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gnocchibabie · 1 year ago

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Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly.

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds.

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it.

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides.

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off.

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye?

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.”

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit.

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.”

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind.

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them.

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him.

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint.

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.”

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir.

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.”

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying.

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard.

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue.

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more.

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips.

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves.

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties.

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.”

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can.

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together.

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression.

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly.

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?"

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate.

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie.

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact.

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought.

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc

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tanoraqui · 1 year ago

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Of Ghosts & Griffins

What do they worship? The Winged Lion, whom they mistake for a god?

It's so interesting how Izutsumi's cat is dominant in this place. I don't understand enough about soul magic or the spell that maintains this to know why. It FEELS right - this is a place for monsters, and that's the part of her that's a monster? But I bet there's worldbuilding that explains it...

WAIT, OR: that couple pages I reblogged with hte werewolf clearly implied that Izursumi isn't a human with a cat spirit put in her, she's a cat with a human spirit put in her. So maybe whatever enchantments shield and maintain the Golden Country bring the cat spirit to the fore as part of their preservative properties, doing their best to remove this curse upon the poor cat? Izutsumi doesn't change shape, just mind, because the souls are so mixed and/or the human soul is so much stronger than hte cat.

Who the fuck took a human soul and put it in a cat. Why would you do that I wonder if we'll ever know.

(The question of the comic is thus, of course: did Falin's soul get put inside a dragon's, in which case she'll be stuck with a dragonoid body at best, or did the dragon's get put inside Falin's, in which she should be able to shift back and forth at will once the Mage isn't forcibly holding the dragon's soul dominant?)

This is the most hobbitly we've seen Chilchuck. I keep expecting him to start talking about how his old gaffer used to drink down at the pub.

shadkjsh Chilchuck get your mind out of the gutter!

These would unironically do numbers at the right Met Gala. I unironically really like the middle, floral one. And specificially the crossed-antlers brassiere on the third.

They're dead! They're under a spell (a curse) of immortality so they can't change and they can't leave and nobody knows they exist and they can't make an impression on the world and nobody even really knows they did exist, not as individuals beyond a vague collective legend; and most of all they don't hunger, they don't want for anything in their bucolic life (except freedom or death) and they don't hunger for food, they don't eat and even if they do eat it they can't enjoy it, because they're immortal but in every single way that matters they are d e a d !

Alright my current theory is: this kingdom always venerated a winged lion deity, for whatever reason. Myths happen. Then one day, a demon slipped in from wherever demons slip in and disguised itself as the winged lion in order to be easily trusted by the populace. It started offering the fulfillment of desires in exchange for the consumption of other desires.

It tricked the Mage somehow, so that by their powers combined they turned the populace of this city into a feeding pen for the demon - safe and happy forever! being slowly drained of all their desires.

But as the people's desires started to run truly dry, until they were functionally dead, the demon grew hungry - and maybe greedy. So it sent the villagers this "prophetic dream" about one who would save them, motivating Delgal to get to the surface - probably with the demon's help, covert so the Mage wouldn't know; still pretending to be a god if Delgal himself knew. It let the dungeon be opened, drawing all sort of greedy and desperate people down into its feasting range.

...whatever trick/bargain it made with hte Mage, it's probably going to try to do much the same with Marcille, with her terror of loss.

P.S. I love how Yaad keeps calling him "Sir Laios" like he's a knight, instead of just some guy with good intentions who thinks monsters are neat. Also, Chilchuck literally just shaking his head at Laios.

Needless to say, the contrast between Laios's blind panic at being told he's a prophecied hero and king and Kabru's "If I had the ability to take over this dungeon and kingdom, I'd fix absolutely everything and no one would have any problems ever again" is hilarious and wonderful.

Laios basically just told that orc chieftain that he'd think about what he'd do as king, right? ...Well, I guess it's time for him to think about it.

THEIR HANDS ARE COLD BECAUSE THEY ARE D E A D.

Btw in a just world, Yaad would be a woman. Princess in a Tower vibes off the charts. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

I'M FINALLY PAST WHERE I GOT IN THE SHOW!!

I see this translation is calling the Mad Mage "Sissel." Just as its decision to call her the "lunatic magician", I deem this to be a stupid-ass decision and have elected to ignore it in favor of "Thistle", which is a much better name for a weird elf orphan turned mad mage.

Ah, damn, they corrected to he/him pronouns. So much for women's wrongs... I STAND BY it making perfect sense in-universe for our protagonists to get it wrong from their first, confusing meeting, though!

Takin' a moment to appreciate Thistle's fucked up pupils, which I'm given to understand indicate the demon's influence. I'm having so much fun! Are you having fun? I'm having fun.

...does the famous dwarvish sense of direction derive in part from secret dwarvish trail markers that they put in all dungeons and mines and never tell other species about? That's great. That's so good. They clearly do ALSO have sensitive inner ears, and secret cultural practices.

Btw I adore every time someone calls Chilchuck "Chil." NICKNAMES ARE A SIGN OF LOVE.

SEEING SENSHI IN DISTRESS MAKES ME IN DISTRESS, AND THEN YOU DROP HIM LIKE THE FOOTBALL ON A CHAPTER CLIFFHANGER?! JAIL! JAIL FOR AUTHOR! JAIL FOR 1000 YEARS!!!

This map is 10/10 desired detail. I want to know the difference between dwarf-style, gnome-style, compound and I bet elf-style dungeons so bad.

Marcille just cut off one of her braids for Senshi! She didn't hesitate at all! Her hair!!!

And they're risking basically all their food on this! (Man I love how all life, including revivification and creating familiars, literally requires heavy caloric input. I love love love how this comic starts with the simple premise "food is essential to life" and says it over and over in infinite ways.)

This is just very cool art to represent what's happening. I don't like looking at it, it makes my eye hurt.

This visual is just so good.

Brotp: In-Laws on a Mission

unironically this panel fucks so hard. I need to name something after this. I also need to watch this episode just for the intense energy of this whole sequence.

(I Love how they're just squeezing and re-shaping these things like playdoh. Good familiars best friends just to tolerate this shit.)

Btw I also really like that, while Marcille has started teaching Laios some simple healing spells, that's kept clearly distinct from this sort of advanced magic. Multiclassing takes levels just like the rest!

TWO-SHOT KO ON A GRIFFIN! Have I mentioned how fun it is that these guys are fucking good at their jobs? We love a little competence porn on the side.

CHILCHUCK WAS THE FIRST TO START TALKING ABOUT HIS PAST! Yes, of course, he had to be. He's the one who's most aggressively closed-off about it, as opposed to passively closed off like the rest. Mulitple good panels here fo Chilchuck being the emotionally intelligent one, too.

oh my god Senshi's story.

I'm so glad she keeps putting them in full-body animal suits.

(And I feel Hiromu Arakawa's cowsona in the Chili's tonight...)

P.S. OH, LAST MINUTE EDITION as I open the next chapter: They all changed species before they stepped in hte circle of change-your-species mushrooms!! Oh man I can't wait to see a) shenanigans and b) how this gets woven into the ongoing subplot of interspecies conflict, and any other greater themes. Fuck me uuupp Ryoko Kui! (...tomorrow, bc I have to go to bed now :( )

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 4 months ago

Text

Love and Other Curses - Part Two

Pairing: Dragon!Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 10k

Part 2 Summary: You've discovered the Prince’s secret identity, and finally understand the reason why he revoked his proposal of marriage. But as the two of you continue to fall for each other, can you convince Marcus that not only will you marry him just as he is, but also that your love is the key to breaking an ancient curse on an entire kingdom?

Warnings: Extreme cheese and flowery language; shape-shifting Marcus Pike; curses; implied virgin reader; arranged-ish marriage; yearning and self-loathing that will break your little heart; non-human genitalia; human-dragon hybrids; kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, extreme size difference of genitalia; PiV sex, oral sex (m reciving), a bit of monster!cock worship because HE DESERVES IT. Let me know if I missed something.

A/N: There are two epilogues on this baby because I didn't want it to end. Moodboard with the assistance of @pedropascalsx who worked her magic and made Dragon!Marcus come to life in all his dark green and iridescent glory <3 Sorry for the delay on this! I was at a conference for most of this week. Was hoping I'd have some free time to post it, but as you can see... I did not :) ENJOY!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part One

You wake up with Marcus’s name on your lips, the image of his naked body seared in your memory.

You don’t know what came over you last night. You pushed him too hard, demanding answers that he was hardly ready to give you, and you’re sure that the aftereffects would be felt for days–the prince holding you at arm's length, closing himself off to you in the same way he’s closed himself off from the world for so many years. Would he even be there for dinner tonight?

Your stomach churns with unease, so rather than take your usual breakfast, you dress and go outside to walk through your favorite garden to clear your head. It’s quieter than usual this morning; the birds seem unusually timid. You look to the horizon, wondering if the weather is going to turn, when you see the reason for their quiet: the glint of dark, iridescent green poking up from behind a tall hedge. You sigh, your lips pulling into a crooked smile despite your heavy mood. Perhaps it’s a good sign that he can’t seem to stay away from you, even when he’s hurting. Your pace quickens.

“I’m beginning to see a pattern to your behavior, dear dragon,” you say gently as you come around the hedge to find your beloved beast lying on the grass, looking as forlorn as a dragon can. His golden eyes stare at you questioningly.

“Yes, I’ve figured it out,” you continue as you sink down to your knees beside his large head. “Whenever you’re feeling too vulnerable to face me as a man, you take this form instead.”

Dragon-Marcus doesn’t bother protesting, but you can tell by the worry in his eyes that you’re correct.

“That’s why you didn’t come for me yourself after you sent me that letter,” you add, the realization dawning on you as you speak. “You were too scared: What if I didn’t show? What if I found you to be objectionable as a man? What if—”

The beast closes his eyes in shame and tries to turn his head away from you.

“No, stop,” you whisper, tears welling up in your eyes as he turns away. You decide not to let him, scooting along on your knees until you’re in front of him again. “I didn’t think any of those things, you silly creature.”

You reach up to run your hand up and down the bridge of the dragon’s snout, soothing him. In his animal form, it’s so much easier to understand his pain. Animals express their emotions so much more readily than humans, you think to yourself. Despite his enormous size–and the fact that you know that he can turn back into a man if he wanted–this moment reminds you of times growing up when you’d calmed a feral cat, or befriended a mistreated dog… and it makes you realize just how similar humans are to other creatures. Or, perhaps, how much more like humans animals are than people realize.

