstrings, bringing warmth to the depths of his being.

You were undeniably enchanting, blissfully unaware of the healing power you possessed. In your presence, the scars that tore at his heart and the wars that ravaged his immortal soul seemed to fade away.

It was you, and only you, who had the ability to mend the shattered pieces and bring solace to his troubled existence.

Austria || Roderick Edelstein 🇦🇹

Glowing bluebells sway delicately from fragile stems, emitting a soft, ethereal glow. As you run your fingers tenderly across their petals, a melodic serenade reminiscent of piano keys fills the air. With a sigh, you become aware that you are under the watchful scrutiny of keen plum-colored eyes.

You have long stopped caring about such things, focusing on the peaceful arrangements of nature around you, swaying with their own set of tunes which was such a joy to hear.

Emerging from his hiding place, Roderick would reprimand you about the seemingly chaotic music that resonates in the surroundings. Swiftly taking control of the situation, and in response to his commands, the flowers obediently bloom and unfurl themselves once more. The melodies that fill the air follow his guidance, harmonizing in a more orderly manner.

At the very least, you would be near your domain and Roderick, as much as judgmental he is about some things, whether it be how your too much of a carefree woman or being agitated by your chaotic domain, he had no qualms about separating you from your home.

You supposed you will take what you get, as he exclaims that it is now time for dinner and grabs you inside his mansion by gently placing a hand on your waist and demanding you to clean yourself up.

It wasn’t all that bad, you supposed with an exasperated look directed towards him and go ahead, to wash yourself up for dinner.

Germany || Ludwig Beilschmidt 🇩🇪

You swim around the extravagantly colorful reefs with a burst of speed as dozen fishes follow your trail. Playfully, you swirl around and watch as they circle around you, filling your heart with warmth unlike the cold water which was your home.

Your tail, looked like a part of the nature itself, scales glistening with shades of green, mimicking hues of lush moss that clung to ancient stones, delicate tendrils of seaweed and aquatic flora intertwined with the moss-like scales.

It shimmered vibrantly in the ocean, as you glided through the vibrant reefs, leaving a trail of luminous pearls in their wake, so you could be easily tracked by the Deity of the twelve Oceans.

You feel the sudden change of current in the ocean, as he swims near you skillfully, his powerful tail a deep shade of forest green, with a golden hue.

The water lilies swim above you, blooming in your presence as they gently make way for the sunlight to fall upon you both. Following your and Ludwig's command with perfect harmony.

"You have been wandering quite a lot, I can’t help but be worried about you. I suppose the pearls were a good idea after all".

Solemnly you nod, as the former giddiness you shared with the fishes fades away into an empty space in your chest. Ludwig takes your hand and together you both take a dive, deeper into the ocean.

The pearls would make a fine jewelry for a more fortunate woman someday, you think, as Ludwig can’t help but collect few in with his hands.

France || Francis Bonnefoy 🇫🇷

A necklace adorned with a delicate array of ethereal feathers, gracefully embraced your neck. In the mirror's reflection, you could see the reflection of Francis, dreamy expression adorning his face, captivated by your appearance.

You swiftly avert your gaze from his, he gently takes a hold of your hand, pressing a series of tender kisses upon the top of your knuckles, his affectionate gestures ascending to graze your neck.

You don’t bother saying anything, not that he would listen to what do you have to say. Staying still, as he presses kisses across your collarbone, his hands inching towards the sides of your bosom.

In your divine beauty, you stood as a celestial masterpiece, crafted from stardust that cascaded across the vast expanse of the universe. With a single glance, you effortlessly ensnared his heart, drawing him into a realm of enchantment from which he could never escape. Your allure was irresistible and mesmerizing, leaving him forever spellbound by your radiant presence.

His adoration for you knew no bounds. He was madly in love with every curves of your body, his hands tenderly skimmed through the strands of your hair, cherishing each delicate strand. A shudder comes through you as he pushes your dress down, and then presses a passionate kiss on your lips, hands grabbing whatever they could find.

You were the nature's most precious treasure, indeed.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Dragon Prince! Evan Peters Headcanons + ( x gn!reader)

Warnings! Mentions of violence, fluff, little angst, lots of rambling and dragon lore stuff, not rlly proofread

Disclaimer! This is obviously not an accurate representation of Evan Peters as a person. This is a characterized/ fictionalized idea/ concept. Do not take this as fact. It is entirely fiction and based on my own opinions, thoughts and conception.

Good lord this photo does things to me. Eye contact with Evan has me melting

Requested by @jazz-berry (as usual) and inspired by @lemoniiiiiii

Y/N is definitely a self made boss, bounty hunter/ hunter/ pirate/ archer, etc. and Evan is extremely protective over them, it’s in his nature, but he knows how they feel about him being overbearing or getting in the way of them having their independence. So he kind of steps to the side, while keeping a big eye on Y/N. And if they’re ever in immediate danger and he’s around, you know he’s going to be the one to come save their ass instantly. He’ll be dramatic about it too, he has a stoic face where he acts like he isn’t super worried, but he’ll pick Y/N up even if they aren’t injured bridal style and carry them to a log or some sort of chair, bench or bed to sit down and heal.