Dragon-Marcus moves again, but instead of turning away, he lays his massive head on your lap. He doesn’t put much of his weight on you–you think even his head might crush you–but rather gently rests it there, a show of affection… and trust.

In turn, you lean forward and press your upper body against him, laying your head just above one of his large golden eyes. “Silly beast,” you say again, sniffling a little as you do, “I think I might love you no matter what form you take.”

The dragon makes a soft rumble of surprise, a question if you’ve ever heard one. His head lifts again, moving until both of his eyes are looking right at you.

“Is that so strange?” you ask softly. Before you can think better of it, you lean forward, pressing your lips to the top of his snout. His scales are warm and smooth against them, and your eyes flutter closed as you imagine Marcus as a man, his large hands holding your face in place as he kisses you back.

That night, Marcus’s gold waistcoat matches the gold embroidery on your midnight blue gown. When you open the door at his cautious knock, you can’t help but reach out and touch the fabric, placing your palm on his chest with your heart in your throat. You want to throw your arms around him, but suddenly, you find that you’re also too scared to act when he’s a man–tall and muscular and hot-blooded–and looking at you as though you were an oasis after he’d been wandering in the desert for weeks.

“How do you do that?” you laugh softly, your voice only wavering a little as you trace your finger over the gold material.

The prince’s smile is warm and teasing. “You have to allow me some secrets.”

He holds out his arm for you, but you hesitate, hating the chasm that seems as though it’s growing between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring up at him with sorrowful eyes. “Last night�� I was rude–”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his expression full of pain. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I–I frightened you.” “No you didn’t,” you counter softly.

“Regardless,” Marcus says, “I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”

“I feel much the same,” you tell him. “Perhaps we could start over?”

The prince smiles, slowly and hesitantly. “Y-Yes,” he whispers with gratitude. “Yes, let's start over.”

You carefully slip your fingers into the crook of his arm before he can even offer it, wanting to feel the comforting warmth of his skin beneath yours. Neither of you speak as you walk to dinner, and even after the awkward exchange, the silence still feels comfortable and companionable.

As usual, the palace cooks offer a veritable feast, the table laden with far too much food for only two people. Several servers lay down their trays and back away quickly as the butler fills your glasses with wine.

“Thank you.” You smile politely at the butler. As usual, he doesn't answer you or return your smile. He nods curtly and exits again without turning around.

“I don't think your servants like me all that much,” you comment with a sad sigh.

“It isn't you. They fear me,” Marcus explains.

A peal of laughter escapes you before you can stop yourself and the prince’s eyebrows raise in surprise at your mirth.

“But–” you sputter out, still giggling, “–you're the kindest and gentlest person I've ever met.”

Marcus’s eyes suddenly turn melancholy. “It is a well-known fact in this kingdom that those with my… affliction…” he drops his gaze to his plate, poking at his potatoes with his fork. “Well, let’s just say that it's only a matter of time before we lose our humanity.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I traveled with you for nine days as a dragon, and you were just as gentle then as you are now.”

“It won’t always be that way,” he says bitterly. “Sooner or later, the beast takes over. Throughout history, everyone has always succumbed to the monster.”

“And so they fear you,” you exhale softly, thinking to yourself. “And they leave you alone.”

“I told you,” Marcus murmurs. “It’s a lonely life.”

“Any person would lose their humanity in solitude,” you say, sitting up straighter in your chair, looking wide-eyed at the prince. “Perhaps the madness isn’t caused by what you think it is. Perhaps it’s… self-fulfilling: everyone has either isolated themselves, or pushed others away due to their fear, and they become the beast because there’s nothing left to be human for.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What if the ancient text you found was right all along? Love is the answer, not because of magic, but because love is found in other people!” You smile triumphantly; you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life.

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Marcus says sadly.

“What?”

“It’s too late for me.”

“You still have your humanity,” you argue indignantly.

“The transformation has already begun,” he points out, his voice dark and haunted. “I was too late.”

You swallow thickly as you think about what he showed you the night before. It was shocking, yes, and intimidating… but something about it fascinated you, and you’ve thought of little else but finding a way to see it again.

“Perhaps it will reverse in time,” you concede, although you find yourself wishing that weren’t true.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Even still,” you continue, refusing to believe that the thoughtful and good-hearted man before you could ever turn into a monster, “a physical transformation does not necessarily mean a mental one.”

“I… appreciate your persistence, I truly do,” Marcus sighs, his shoulders slumped in resignation, “but even if you are correct, I cannot, in good conscience, bind you to a man who can’t even give you a wedding night.”

There’s a finality to his tone that tells you to drop the subject. Any further coaxing would likely shut him down again altogether, and you couldn’t bear to see the pain in his eyes last night when he ordered you away as though his heart would break.

“I want to play a game,” you announce cheerfully, hoping to bring him out of his hopelessness. “The study with the fireplace, I noticed it had a chess board in it.”

Marcus brightens. “You know how to play?”

You press your lips together guiltily. “I don’t. My family never had one. But…” you bite your lip, looking up at him shyly, “perhaps you could teach me?”

“Should I call you by another name while you’re like this?”

You’re walking through the garden again with the dragon–who is also Marcus, the prince, but it feels rather odd to call this beast ‘Marcus.’

Rather than answer, he noses one of the flowering bushes.

“This one?”

Huff.

You smile and clip one of the blooms, adding it to the growing collection in your basket. You’d wanted a bouquet in your room, you told the beast when you saw him wandering the palace grounds this morning, and that he should help you choose it. And so here you are, strolling together, picking flowers for your bedside table.

“I could call you… Greenie,” you tease as you select a peach-colored rose and add it to the pile.

The dragon snorts in amused indignation, strongly enough that a little spark bursts through the air and lands on a patch of grass, starting a small fire. You raise your eyes in surprise as you quickly extinguish the ember with the bottom of your shoe.

“Can… can you breathe fire?” you ask him, stunned at this talent he’s hidden from you.

Huff.

“Wait–when we were attacked by wolves that horrible night… why didn’t you do that before they jumped on you and hurt you?”

The dragon turns and faces you head-on, giving you a serious, solemn stare.

“What?”

Still giving you that earnest look, he nudges your shoulder with his snout.

“Oh,” you exhale as comprehension dawns. “Because of me. I can imagine the fires could easily get out of hand. You didn’t want to risk burning me.”

The beast nods and gently nudges you again, and your heart bursts with affection.

“Sweet, gentle creature,” you whisper, kissing the bridge of his nose. “You’re five times the size of the largest horse, and yet I imagine you could hold one of these flowers between your massive teeth and not damage a single petal. How could I ever believe that you’d hurt me–as beast or man?”

The dragon closes his eyes as you lean into each other for a quiet moment before pulling away and looking at you once more with those deep, brown-and-gold orbs.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” you tell him, tenderly tracing the scar underneath. “I think that’s why I always knew. The moment you approached me in the garden, I felt as though I’d known you for an age.”

You begin walking again, your attention caught by something that looks similar to purple wisteria growing near the little fish pond you’re so fond of.

“I want to be married out here,” you whisper as you carefully clip a sprig of purple. “I-I mean, if we married. If… if you wanted to–” you stammer.

The dragon suddenly spreads its wings and launches into the sky, the blast of air sending your basket tumbling to the ground, its contents spilling out over the cobblestone. “Hey!” you cry in frustration as you watch him streak rapidly across the sky and around the castle, out of sight. “You… you irritating man!”

Forgetting your bouquet, you stalk angrily across the grounds. You’re going to find him, this infuriating prince who flees whenever you seem to get closer. You’re going to find him and give him a piece of your mind.

You throw open the castle door and shriek in surprise as Marcus is there, wide-eyed with surprise himself, his hand still held aloft as if to push the door open.

“You!” you cry, uselessly shoving at his chest. “You have no right to–”

The prince surges forward, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you deeply. You make one final noise of protest before you melt, meeting his desperation with equal measure. He kisses you like he no longer needs air, like his entire world depends on your lips on his. He kisses you like he loves you. And you kiss him back.

“Where–” he gasps breathlessly between more hungry kisses. “Where are–” kiss “–the flowers?”

Rather than answer, you kiss him again, and Marcus hums in contentment. The deep sound vibrates throughout your body, too, and you gasp softly, trying to catch your breath. When you open his mouth to him, though, he tilts his head and deepens the kiss instead. At the touch of his tongue sliding gently against yours, your knees wobble as you whimper into his mouth. Marcus’s strong arm wraps around you and holds you steady, and for the first time you can feel the whole of his body pressing against you.

His chest his broad, his stomach soft, and all of him impossibly warm. And further down–oh, you can feel him, thick and long and rock hard against your stomach. Your knees threaten to buckle further, so you cling to his shoulders for dear life as he licks further into your mouth.

“Oh, Marcus,” you murmur as he slides his lips over to your cheek, nipping gently at your jawline.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps roughly. “I wanted to wait–I wanted—until after dinner, but you said–you said those things about–about marrying me in the garden, and–”

“Of course I–” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“No, wait–I have…” he reluctantly releases you to reach into his pocket. “I didn’t want to wait one more moment. Just… please, if you’ll still have me.” He produces a large, deep green emerald, and his eyes are wild and searching as he takes both of your hands in his free hand and holds the ring up to show you. “I wanted to give you this the moment I first saw you sitting in the garden, but I promised myself I’d try to let you go, after–after what happened.”

“It will be okay,” you whisper, your lips trembling with emotion as you smile tearfully. “We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to let me go.”

“I don’t think I can,” Marcus admits solemnly. “I want you by my side always, my lifelong companion. I asked this in a letter to you once, but I want to ask you again, face to face–now that we truly know each other. Dearest… will you marry me?”

You let out a happy sob as you nod furiously. “Of course I will.”

Marcus chokes out a little laugh of his own as he gently slides the emerald onto your left hand. “Dearest,” he whispers, palming your cheek after he finishes with his task, “you’re trembling. Are you—you’re not—”

“I’m not scared,” you promise. “You could never scare me.”

“Foolish,” he murmurs, but he lowers his head to meet you again in a gentle kiss.

“When will it be?” you ask over dinner. Rather than sit in the formal dining hall, the two of you are seated on the floor next to the roaring fireplace in your favorite sitting room. The bouquet you picked this morning sits on the low table between two soft chairs, the two of you having gone back to collect the fallen flowers after Marcus’s hasty retreat from the garden.

“When will what be?” the prince asks, looking over at you tenderly.

“The wedding, of course.”

“Oh,” he chuckles softly. “Whenever you want.”

“Tomorrow?” you suggest, only half-joking.

Marcus blinks, his lips parting in surprise. “Oh–well, I had hoped to at least make some preparations around the castle,” he says with a small, worried frown. “And we’ll need someone to officiate…” he presses his lips together, thinking. “One week from today?” he asks hopefully.

You smile widely. “One week from today,” you agree.

He gently taps his glass against yours, and you both drink to seal the promise.

Hours later, after dinner has long-since been finished, the two of you remain by the fire, lying entwined on the soft rug. You lazily watch the embers pop and hiss, the flames warming your face as Marcus’s body warms your back. His fingers trail up and down your bare shoulder, and you shiver despite the heat.

You turn in his arms, facing your intended. “I don’t want to wait a week,” you admit in a hushed voice.

He presses his lips to your forehead in response, and then pulls back, looking at you, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Marcus,” you whisper.

“I know,” he soothes, tracing your jawline with one finger. “I know.”

Your lips meet again, even more passionately than before. Every time you kiss, you both seem to grow bolder and more impatient, until your fingers are clutching desperately at his collar and Marcus’s hand is sliding dangerously down to grasp your hipbone. You press ever closer, seeking the soft strength of his body and the hard, thick ridge between you that he doesn’t bother to hide. Something deep inside of you aches, an emptiness so profound that you know can only be filled by him and you tremble with want, with the desire to feel whole again.

Somehow, in this desperate scramble of bodies, you find yourself on your back, with Marcus pressing down on top of you, his legs on either side of you as he kisses down your throat and to your collarbone, stopped only by the hem of your dress.

You squirm helplessly, your hand trying to reach the buttons in the back and crying out in frustration when you can’t get purchase on them.

“Shh, let me,” Marcus whispers. “Turn over for me, dearest.”

You twist in his arms, coming to rest on your stomach as your prince gently unfastens one button at a time, kissing each inch of newly revealed skin until he reaches the small of your back. Slowly, you turn back around, holding his gaze with your heart in your throat as you start to drag the front of the dress down.

“You don’t have to–” Marcus murmurs, even as he hungrily rakes his eyes over your form.

“It’s only fair,” you tease softly, giving him a shaky, nervous smile.

The prince flushes deeply and looks away in embarrassment. You sit up, reaching for his jaw and turning his face back toward you as you remove the dress, and then the slip underneath, leaving you bare to him.

Marcus’s fingers are trembling as he traces the swell of one breast, his dark amber eyes watching the path of his hand on your body. You reach for him, pulling uselessly at the buttons of his shirt until he gets the hint and rips it off himself, leaving him bare-chested. He lowers you back down to the rug, then, and you gasp at the feel of skin on skin. His lips are everywhere–kissing your lips, your neck, down to your breasts, before gently taking one nipple in his mouth and chuckling softly as your back rises off of the floor with a sharp gasp.

“Please,” you whimper over and over, “Please.”

Your fingers reach for the straining tip of his huge erection, and he hisses as you make contact. He grasps your hand, bringing it to his mouth instead to kiss each fingertip in turn as he shakes his head. “Not tonight–not that. You’re not ready.”

“Marcus–” you whine squirming your hips against the solid bulge.

“One week,” he promises. “Not until our wedding night.” He kisses your lips softly again. “I want you to be ready,” he whispers against your mouth. “You’re not ready yet–but I can change that.”

His dark eyes are full of promise when he instructs, “Lay back.”

Your chest heaves lightly with anticipation as you comply, but you trust your intended completely and utterly. He holds your gaze as he slides down your body, until his lips are inches from the soft thatch of hair at your center.

“Do you trust me?” he asks softly, and you nod immediately.

Satisfied, Marcus gently spreads your legs apart with one hand until you’re on display before him. His breath shakes as he looks at you in awe, his lip trembling with want before he lowers his head and buries himself between your thighs.

You cry out immediately at the feeling of his lips on your core. It’s too intimate, too overwhelming, and you’re so worked up that each lick of his tongue sends sparks up and down your entire body. You gasp and squirm and tremble, and Marcus has to hold you steady with one hand as he seems to bury himself even deeper–his nose rubbing against the little bud at your apex and his tongue flicking back and forth inside of you. You can’t control your body, the noises you’re making–nothing matters except for this, except for Marcus’s mouth on you, in you, causing the ache building inside you to grow, until–

“Oh!”

Something breaks inside of you, you’re sure of it. Your core clenches around Marcus’s tongue over and over again as waves of pleasure hit you. Just when the sensation is too much, he finally pulls back, and you collapse back onto the rug, panting with exertion.

“Again,” he rasps, his lips glossy and eyes bright with hunger. “Please.”

All you can do is nod, and Marcus lowers his head again.

The feeling of his mouth on you is just as delicious as the last time, but this time, he slips one finger deep inside you, and you arch off of the rug with a broken cry of his name.

“I know,” he whispers, soothing you. “I know it’s a lot. Can you take another?”

You’re desperate for it. The emptiness still aches inside of you, and you want him to make it go away.

“Please,” you whimper.

The second finger is harder, and you whine softly as he enters you again. Marcus laps gently at the little bundle of nerves, and the wave of pleasure it produces helps to ease his way inside. Slowly, slowly, he begins to move them in and out, never taking his mouth off of you as he slides against your walls. It’s even better than before, it’s incandescent–you’ve never felt anything like this–and then his fingers curl upward, seeming to hit something deep within you that has you shaking and crying out as you fall apart in his arms once more.

You think you might sleep. All you know is, when you open your eyes again an eternity later, Marcus is still holding you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss on your forehead and whispering soft praises against your skin.

“It’s late,” he murmurs when he feels you stir. “We should go to bed.”

“Don’t,” you murmur, clutching at him. “Don’t go.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he promises. “But we can’t sleep here on the stone floor.”

Marcus sits up and lifts you effortlessly into his arms. You immediately tuck your head into his shoulder and he stands, carrying you–still naked, but you can’t find it in you to care–to his quarters and laying you on his bed before draping the warm blankets over you and climbing in beside you. You curl into him, seeking his warmth, before falling asleep once again.

You never want to spend a single night alone again–and it doesn’t seem like the prince would allow it, even if you did. He seems to have an insatiable hunger to be near you–taking your hand in his when you walk in the garden, kissing your shoulder when you read by the fire, tangling your legs together when you eat your meals, and of course, the way he takes you apart with fingers and tongue every single night.

Every time, he gives you more–two fingers, then three, then four–and you take it all greedily. You know what he’s doing; you remember the size of him as he stood before you that fateful night: his entire length must be the width of his whole hand, perhaps even thicker at the base. He’s preparing you–so patiently, so lovingly–but the notion of taking all of him on your wedding night frightens you as much as it excites you.

The castle becomes busier over the next several days, as preparations are made for your upcoming nuptials. Flowers are placed everywhere, musicians are hired, and the best baker in all the kingdom is summoned for your cake.

“Will there be many people?” you ask as you walk through the newly flower-lined halls.

Marcus frowns, shaking his head. “I told you, the entire kingdom fears me.”

Pain stabs through your heart at his words. You’re going to fix this. You must. “Then what is all the fuss for?”

The prince cocks his head in confusion as he smiles at you. “Why, it’s for you.”

Your mouth drops open. “Just me?”

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course. I thought you knew.”

“You needn’t go through all of this trouble just for me,” you say, amused.

Marcus palms your cheek and traces his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone as he looks at you thoughtfully. “I want to,” he says simply.

On the night before your wedding, Marcus is quiet, his mood more subdued. Since your official engagement, he’s been incandescent–smiling more, laughing and joking playfully, even twirling you around to no music at all. You wonder if it had only been a distraction, if he’s still secretly terrified of the monster he’s so certain he’ll become.

“Are you all right?” you ask quietly over dinner, placing your hand over his and looking at him worryingly.

“I–I must ask a favor,” he replies, not meeting your eyes.

“Anything.”

“This has been the most wonderful week of my life, spending every minute by your side,” he begins, looking nervous.

You beam. “I’m so glad–”

“But I–” he swallows, troubled.

“Go on,” you prompt him gently.

“I must tell you that I… become restless, if I don’t… transform. It feels a little as though there’s a muscle that won’t stretch, or a pang of hunger that won’t be sated, if I don’t… feel the wind on my face, just for a short time. It won’t take long,” Marcus assures you.

“You’re seeking my permission?” you ask, confused as to why he would feel as though he had to ask.

“It pains me to leave you alone in my–in our bed,” he says regretfully. “But I–I need… In order to be completely present, completely human… I need this tonight.”

You lean forward, taking his face in both of your hands, soothing him. “You don’t have to ask,” you tell him patiently. “I love you exactly as you are, scales and all.”

Marcus stares at you in utter reverence. “The day I first laid eyes on you… I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams…” he murmurs, full of wonderment.

“I think it was the magic,” you say confidently. “It brought you to me.”

“That, or your stubbornness,” he teases, playfully chucking you under your chin.

“What will you do?” you ask. “Tonight, I mean. Where will you go?”

Marcus shrugs. “Probably just fly around for a little while, shake the cobwebs off. Maybe–” he flushes, ducking his head bashfully, “–find a deer, or something. I wasn't kidding about the hunger.”

“Promise you'll take me with you, one day,” you whisper. You close your eyes, remembering how sunsets look from high in the air, how exhilarating it was when he would swoop towards the ground.

Marcus is quiet for a few moments, watching you. Then, suddenly, his lips curl into a mischievous, boyish grin as he extends his hand. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Let's go,” he says, the gold flecks in his eyes seeming to sparkle. “Now. Tonight.”

As comprehension dawns, your smile spreads to match his. Giddily, you grab his hand, and the two of you rush from the hall and out into the twilight.

“Don't look.”

“Why not?”

“Just… don't, okay?” Marcus wheedles. “Turn around.”

You sigh in mock exasperation and obey. “Why can't I see?”

“It's not exactly pretty, shape-shifting,” he says from behind you. “And besides… I typically undress, so I don't rip any clothes to shreds.”