“Y/N” He shouts, his voice louder than anything you had heard before, it was passionate and almost frantic. And yet, it almost sounded like a roar with the anger that was built up inside.

He rushed towards the dragon that had trapped me at the edge of a forest, its leaves barbed by rows of thorn bushes. To enter them would not only seal my fate, but also be a painful journey. And Evan was allowing neither. His cape bellowed, flickering before my eyes before I could clear the blood dripping from my head and traveling down my eye, his stance confident before the tall beast. He drew his long sword, sheathing it and wielding the heavy weapon between both hands.

I knew that Evan was the ‘dragon prince’ (even though I truly didn’t fully understand what that meant yet), but it still amazed me each time that just the mere look inside of his eyes and the gleam of his large sword made the firey creature cower, picking up its heavy wings, floating above the large scape of land. The grass shuddering beneath each audible flap, Evan’s gaze following the dragon as it rose in the air and turned away, disappearing behind the icy capped mountains in the distant lands. Evan instantly pivoted on his heels towards me, sheathing his sword back into its halter. I could hear the jingle of the chainmail on his armor and the buckle of his boots as he hurried towards me, lowering himself to my wounded position in the grass. He places a leathery, comforting hand on my cheek as he eyes the wound that to his relief, quickly crusted.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.” He says in that same cold tone he always uses. But there’s something oddly sweet with the way he scoops me up from under my knees, forcing my arms to flail around his shoulders, holding him tight as he carries me back to the kingdom like his bride.

“Is this truly necessary?” I ask, flustered. He only hums in response, not letting go. In fact, I swear I could feel his grip get tighter for a moment, adjusting me more comfortably in his arms. My eyes focused on his stubbly chin, his cape flickering behind him in the corner of my eye.

Headcanons:

(lore)

- He’s a dragon prince, so I think he would actually have some sort of DNA connection with the dragons/ spiritual one. His main defense mechanism against them being his ability to communicate with them, more in a telepathic sense. His eyes may glow yellow or have a more “dragon-like” appearance when he uses that part of himself

- He has a sword specifically made to pierce the tough scales of a dragon and is derived from special materials that are toxic to dragons

- Anyone can train a dragon in this world, but he has an easier time due to his communication ability, being able to tame them easier. He has lots of dragons who he is allied with who help me slay the other territories.

- There are multiple kingdoms made of dragons, and they go to war with each other, and humans can get crossed in this mix which is where he comes into the picture

- He’s sort of a hybrid mitigator for dragon-human wars, and even helps the dragon allies with their own turf wars

- His main duty is as a guard/ knight for the kingdom, he keeps watch for dragon attacks as well as humans. He used often as a weapon against dragons by the kingdom

- The royal family of the kingdom doesn’t recognize being a “dragon prince” as a real royal standing, so while he’s technically royalty and is part of a rare bloodline, he is not considered so by many. The highest ranking he has is being close to a commander/ knight, but only in the ordeal of dealing with dragons during war/ an attack

- He has his limits when it comes to slaying dragons. He will only slay dragons that are an active threat to the kingdom or someone he loves. He will never slay a dragon without a valid reason, and will negotiate with them before making any attacks

- He’s part of a royal bloodline, mixed between dragon and human, they’ve existed for thousands of years but were feared by many and slowly died out/ got colonized/ executed. He was abandoned/ his family was massacred when he was young and was found by a blacksmith of the kingdom when he was young. So he didn’t know he was part of the rare bloodline until he came in contact with a dragon when he was 13 and learned of his ability. His father then told him the truth of his origins and he began training as a knight to become a guard in the kingdom, thanks to the help of his adoptive father.

- He sometimes gets visions of the future, of course pertaining to things that involve dragons, but also premonitions of things that could lead to the end of the world. Dragons and humans are interlinked from ancient history, so certain clashes have almost led to the destruction of the world. There were a few ice ages and purges of life, but they eventually came back. Evan can get dreams/ spontaneous visions of these events due to his connection to both human and dragon and it’s essentially his job to keep order.

- There are others like him in the world, but because the bloodline has died out so much, they are rare to come by and most that are aware of what they are have hidden away in fear of being sought after and murdered for their powers.

- The kingdom where Evan lives needs his powers to survive in the kingdom because they live right on the edge of a mountain range where on the other side all the other dragon kingdoms reside, so they are more likely to get attacked or hit in a crossfire. Evan living there gets automatic protection, so he hasn’t left and is given fairly decent hospitality. He also has lived there his entire life and hasn’t put much thought into the outside world. Too focused on the job he has in his home to consider exploring or finding others

(relationship to Y/N)

- Y/N and Evan have known each other since they were kids. Around 6-7. They didn’t always get along, having a more frenemies relationship where they would pick on each other.