“You're naked as a dragon?” you squeak.

“Dragons don't wear clothes,” Marcus says defensively, and you dissolve into giggles until you hear the sound of giant footsteps behind you.

You grin instinctively at the sight of the dragon. In the low light of dusk, his scales are a deep, smoky green, and the light of the full moon causes his wings to shimmer with muted purples and blues. He shakes his massive head back and forth much like a dog shaking itself dry after a swim, and, as his wings stretch out to their full length, he lets out a deep sigh.

You're standing near a mostly-empty shed near the castle stables. Mostly empty, because Marcus’s discarded clothes are now there, and the large leather saddle that you first sat upon during your journey takes up the majority of the small building. An attendant appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to assist in buckling the straps around the creature’s massive belly.

You give dragon-Marcus a quick hug around his snout before gleefully hopping into the saddle and securing yourself tight.

You've come a long way from your first time. Rather than cling to the saddle for dear life, squeeze your eyes shut, and pray for the ordeal to end, you watch in anticipation as the dragon’s wings spread wide, then shriek in delight as they begin to beat loudly and you take to the skies.

The moon and stars seem almost reachable up here. Keeping one hand holding tight to the leather, you give into temptation and raise the other, stretching out your fingers and pretending to catch the clouds themselves. You can tell that Marcus is going faster than he used to with you by the way the moisture is drawn from your eyes and across your cheeks. His wings still and stiffen as he glides and swoops through the night air, and you can't stop smiling as your stomach seems to rise and fall with each change in altitude.

Finally, after what must have been many miles traveled but only an hour or so in the air, he gracefully touches down in a lush meadow near a tall outcrop of rocky cliffs and lowers down to let you off. A loud, rushing noise disturbs the quiet night and at first, you think it's the wind blowing violently through the trees, but you realize quickly that the leaves are completely still.

You look around, confused, searching for the source of the noise, but the moon is behind a small cloud, and it's too dark to see anything. You give Marcus a questioning glance, and he jerks his head toward the cliffs. As you walk closer to inspect them, the moon breaks free and moonlight gleams down on the two of you, making Marcus’s wings erupt with brilliance, illuminating the meadow, and revealing the tall, narrow waterfall that cascades into a small lagoon at the foot of the cliffs.

You shoot a tear-filled smile over at dragon-Marcus. You know he chose this destination with you in mind without having to ask. He shuffles forward and opens his gigantic jaws wide to catch the falling water, and you laugh as it splashes everywhere, falling into his eyes and sends little droplets onto your dress. You reach your hand out as you carefully step closer, reaching as far as you can without falling into the water, until you can finally catch some of the cascade in your palm.

You bend down, wiggling your fingers in the little lagoon, and find that it's still slightly warm from the late spring sun. A wild, silly idea flashes through your mind, and the moment you make eye contact with the dragon, you can tell from the sudden narrowing of his eyes that he has an inkling of what you're about to do. He gently shakes his head back and forth, but you're already rising to your feet and stepping backward, your hands coming to the back of your dress to undo the buttons.

Marcus growls low in warning, but you only laugh as you make quick work of your dress and underclothing, and, stark nude in the moonlight, you jump into the water with a triumphant whoop.

Your cheer turns into a yelp when the water turns out to be much colder than you expected.

Trying not to shiver, you look back at the shore. If a dragon could look unimpressed, Marcus certainly does now.

“Come in!” you call out. “The water is fine!”

The dragon snorts, and turns away–but you discover quickly that this was intended to be a feint. Before you can react, to swim away or cover your face, he jumps.

One may as well have thrown a small house into the little pool. The wave is so colossal that you're surprised there's any water left. It soaks you completely from head to toe, and the sudden rush of cold sends a shockwave through your body.

“You… beast!” you shove at his belly uselessly.

Marcus whuffs and shakes his head, clearly laughing at you, and you can't help but join in, although your lip is beginning to tremble. Still, you aren't going to let the cold deter you from your goal: you stride forward toward the waterfall until it's pounding down on your head. You raise your arms up overhead and tip your head back, taking full advantage of the shower.

With your eyes closed, you don't see the dragon move to block the water until it ceases thundering down on you. Looking up, you laugh again as you see Marcus trying to crowd unsuccessfully underneath the same waterfall.

You lose track of how long the two of you play in the water. You alternate between swimming back and forth and ducking in and out of the waterfall until your fingers are pruned and you're boneless with exhaustion.

When you finally get out of the water, you're shaking uncontrollably.

“I'm-m an i-imbec-cile,” you manage to stammer out. “W-Way too c-cold.”

You're sure Marcus would agree if he could, but rather than give you a derisive snort, he hums deep in his throat, a little noise of concern as he curls one wing around you.

You whimper pitifully and press against the warm, soft scales of his belly as his wing shields you from the chilly air.

“Forgot how… w-warm you are,” you murmur, closing your eyes in contentment. You'll dress in a minute and you'll fly back to the castle, just as soon as you stop shivering…

You don't remember falling asleep.

When you open your eyes again, the bright sun is forcing its way in through the gap between Marcus’s wing and his body. You gasp, sitting up in alarm.

“Marcus. Marcus! The wedding!” You probably should have thought before startling a great winged beast curled up next to you, but thankfully he only jerks slightly upon waking, a confused, sleepy rumble vibrating your body.

You both jump up and stare at each other in sheer panic before you start laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. You grab your dress and pull it on, but while you can manage to undo the buttons on the back yourself, fastening them back up is another thing entirely. You give up with a frustrated cry and decide to leave the thing loose. You don't bother with shoes, as your feet are still muddy from the late-night swim. Barefoot, and with your dress hanging open, you jump on the dragon's back and fasten yourself in before laughing, “Go! Go!”

You shoot into the sky with a surprised scream of terror.

“Too fast! Too fast!” you yelp, but Marcus's only response is a loud roar. You hang on for dear life as you rocket through the sky back to the castle, alternating between screaming in terror and laughing until your lungs ache.

In no time at all, the castle is approaching rapidly. Marcus touches down–less gracefully than usual–near the front gate, directly in front of the disapproving eyes of your maidservant, Annette.

You stumble off of his back with muddy feet and your dress hanging open in the back. One look back at dragon-Marcus has you dissolving into peals of laughter once more, and you slump forward onto his snout for one last giggling kiss on the tip of his nose before he takes to the skies again–presumably to get ready for the wedding that you both might still be late for.

You scurry down the halls after Annette–still giggling under your breath and smiling from ear to ear as though it were the best day of your life. And, you suppose, it is… so far. You have a feeling that the best days with your husband-to-be are still ahead of you.

Annette, however, looks as though she's preparing for a funeral rather than a wedding.

He's a good man,” you insist as she scrubs the evidence of last night's adventure off of your body in the bathtub. “The curse isn't what you think it is.”

“You are still a stranger in these lands,” Annette says. “You don't understand what you are dealing with.”

“I understand my husband,” you say confidently. “And I believe in his humanity, and in mine. The entire kingdom can turn away, but I never will.”

“I will give the prince credit,” Annette says with a small, affectionate smile in your direction. “If he was to choose the one woman who could break his curse through sheer force of will, he chose correctly.”

“Then believe me when I tell you this,” you say with a soft smile. “There is no amount of curse that could dull our love for each other, and that's why we will always prevail.”

“The longer I know you,” your maidservant says as you towel off, “the more I know that to be true.”

Your heart begins to pound as you're helped into the ornate white gown that has held a place of honor in your closet even before you arrived at the castle. Annette fastens the necklace you had chosen from the castle vault earlier this week: a sparkling cascade of emeralds that match your ring–and the beautiful deep-green hue of Marcus's dragon form–perfectly. The way in which the jewels glitter on your neck give off the illusion of scales themselves, and you smile at the subtle homage to the first form in which you met–and loved–your intended.

It feels like fate, like this moment was written in the stars at the beginning of time. And now, as the lace veil is placed over your head, you're ready.

Your garden is even more decadent than usual. Flower petals cover the stone pathways, with more gently cascading from the trees above as you walk slowly through the hedges toward the prince. He's waiting for you under an archway laden with wisteria, and you smile as you notice that, due to the man's height, some of the blossoms are disturbing his hair.

Your gazes are locked on each other as you slowly approach. Marcus’s eyes are bright with emotion, his lips parted in awe at the sight of his bride.

You long to launch yourself into his arms as soon as you come to stand next to him, but you force yourself to stand still and dignified as the officiant gently winds a braided gold cord around your joined hands.

Marcus’s voice breaks only a little as you recite the ancient vows:

I promise to be your grounding strength, like the earth beneath us. I vow to bring joy, like the gentle breeze that lifts your spirit. I will be your warmth, like the fire that keeps us safe, and I promise to flow with you, like water, through all the changes of our lives. With these cords, I bind myself to you, in love and respect, in all seasons.

The music swells and more petals cascade down upon the two of you as you share your first kiss as a married couple.

“Thank you,” Marcus whispers against your lips. “Oh, dearest, thank you.”

Night falls, and yet the two of you still dance slowly together in the garden, kissing and laughing and talking together. You've celebrated, you've feasted, and now all that remains is the rest of your lives, forever entwined.

And, of course, your wedding night. As darkness falls, your kisses grow fuller with promise, until you finally whisper, “Take me to bed, Marcus.”

There's a fire already blazing in the fireplace in Marcus’s quarters. You stand patiently facing the bed as the prince carefully unfastens every tiny button at the back of your wedding dress, unlaces your corset, and slides off your undergarments. He takes your hand as you step forward, away from the pile of discarded clothing. Only the emerald necklace remains, the jewels sparking in the firelight and looking all the more like dragon scales.

You reach back to find the clasp at the base of your neck, but Marcus stops you with an awe-filled smile.

“Leave it on,” he requests quietly.

His eyes are dark with lust as he lays you down on the bed you now share. “I want you to promise me,” he rasps huskily, “that you'll tell me if it hurts. If it's too much.”

“Love, it won't hu–”

“Promise.”

You palm his cheek gently. “I promise.”

You stare up at your husband in wonder and anticipation as he unbuttons his own shirt, casts it aside, and then reaches for the fastenings on his trousers with shaking fingers.

The fear is on full display in his beautiful dark amber eyes as he lets the fabric fall, revealing himself to you once more.

Your breath catches as the sight before you. Moving slowly, so as not to scare him, you reach up, tracing the soft, barely-there swell of his belly, following the very human trail of dark hair down, down, until your fingers brush against the very not-human scales at the base of his manhood.

Marcus stiffens and sucks in a breath at the first touch of your fingers. His eyes close and his eyebrows knit together as though he were in pain.

“It's okay,” you whisper, trying to soothe him. “Love, it's okay.”

You grow bolder, curving your hand around his girth–although he's far too thick to grip entirely–and slowly run your palm up the iridescent scales, from the base of him to the very tip. When you reach it, Marcus’s head tips back and he moans softly.

The scales are soft and vulnerable, like the ones on his belly in dragon form. You’re thankful for that; you were a little nervous that they’d be rigid and sharp, but they're smooth and yielding, and the ones right on his tip are almost velvety in texture. You smile and bring up your other hand to stroke him as well. With both of your hands involved, you're finally able to wrap around his entire girth. The sound that escapes Marcus as a result is a deep, broken thing, almost as if the action pains him.

“Oh love,” he whispers, his voice rough and breaking. “Oh, love…”

“Is this all right?” you ask nervously.

“Yes. Yes,” he groans. “I'm sorry, I just–I didn't ever think that this–that anyone would want to–”

“I know,” you whisper, reassuring him. “It's okay.”

You continue your gentle exploration of your husband, touching the ridges and bumps curiously, trying to imagine how it will feel inside of you. You don't stop until Marcus is panting, his eyes closed in ecstasy or frustration, you can't tell which. Finally, when you press one fingertip against the little slit at the tip, he breaks.

“Please, dearest,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Oh, love, have some pity.”

You giggle softly, smiling up at the man you love. You meet his deep, emotion-filled eyes, and the mood between you sobers.

“Marcus,” you say quietly, “make love to me.”

He nods solemnly, lovingly. Reaching over to his bedside table, he procures a little vial and holds it up to show you.

“I took the liberty of getting this from the apothecary,” Marcus says. “It's a kind of oil, but safe for–for inside.” He reaches down and traces your cheekbone with his thumb. “It should help it to not hurt,” he explains. Softer, he adds, “I don't want it to hurt.”

“You could never hurt me,” you say with absolute certainty.

Marcus stares at you, his expression full of awe. He surges down to kiss you desperately, over and over, your bare skin sliding deliciously against each other. He crawls down your body and laps at you hungrily. He adds one finger, then another, and another, until his whole hand is buried inside you and you're rising off the bed as you come undone.

Your chest is still heaving softly with exertion as Marcus is moving up, up, up your body, kissing a path all the way until he reaches your lips, and you shiver in delight at the realization that you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You watch in awe and trepidation as Marcus shakes some of the contents of the vial into his palm and rubs it over his manhood until it's shiny and wet with slick. He applies a little more to you, indulgently rubbing the slippery fluid over your folds and slightly inside.

“Promise again,” he demands roughly, even as he hovers over you, his thick length lining up with your core. “Promise you'll tell me if I'm hurting you.”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him sweetly. “Yes,” you promise. “Yes, Marcus.”

His tip notches at your entrance, and your eyes meet as he finally, finally begins to slide home.

He's prepared you so diligently and thoroughly, but you both know that he's still just a little bit larger than four of his fingers. The slight increase in size overwhelms your senses, and you gasp and whine at the intrusion. Two instincts battle inside you: the desire to squirm away and the need to be filled even more–but you find that you can do nothing except whimper softly for your husband.

“Breathe,” Marcus reminds you, his eyes sweeping over you, cataloging every reaction to make sure he isn't giving you too much.

You nod and force yourself to do as he asks, and although your breaths are shaky and labored, the slow inhales and exhales allow you to relax enough for him to keep going, pushing forward bit by bit, stretching you open, filling you utterly and completely.

Once he gets a little ways in, it becomes ever so slightly easier to take, and you tip your head back and moan in ecstasy as the pressure inside of you builds to a crescendo.

“So pretty like this,” Marcus murmurs. “So perfect, so lovely. You shouldn't be giving me this, and yet you are, oh Gods–” he groans as you squeeze him tightly.

Suddenly, it feels as though there's no more of you that you can give him. With a soft cry of discomfort, you touch his shoulder. “That's–I can't. Not anymore…”

Marcus nods. You can still see the shimmering green of his base; you think he's only around halfway buried inside you, and at the realization, you look at him in panic.

“It’s all right,” he says quickly. “I won't go any further.” His breath shakes as he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and he begins to slowly rock his hips back and forth, slowly dragging his impossibly-large manhood back and forth against your walls.

The sound you make, you think, is unhuman. You don’t even know if it’s a wail of pleasure, or of pain as Marcus takes you. All you know is that the sensation is so immense, so profound, that you’ll be forever altered after this. You cling to your husband, your fingers scrambling to find purchase at his neck and shoulders as you search for anything to anchor you.

Marcus seems to be deeply affected as well; he drops down, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he whimpers deeply with every gentle thrust. Putting his weight on one elbow, his other hand snakes down between your bodies and rubs small circles around your little bundle of nerves.

It takes longer than usual for the tension to build inside of you than it does with Marcus’s tongue and fingers. The pressure inside of you is simply too consuming, too distracting, but your husband is a patient man, and he methodically takes you higher and higher–and when you finally fall, the waves of pleasure are far more intense as a reward. Your muscles relax, and your core seems to open for him even further, and he takes advantage–seeming to know instinctively that you can take just a few inches more.

“I—I’m not going to last,” Marcus gasps. “It’s too good–been too long, I–mmph–”

“That’s probably–ah!–preferable,” you manage to answer.

Both of you giggle breathlessly. Marcus raises his head to gaze into your eyes, and he’s still smiling when his hips begin to stutter and lose their rhythm. He cries out into the room as he suddenly stills, and you let out a moan of your own when you feel unnatural warmth blooming inside of you as his spend buries itself deep.

You slump boneless with a violent shudder when Marcus carefully and slowly withdraws, leaving you feeling empty and vulnerable. You aren’t sure if it’s the sudden void he seems to have left behind that aches, or if you’re just now reacting to the fullness from before, but the sensation overwhelms you, and tears spring to your eyes.

He notices immediately and springs to action, pulling you against him so fervently that his grip distracts you from your aching core.

“I have you,” Marcus repeats over and over, peppering kisses on every inch of skin that he can reach. “I have you, dearest, I’m right here.”

You hold him back, just as tightly. “I love you,” you whisper. “I love you.”

Late morning sun streams in through the windows when you next open your eyes. The fire has died sometime in the night, leaving only glowing, golden-red embers, and the room is both too bright and too warm. It’s perfect. You sigh as you stretch your arms overhead indulgently, causing your husband to stir from sleep as well.

“Good morning.” Your voice is thick with sleep, and so is his reply.

“Good morning.”

You hum in appreciation as he leans forward to give you a gentle kiss before sitting up in bed. The covers fall to his hips, exposing the iridescent tip of his manhood, and he sighs.

“I was rather hoping to wake up this morning and discover this had all been fixed while I slept,” he grumbles.

“Supposing you were fixed, only the things you’ve always claimed to be broken are, in fact, misguided.”

You gently draw the covers back further and admire how he glints in the sunlight. His shaft isn’t as rigid now, but the length and girth of him is still considerable.

“Could I kiss you there,” you muse thoughtfully, “as you have kissed me on many occasions now?”

“K-Kiss–” Marcus sputters, seemingly unable to speak further.

“You put your mouth on me, and I fall apart,” you say with a sly smile. “Would it be the same for you?”

Your husband falls back on the pillows, pressing his hands into his eyes as he groans. “She’s going to kill me,” he deadpans, speaking to the ceiling rather than to you. “I brought her here, married her, and now she’s going to kill me.”

You giggle at his antics. “Then am I to assume that it would feel just as good?” you tease playfully. You lower your head and give in to the temptation to see what those soft, velvety scales would feel like against your lips.

“Mmph!” Marcus shudders violently at the touch of your mouth, but it only serves to encourage you. You give him kiss after gentle kiss, letting your lips drag indulgently against the smooth, shimmering scales. You move down, exploring the way they become more rigid as you approach the base, breathing in his scent deeply with every inhale. Emboldened, your tongue darts out to lick a long line back up again, all the way back to the tip, and your husband nearly arches off the bed with a broken moan of your name.

You want to catalogue every inch of his length, every noise he makes as you move your mouth along the ridges and veins of his shaft, up and down, up and down, until he’s throbbing and achingly hard.

“How can I…” you pause, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words for what you want to ask. “Last night, when you let go at the end–how do I—?” you trail off, looking up at Marcus hopefully.

He stares back as though he can’t believe what you’re asking him. “Oh. Oh. Oh dearest, you don’t need to–it would take… You’d have to put your–your whole mouth on me, and it wouldn’t fit, it wouldn’t work, it–”

You silence his rambling by doing just that. You have to open your mouth so wide that the edges of your lips pull uncomfortably, and you can only fit the soft head of his shaft within you, but the animalistic sound that escapes him as you swallow even the littlest bit of his manhood is well worth the effort.

You work at relaxing your jaw and throat as you take him just the tiniest bit deeper, and then, thinking of how he moved within you the night before, begin gently working him up and down with your mouth. You can feel your eyes watering, your nose running, and everything mixes together with your saliva to run down the rest of his shaft that you can’t even come close to reaching.

Marcus’s own hand wraps around himself, and he begins to move up and down, matching the rhythm of your mouth. He pants and gasps loudly as you gain confidence and speed, until finally–

“Love, stop!” he cries, and you lift your head in surprise just in time for him to spill his seed over his own bare chest instead. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him throbbing rhythmically, emptying himself until there’s nothing left.

“S-Sorry,” he chuckles bashfully. “I didn’t want to–Well, it’s a lot, and I didn’t want to hurt you or cause you to choke.”

Slowly, you begin to laugh as well, until the two of you are grinning like the two enamored idiots that you are.

“What should,” he doubles over with giggles, “should we do for the rest of the day, dearest wife?”

You almost can’t answer through your own laughter, but eventually you manage, saying, “I think breakfast is in order… but after that, I think we can come up with a few more ideas.”

Epilogue

Deep in the Obrage Mountains in the far northern reaches of the kingdom of Azethia, sits a small highland village.