- As they got older they both became closer and better friends, relating on the fact that the other teens and children of the kingdom found them weird and they were both slowly isolating to each other

- They spent a lot of time together by the creek/ river, playing in the woods and skipping rocks

- They would both stay out together as long as they could, avoiding their own homes because not only did they not want the fun to end, but they both didn’t want to go back to their homes where their lives didn’t feel perfect or less lonely

- They found solace in their friendship together

- They each had their own separate dreams, Y/N wanted to explore the world outside the kingdom whereas Evan wanted to stay in the kingdom forever and become a knight. This caused them to start fighting again occasionally when the topic was brought up, and as they got even older, they began to distance themselves

- Y/N was the first to know about Evan’s connection to the dragons, having been there when they were playing by the edge of the woods and a dragon came and landed in front of them. Evan, being naturally protective, got in front of Y/N and found he could speak with the dragon and have an understanding. But Y/N, not having any such power just saw the two standing before each other for a few tense minutes before the dragon flew away

- They were both freaked by the incident at the time, and as they talked more about, became slightly excited. Evan already knew he wanted to use his talent to protect the kingdom, but Y/N believed he could do more with it. Like bringing peace between the humans and dragons for millenium.

- Eventually they both turned 18, and Y/N fled the kingdom and began traveling while Evan stayed and became a knight

- They spent at least a decade apart until Y/N came back to the kingdom with a group of thieves, helping them steal money from the townsfolk and hoping to steal the riches from the kingdom. They had their own reasons for doing so, mainly just trying to keep themselves alive and look out for themselves.

- Evan hears about the group of thieves that have entered the kingdom and is tasked with keeping them out of the castle. He catches one of them during a small ambush, realizing it’s Y/N he is confused, angry and distraught. They explain their reasoning for being a part of the group and the pair are still on rocky terms

- In return for not sending Y/N to jail, they come to an agreement/ deal that they will help him track down the rest of the thieves and imprison them

- They slowly reunite and warm back up to each other, remembering the old days as they spend time together getting into fights across the kingdom to find the thieves and catch them before they get to the castle, rekindling their once broken friendship

- They bond over their individual memories, Y/N telling Evan stories of the outside world and what they were doing, and Evan talking about his adventures as a knight and mitigating for the dragons and the kingdom

“You know, when we were kids, I had a huge crush on you.” I laughed as my stomach tickled, feeling the warm flames of the fire flickering, licking and trying to reach me from its cage of rocks and sticks, only getting a small tickle of warmth through the cold night air.

The stars were heavy above, twinkling like the ripples of water from the ocean. I could see Evan’s stoic face, outlined sharply by the yellow flames dancing across it. His cape draped over the back of the thick log he was perched upon. Despite the blank expression on his face, I swear I saw a twinkle in his eyes of surprise and that’s when I felt the air around us get thickly uncomfortable. The silence becomes stale and quieter, practically deafening if it weren't for the chirp of the crickets–which I call the birds of the night. It’s almost as if he can sense that his reaction has made things more awkward, because he lowers his gaze to the fire and says something I truly didn’t expect.

“Yeah, so did I.” His voice is soft, almost romantic in a way. I feel as if the wind has been knocked from my lungs. All this time, the boy–the man, who had been in the back of my mind all of these years. The one who got away, the one who I had never thought in a million years would ever love someone like me. He just admitted he had a crush on me? I could hardly fathom it, let alone hear it. I almost believed I was dreaming.

“Is it that surprising?” He asks curiously, as if I gave him an offended look, realizing that my eyes were probably blown into saucers after what he said because I feel him practically snap me out of a daze with those words, forcing my face to relax. I can almost see a smile stretch at the corner of his mouth after my expression softens, his gaze finally lifted back to me fully and searching my eyes.

“N-No I uh, I mean I just–I didn’t expect that. Really.” I said, my words tripping over themselves. There was that silence again, the loud ambience of the night filling my ears back up like cotton balls.

“You know…” I said slowly, breaking the silence, my eyes flickering around. Trying not to land my gaze back into his eyes as I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken, squeezing inside of my chest. “I still think you’re kind of handsome…” I almost hoped he hadn’t heard me, too flustered by the admittance. My feelings hadn’t changed for Evan since the day I left him, if anything they had gotten worse the moment I saw that it was him who had caught me that day. The way he was so strong, perfectly groomed, the chubby look on his face I had always pictured of him was gone and in return left with the most perfect frame. His light curls thick and fluffy against his head, the length I had remembered that always covered his eyes having been cut to a charming length revealing the deep black pits that were his irises. A color that could only be matched to the obsidian with the way it shimmered and yet there was no light inside of them, as if it was soaked up inside of them.

I gain the courage to look at him again and I’m shocked to see that a rosy tint has spread across the apples of his cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. His eyes wide, the obsidian black irises stark against his sclera, like a pebble. I cover my lips as I catch an escaped giggle at his expression and he quickly softens it, realizing how stupid his reaction must have been. Now he’s the one who can barely look me in the eye.

There was something different about the rest of that night, in the way that we looked at one another. More attentive, more passionate, something lingering in the distance. Words unspoken and yet so many told. I don’t think I would have traded it for anything.

May do a part two if this is popular. You can request a fic about this concept if you want ♡

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re