Situated in the shadow of the range’s highest peak, Wyverncroft Mountain, the citizens of the village are quite accustomed to seeing large, winged silhouettes against the clouds on a clear day, but dragons are solitary creatures, and rarely come close to the town itself.

Imagine their surprise, then, when one morning after a great storm had come and gone, blanketing the village in deep snow, one of the beasts touches down on the outskirts, its landing muted by the blizzard.

What shocks them even further, however, is the young woman who disembarks from a large leather saddle on the creature’s back and approaches the townsfolk, who have all come to gawk at the sight.

“Excuse me,” she calls out brightly. “Would anyone be able to trade for some bread and cheese, possibly some wine? Our provisions were lost during last night’s storm, and we need some sustenance before we begin our journey back home.”

No one answers.

“We have plenty of coin,” she continues hopefully. “Just no bread.”

Finally, the baker steps forward. “I have bread,” he begins suspiciously. “But pray tell me: what is a young maiden doing on the back of a colossal beast in the wilding peaks? There are no other settlements for many leagues…”

“Oh, we’re on our honeymoon,” the maiden laughs. “I come from very far away, where there are no mountains to speak of, and I wanted to see their splendor for myself.”

“Your… honeymoon,” the baker repeats. He looks left and right, but there is no husband to speak of.

The townspeople stare at the newcomers. The girl–and the beast–stare back. The only sound that can be heard is the rustle of branches as a flying squirrel hops deftly from one tree to another, and–

SNAP!

Everyone jumps as the dragon suddenly darts its head upward to capture the little animal in its strong jaws. It bites down only once, and then swallows its catch whole.

Several of the villagers gasp in fear, and the maiden gasps too–before punching the great creature squarely on its foreleg, just below the shoulder.

“Rude!” she hisses. “Can you not wait five minutes? You can have yourself an entire herd of deer for all I care, but not before I get my breakfast.” She turns back to the baker with a wide smile. “I’m deeply sorry,” she says sweetly. “We’ve been holed up on the peak for two days waiting for the storm to pass, and we’re both famished and a little short on manners.” She shoots one last glance at the beast behind her, and it whuffs in annoyance, flapping its wings impatiently.

The villagers hastily give her bread, cheese, and wine as requested, plus a little pouch of dried berries from their summer stores, as the girl had given them far more gold than the meager offering of food was worth.

She thanks them generously, and the dragon seems to bow its head deeply with gratitude itself. Then, she climbs back into the saddle and the two strangers rise back into the sky, heading south. The villagers watch them until they’re out of sight.

Epilogue 2

When Prince Marcus, as you predicted, does not make any additional transformations into a fearsome dragon, you make it your life’s work to travel the kingdom of Azethia–made faster by flying through the sky with your husband–to spread your message of love and acceptance, rather than fear and shunning, of the kingdom’s afflicted.

When it becomes clear that the prince will remain of sound mind and human body, you are eventually crowned king and queen at a crowded and boisterous coronation that brings revelers from far and wide, even from outside of the kingdom. Of the foreigners that come, your family, of course, are your most beloved and esteemed guests. And, to your overjoyed gratitude, they elect to stay in the castle with you–and none too soon, because, if your suspicions are correct, you will need all hands on deck for the part of your life that comes next.

The twins, Sophia and Elias, come into their powers at around three years of age, and it takes the combined effort of you and Marcus, your family, and all the castle’s servants to contain the little toddlers that can shape-shift and sprout wings whenever they so choose.

Rather than being raised in fear of their abilities, Sophia and Elias are celebrated and encouraged (for the most part, except for when they accidentally set fire to various rooms in the castle). You can see, in every year that passes, how Marcus begins to heal–growing into a confident and benevolent king with a razor-sharp wit and boyish smile reserved for those who know him best.

The twins grow and mature until they are sent away to a university in neighboring Oloslokar, and Marcus’s hair is silver at the temples and his beautiful, amber-brown eyes are surrounded with laugh-lines. (“Both are entirely the fault of my wife and children,” he likes to say with the deepest of affection.)

You grow older, too; your body softens and changes shape after bearing the twins (and enjoying the exquisite meals from the palace chef), becoming–as Sophia used to say when she was smaller–‘Well-suited for warm hugs.’ And those you give generously–to those who come to ask favors of the now-beloved royal family, and to your family, and your children, but most often to your husband (no matter what form he happens to be in).

When the castle becomes too quiet again, the two of you take to the skies, travelling to every corner of the world that you can manage to reach.

Your favorite place, however, remains to be a small, unassuming green meadow next to a cliff, where a little waterfall cascades into a lagoon that’s never quite warm enough for a swim.

And yet, somehow, the two of you still manage.

fin

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #pedro pascal #the mentalist

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fayflutter · 3 months ago

Text

The Spoiled Cat and the Police Dog AU: Luka and Kagami

Luka-Hidden Snake

-Instead of his father being Jagged Stone world famous rock star, he is instead James Stone is a world famous classical musician performing in concert and recital halls all over the world.

-Luka and his sister were raised by their father rather than their mother and Luka was raised to be James’ musical heir.

-A musical prodigy, the expectations of being THE James Stone’s son weighs heavy on him. Because of his strict training, he is adept in many musical instruments. He’s a perfectionist, not willing to accept anything than perfect and puts high expectations on himself to be the best. -In this AU, it’s very much public knowledge that Luka and Juleka are James’ children rather than it being a secret in canon.

-Because of this, he doesn’t trust easily and is cold to people. He thinks everyone wants something from him because of his name and status as a celebrity. He is also a bit of a snob, looking down on those who he deems ‘uncultured’ or ‘undignified’ (which is most people)

-He also can be cruel and apathetic, rolling his eyes at other people’s misery and pain (‘Why should I care? It’s not my problem.’)

-He doesn’t have his canon musical empathy ability, making it harder for him to understand people’s true natures.

-Adrien and him were once musical rivals, always trying to outshine the other during recitals. But then someone else tried to butt in on their rivalry, daring to take first place from either of them. So they decided to join forces to get rid of the competition. Since then, Luka has become Adrien’s right hand and confidant (they don’t call each other friends, neither of them would admit to being friends)

-Instead of the guitar, Luka plays the violin.

-The only one who can get him to crack a smile is his sister Juleka.

Kagami-Roaring Dragon

-Her mother, Tomoe Tsurugi is the proud owner of a small martial arts gym in Paris. Tomoe does not hold her daughter to impossible standards and desires for her to experience the world in ways she cannot.

-Due to this, Kagami is a much more energetic and relaxed person. She also knows hand to hand combat as oppose to fencing (passion over perfection).

-Her outfit is inspired by the anime Ranma 1/2.

-While she is an experienced martial artist, Kagami’s first love is art. She adores drawing and often sketches in her notebook, she hopes to become an artist one day.

-Kagami has artistic empathy, being able to see the colors of a person’s heart similar to the musical empathy Luka has in canon.

-She and Adrien do not get along at all. As children, Gabriel signed his son up for self defense classes at Tomoe’s gym. Adrien insulted Kagami while she was helping her mother teach. Then he got his butt kicked so bad by her he refuses to talk about it to this day. Adrien is still terrified by her, he leaves the room in hurry every time he even hears her voice.

-Kagami does not want to date or even be friends with Adrien.

-On the other hand, she is very, very much interested in Chloe.

#miraculous ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug au #ladybug au #miraculous au #the spoiled cat and the police dog au #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #my art

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 5 months ago

Note

can you write about Visenya The Conqueror x fem reader please? 🥺🌹

Never written for Visenya before but here's a little something since this ask did spark inspiration :)

Surly Creatures

Pairing(s): Visenya Targaryen x Reader, implied!Visenya Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen, implied!Aegon Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen

Warnings: short and sweet

Visenya, to the outside, was a cold brute of a woman. Stony faced when regarding those she deemed lower status than herself. Nonetheless, her beauty was more reserved and not free, like the easy charm of her sister Rhaenys. Even to Aegon, his older sister was someone to tread around carefully.

Anyone could take one look at Vhagar and acknowledge the resemblance the she-dragon had to her rider.

A woman who was difficult to love.

You, however, wormed your way through her tough exterior. An inconsequential nobody with no lengthy ancestry or noble birth. A chambermaid who knew the intricacies of Visenya's personal life.

Other maids loathed tending to their icy queen, preferring to cater to the needs of King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys for their easygoing personalities. You had practice in taming surly creatures.

"You dare compare me to this. . . thing?" Visenya's eyes scrutinize the overgrown feline in your arms. Her arms are haughtily folded in front of her chest. She'd caught you wandering around the main castle of Aegonsfort. Wondering what you were up to, she followed you to a dark corridor where you were on your knees, a piece of raw meat between your fingers as you coaxed something from a dark corner of the hall.

Hisses proceed before settling down into gentle purrs. That's when you turned around to reveal the unkempt beast in your arms and shock in your eyes when you come upon Queen Visenya.

"Certainly not the looks," You say to ease her tempers, jostling the cat in your hold as it starts to become fussy. "But temperament, yes. It's taken me months to earn her trust. As it has taken me years to earn yours, your grace. That's how you know the trust is true if you work for it."

And Visenya damns the tenderness she feels for you. She should have scorned you for touching a filthy animal and dirtying the pretty dress that she had commissioned just for you, her pretty doll.

Slowly, the eldest Targaryen queen steps toward you, holding her hand to touch the top of the cat's head, only to earn a toothy hiss. She recoils with a glare. "Filthy thing."

You just giggle and release the poor cat before Visenya can request an execution for it. The cat high-tails it out of there. "See what I mean?" Wiping your hands on your apron, you smile up at Visenya. "Gentle caresses have to be earned."

Visenya fixes a stray strand of hair that is tossed around your face. Carefully tucking it behind your ear with the gentlest of hands. What made you different from the others? Was it your patience with her attitude? A well that never seemed to run out. Even Vhagar appeared to tolerate your presence when you tried to clamber on her. Visenya thought it utterly adorable (she would never say such a thing out loud) to see you atop her deadly dragon. Small and un-Targaryen, yet you looked like you were meant to be there.

Aegon teased his sister that Vhagar shared the same sentiment toward the maid as her rider did. One time, Vhagar nudged you a little too hard with her large snout, causing you to fall face forward into the dirt. Instead of being upset, you merely laugh as Vhagar continues to roll you around on the ground with a feather-light touch of her nose.

The action wasn't malicious. It actually looked like Vhagar was having fun playing with you in such a manner.

Maybe. . . what really captivated Visenya was the way you looked up at her with stars in your eyes and a flush to your cheeks. Just for her. No one else managed to wrangle such an expression from you.

It made Visenya feel superior to all others. For she possessed your full attention and adoration.

"Let's get you washed up. The beast is probably covered in fleas." Visenya huffs, hiding the smile that threatened to throw her face into warmth.

"Will I be worthy of your touch then, your grace?" You ask with hope in your voice.

It's still a shock to your system when Visenya pulls you in close to her, both of her hands cradling your face before she leans in to press her plush lips against your's.

"You will always be worthy of my touch, pet." She whispers against your mouth.

You were struck dumb there and struggled to catch up to her once she turned back around to lead you to her personal chambers.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf fic #a song of ice and fire x you #a song of ice and fire x reader #a song of ice and fire fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #visenya x reader #visenya targaryen #visenya the conqueror #queen visenya

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chil-aglia · 26 days ago

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I just an idea for fic. It's inspired from both episodes in mix, one from American Dragon Jake Long season 2 (you know the one where Jake shot Rose with Cupid Arrows to fall in love with, thinking she's not, only make her hate him instead (since she was already in love with which is why the arrow make the opposite) and trying to kill him) and the other from Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir season 1 Episode call Dark Cupid.

Here is the synopsis:

So the turtles are trying to stop some crazy imp yokai who's shooting arrows of love to cause chaos, and probably use distraction to steal (not sure about the start up but anyway), the boys capture that criminal but not before he pull arrow at Adriaen. Good thing Leo saves him as he shields him and take the hit. Bad thing he was hit by one of those love arrow. However what the imp didn't expect that it actually would have an opposite effect. Why? Because Leo is already in love with Adriaen, so when he opens eyes and sees Adri, the magic effect of arrow twists his love into a hatred and force him attack Adriaen, says hurtful stuff how he despises him, confess all the frustration of Adri's obliviousness to his hints, showing affection only to be ignored and dismissed, literally friendzoned, but telling him he's friend no more and is ready to kill him. And fighting Leo who can use portals and is filled with anger/hatred (even though not real) is a very dangerous combo.

So how we neutralize the arrow effect? Mikey suggest Adri to use solution that works always in fairytale. Give Leo a true love's kiss

Adri: Wait what?!😳

(Leo after back to normal might be afraid to be near Adri after what he said and done (guilt is eating him for sure), but I can tell Adriaen won't hold grudge and comforts him. After all his hatred was opposite spell effect of his true feelings towards Adriaen)

This is not a love potion as it has the opposite effect. This fits into 'Hatred at the first sight's from your BTHB Writing Prompt card.

What do you think?

This will be marked off as 'Hate at the first sight' as that is the main focus!

Hope you enjoy this! And sorry for any grammar errors made!

——————————————————————————————————

Not Who You Are

Quick note: This is not canon to the main story of Collide.

Bingo slot: Hate at the first sight

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles + my OC’s

Warnings; None really

Summary: The boys try to stop a mischievous imp yokai causing chaos with magical love arrows. They manage to capture him, but not before he shoots an arrow at Adriaen. Leo jumps in to protect him and gets hit instead. However, since Leo is already in love with Adriaen, the arrow backfires—twisting his love into hatred. Consumed by the magic, Leo lashes out at Adriaen, expressing pent-up frustration and heartbreak before attacking him. To break the spell, Mikey suggests a classic fairytale solution: a true love’s kiss

——————————————————————————————————

“Watch out boys!”

“Ah! These arrows just keep flying at us!”

“On your left Raph!”

The group dived and ducked and dodged as the imp dressed like a strange Cupid creature that one would see on Valentine’s Day cards.

They received word that there was chaos happening in the hidden city and then of course Raph had the urge to be a hero and claim that he, his brothers and Adriaen could handle the situation.

Finding the imp was easy, following the crowd of love struck yokai and the screams of those who thought they were being hunted for sport.

The Hidden City marketplace was pure chaos—tables overturned, enchanted flower petals raining from the sky, and yokai sprinting in every direction. Some were screaming, others were giggling uncontrollably while proposing marriage to inanimate objects or even each other.

“Raph, remind me again why we’re handling this?” Adriaen growled, flipping mid-air to slice through a swarm of enchanted confetti bees with his kama’s.

“Because…” Raph huffed, bulldozing a lovestruck ogre gently out of the way, “Someone needed to step up, and we can’t just sit around when people are being turned into walking Valentine’s Day disasters!”

Leo ducked behind a street vendor’s stall, his arm thrown up to shield his face. “This is not what I signed up for when I said I wanted to help with patrols. Who even makes arrows that cause romantic delusions?!”

“Some kind of chaotic imp magic!” Donnie grunted, getting yanked out of the way just in time as another arrow thudded into the ground beside him. The pavement immediately cracked open, and a dozen heart-shaped balloons launched into the air, cooing in chorus, “Love conquers alllll!”

From above, a high-pitched cackle echoed through the air.

“There he is!” Leo pointed skyward. The imp hovered effortlessly on a pair of oversized, frilly wings, his diaper sagging slightly from the weight of his arrow quiver. He had big red cheeks, a golden bow, and a deranged smile that only grew wider with every shot he fired.

“You mortals don’t appreciate the beauty of passion!” The imp howled gleefully. “So I will make you feel it!”

Donnie huffs, pulling his goggles over his face as he scans his surroundings.

“Calculating trajectory—if we bounce Raph’s sai off the bakery sign, through the alley mirror, and into the imp’s quiver—”

“Just hit him already!” Adriaen roared, as he looked around and gasped when love struck yokai began making his way to him like zombies.

He clicked his tongue, stepping back. He wasn’t able to hurt these innocent people; he wasn’t that mean.

However, due to his distracted state, the imp took it as a sign to grab his bow and shoot right at Adriaen. Leo witnessed the attack as he sprang into action.

“Adriaen!”

The slider crashed into Adriaen, just in time as he took the hit of the arrow, letting out a pained winced as he and Adriaen slid against the floor.

“Ow…Leo? Leo!” Adriaen shook his head once he recovered from the save, shaking Leo’s shoulder gently, the mutant sprawled on top of him as he slowly began moving off.

“Leo! Hey, you okay?” Adriaen inquires, checking over the blue masked mutant. He reached for Leo’s face to get a better look, but to his utter shock, Leo slapped his hand as he looked up at him and glared.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Adriaen’s heart stopped for a moment—not from the impact, but from the look on Leo’s face.

That wasn’t confusion. That wasn’t pain. That wasn’t his Leo. The glare Leo shot him was cold, sharp, and full of disgust. It was like being stabbed with ice.

Adriaen blinked, stunned. “W-What? Leo, I—”

“You think I want you near me right now?” Leo snapped as he stood, brushing himself off like Adriaen had somehow contaminated him. “Ugh. Great. I saved you. That’s just perfect.”

Adriaen slowly got to his feet, confusion clouding his eyes. “Leo, what are you talking about? You jumped in front of the arrow—”

“Yeah, and I’m regretting it already.”

Leo turned away, a deep growl forming at the back of his throat. “I should’ve let you get hit. Maybe it would’ve finally shut you up for five seconds.”

Donnie skidded to a halt nearby, eyes wide as he took in the tension. “Uh… Leo? You okay, dude?”

Leo didn’t look back. “Peachy.”

Adriaen stepped forward cautiously, hand halfway raised like approaching a wounded animal. “Leo, this… this isn’t you. Something’s wrong.”

Leo sneers at Adriaen like he is nothing more than some pest. “You're so annoying. Always getting in the way. Honestly, you’re just a liability.”

The words hit like a slap.

Adriaen staggered a half step back, staring at him like he didn’t recognize the person in front of him. His throat tightened. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Leo turned finally, his eyes glowing faintly, not with affection or warmth, but something sharp, twisted, and poisoned. “The only reason I tolerated you, brought you to live with us, was because I felt sorry for you. But even that’s run dry.”

Mikey arrived behind Donnie, having caught the end of the exchange, and frowned in concern.

“What’s going on? Why’s Leo—”

“Cupid’s arrow.” Donnie murmured, pulling up his tablet from his battle shell. “I scanned the one that hit him. Since Leo’s already in love with Adriaen, the magic must have backfired, reversing the emotional polarity. Instead of intensifying love… it turned it into hate.”

Adriaen flinched at the word.

Hate.

“That’s why he’s like this?” Mikey whispered, glancing nervously between the two.

Leo turned his head slowly toward them. “Why am I like this? No. This just peeled off the sugar coating. I’ve been putting up with Adriaen long enough. Honestly, I don’t even know what I saw in him in the first place. He's nothing special.”

The words were so sharp, so sudden, they could’ve drawn blood.

Adriaen stood there, his kama’s limp in his hands, trying to steady his breathing as his chest rose and fell like he’d just been punched. “Leo… please.” He said quietly. “Just listen to yourself. You don’t mean any of this. This isn’t you.”

Leo snarled, turning away completely. “Then maybe you should stop trying to fix me and leave me the hell alone.”

He stormed off toward the imp.

Donnie sighed, his voice low. “We need to subdue the imp fast. If we don’t break the magic soon…”

Mikey looked between the two, his eyes full of concern as he whispered, “Adriaen’s heart might not survive this.”

Adriaen said nothing.

He just stood there in the middle of the chaos, watching Leo walk away like a stranger, the warmth that once tethered them now replaced with a biting cold that chilled him to the core.

He had no clue that Leo even liked him in that way, that was another shock for him to realise then. He shook his head, he had to focus on something else, he knew that wasn’t Leo speaking.

So, he figured he should try something to get Leo back to his usual self.

“Leo, listen to me. You got hit with an arrow, if you just let me help you, we can—“

He was cut off when Leo suddenly lunged at him, katana’s slicing towards him as Adriaen quickly jumped out the way, baffled before once more moving out the way as Leo clicked his tongue.

“Leo, what the hell?! You just tried to cut me!”

Leo snarled, his markings glowing faintly with the warped magic still twisting his emotions. “You talk too much. Always trying to fix things that aren’t broken. Maybe you’d be more useful if you just stayed down.”

He lunged again, this time faster.

Adriaen barely blocked the strike with the shaft of his kama, the force rattling his arms as he stumbled back. “Leo, dammit—this isn’t you!” He shouted, deflecting another flurry of blows, each one angrier, sharper, more reckless than the last.

“I am me!” Leo barked, slicing with precision that betrayed how much he still knew Adriaen’s every move. “You just never paid attention.”

Behind them, Donnie was working furiously on his wrist tech, fingers a blur. “Okay, okay, just need to override the arrow’s enchantment frequency and generate a pulse that neutralizes—ah! There’s too much ambient magic interference!”

Raph ran forward, “Donnie! I can distract the imp while you do your thing!”

Mikey grunted from a few feet away as he tossed a love-struck gremlin off his back. “And I’ll keep the love-zombies off your six!”

“Thanks.” Donnie said without looking up. “But we really need to hurry before Leo skewers Adriaen like a kebab!”

“Not helping!” Adriaen hissed, ducking another blow. “Leo, please! You saved me! That wasn’t instinct, that was you! You wouldn’t have risked your life if you didn’t care!”

Leo froze for a brief moment.

Something flickered in his expression, something almost familiar. His grip on his katana faltered…

And then his scowl deepened.

“Maybe I saved you just so I could do this myself.”

He kicked Adriaen in the chest, sending him flying back into a merchant stall. Wood cracked and shattered as he hit the ground hard, coughing.

“Stop talking like you know me. You don’t. You never did.”

Adriaen groaned, pushing up onto his hands, blood trailing from a split in his lip.

“Guys! Need help here!” He calls out, grunting as Leo pounced on him, too much in a rage of a fury, he had tossed away his swords and tried to choke out Adriaen who used his own hands to hold Leo back.

Mikey looks over, panicking before perking up at an idea. “Kiss him! That might reverse the spell!” He exclaimed as Adriaen widened his eyes, shocked.

“What?!”

“Try it!”

Adriaen huffs, looking up at Leo who didn’t hear what was said. Adriaen gulped under him, blushing in anxiousness at what he was going to do.

“Sorry, Leo.”

In a state of confusion from the slider who heard the apology, he was taken aback when Adriaen forced him to sit up, grabbing Leo’s face and colliding their lips together, his eyes closed tightly and body stiff as Leo tenses at the sudden kiss.

Slowly he felt the pressured magic hate leaving him, draining him completely as he relaxed in Adriaen’s hold.

Then after a few moments of kissing each other, Leo let out a quiet gasp. He blinked, then blinked again, stunned and motionless, still held in Adriaen’s grasp.

Adriaen pulled back slightly, breath shaky. “...Leo?”

Leo stared at him.

His mouth opened, closed, then finally, after what felt like a century, he rasped out, “…What the hell just happened?”

Donnie’s voice cut through the sudden quiet. “It worked!” He shouted, fist in the air. “Spell neutralized!”

Mikey bounced over like an excited puppy. “I knew a kiss would work! Never doubt the power of true love!”

Leo’s face went red.

As did Adriaen’s.

Raph had come over, holding the imp in his hand as the imp looked battered and bruised. “This guy is going to the police.” He smirks, noticing the hidden city police nearby who must’ve heard the distress from afar.

He walked over, explaining to them with Mikey and Donnie by his side. Leo and Adriaen had also stood on their feet, the two awkward and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” Leo had eventually apologised within the quiet moment, Adriaen gazing at him in curiosity. “I…those things I said. I didn’t…I never meant to..” He was in a stage of speechlessness, unsure how to apologise to him without feeling more immense guilt over it.

Adriaen softly smiled, “It’s okay. I know you’d never say those things to me. That’s not who you are.” He assured, placing a hand over the slides shoulder as Leo stared at him in surprise and embarrassment.

“…Adriaen?”

“Yes?”

“I…I lov—“

Leo was cut off when Mikey bounced over, jumping on his brother's shell, “Let’s go lovebirds. Mission accomplished!” He teases, dragging Leo away who tried to get Mikey off him.

Adriaen huffs a small smile at the brothers, jogging over and catching up as they head on back to be lair for a well-deserved rest.

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yukidragon · 1 year ago

Text

Sunny Day Jack - Cat AU

Okay, so, two particular pieces of beautifully drawn fan art have collided together in my head to create a light and fluffy self-indulgent image that I just had to share with you all.

@okamiliqueur's heartbreaking picture of Jack's lonely and forgotten box from the new demo made me think of cats abandoned in boxes, "free to a good home." Only in the case of the game's story, he was left out in the rain to rot, the owner having given up giving him a good home.

@jazzylovetodraw's picture of Jack as a cat has been buzzing in my mind for quite a while. I just love how precious he looks in both forms, and when I was thinking of Jack being like those abandoned kittens in cardboard boxes... well, the combination was obvious.

I know that Jack's fursona is a snake, and I know being a cat is Shaun's thing, but I'm a sucker for kitties. I'm as biased towards cats as I am for dragons, if my avatar and username didn't offer enough of a hint. ;3 I'd love to see all the characters as kitties honestly.

Tempting though it may be to go with Fruits Basket rules for kitty Jack, like I toyed with over on twitter, I think I'm going to play with a different and simpler set of rules. In this universe, Jack is stuck as a cat until his sunshine's love allows him to become human again.

Admittedly, it's kind of hard to imagine Jack being alone for very long when he looks so adorable. Who wouldn't fall in love with that precious kitty face instantly? Most everyone would be putty in his paws.

Content Warning: I wind up touching on a couple explicit headcanon details near the end. I mean, I did say this is a pretty self-indulgent image with my OTP.

Maybe Jack was stuck as a cat via a curse ala Hocus Pocus and is guarding the box/tape/etc. Maybe he was stuck as a cat instead of in the tape and no one could see him until MC came along. Maybe he's got a tragic backstory like the cat from Fruits Basket.

Since this AU is more about the vibes, I'm just going to leave the how and why parts of the lore up in the air. All that matters is that Jack is stuck as a cat and left out in the rain in a cardboard box until MC decides to take him home.

I'm just going to switch over to Alice and what she would do in this scenario. Poor lonely Alice is out on the town, when she comes across the box out in the rain and sees an equally lonely kitten. Poor little thing, all wet and sad... She just has to take him home with her.

Alice cleans Jack up, gets him wrapped up all nice and warm in a blanket, and even gives him some chicken she bought for her own dinner that night. She'll have to get cat food and other things for her new furry companion tomorrow, though she should probably look for his owner and take him to a vet.

At first, Jack isn't sure what to do about the situation, though he is grateful. No one has even acknowledged his existence until Alice came along. She's so soft and warm. He loves it when she holds him. She's so kind too.

Alice does find it surprising Jack doesn't put up a fuss when being given a bath. Jack didn't exactly like the feeling of being all grimy, and don't get him started on fleas and other gross things cats have to deal with on the streets!

The vet isn't as fun, though Jack is well behaved, though very clingy to Alice throughout the appointment. He can't help but fear that she'll abandon him too. He'll keep up the helpless and adorably needy kitty act if it means she'll stay with him.

There's no ID chip, no tag, and no missing notice for any cat that looks like Jack. It's clear that the poor guy is a stray.

Alice is hesitant initially. She's wanted to get a pet cat for a long time now, but she has barely been able to take care of herself. How can she handle taking care of an innocent life that needs her when she's struggling so much with her own life?

That hesitation doesn't last long. Jack loves on Alice so much, constantly purring and snuggling up to her. He curls up with her when she sleeps or relaxes. He was hesitant at first, and she assumed that was because he was wary of her, when in reality, he just didn't want to cross any of her boundaries. He didn't want to do anything that might upset her and make her get rid of him. When she started petting and cuddling him, he wholeheartedly returned the affection, absolutely starved for it.

The first thing Alice thought when she saw Jack was that he was lonely, just like her. He's so sweet and can't stand to be apart from her. How can she just get rid of him when he makes her feel loved and needed?

Of course, a cat's life isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Cat food is a step down from people food, and a litterbox is anything but sanitary. Jack just skips that nonsense and goes straight to using the toilet despite the awkwardness, which shocks the heck out of Alice. He also snubs all cat food in favor of human food.

Yes, I could go with Jack being a ghost(?) cat that doesn't need food or to use the toilet, but then he wouldn't have gone through the indignities of a vet visit.

Then again... it would be funny if Alice brought Jack to the vet, only for them to think she's crazy, since to them all she's carrying is empty air.

Hmm... yeah, I think I'll go that route. As hilarious as vet hijinks and typical cat care with Jack while he possesses a human mind and identity might be, this would be a more interesting and tragic route. No one else can see Jack but Alice. He's lived for who knows how long in a world full of people that don't see him at all, unable to even be human anymore. It'd be a different type of hell than the one in the video tape, similar to what I talked about in my previous ramble.

Imagine if the 1984 incident Jack died and became a ghost(?) cat because he was secretly a cat shape shifter or something. Or maybe something more supernatural happened during the incident. Either way, cat ghost(?) Jack is very, very lonely.

Man, I just realized, it would be even more tragic (and complicated) if I go with the reincarnation route for this AU. Ghost(?) cat Jack probably had to watch Mary die slowly in the hospital after the incident, unable to help her or let her know that it's him. He couldn't even offer her comfort in her final days. It would've been so traumatizing.

For now, let's just play with this AU without the reincarnation angle, since this is supposed to be mostly light and fluffy feline fun with the OTP.

Jack, even as a cat, tries to do his best to help Alice out. If he can make himself useful, make her need him, then he won't ever lose her. He sneaks out when she goes to work to keep her company even though she initially tried to get him to stay home. No one sees him, so it won't matter. Besides, petting an invisible kitty is a good stress relief when dealing with awful customers, and certainly beats regular stimming.

The more Alice cares for Jack, the more powers he gets back, starting with the ability to talk. It's a huge shock for Alice of course, but Jack makes it clear that it's because of her love for him that made her stronger.

Of course, that love is platonic, at least at the start, which Jack knows full well, but he'll work on shifting things to a romantic love... especially after he gets the power to shift back into a form that has hands.

Like in typical canon, Jack answers Alice's questions as best he can. He probably lost his sense of identity like in game canon, so he references CloudyTown and stuff "he" did there, mixing up the show's lore with his own past. It's also intermingled with his many years spent wandering the streets being ignored and going crazy from the loneliness.

Jack does let Alice know that he used to be able to change from a cat to human. He just... can't anymore. He thinks it was because he was forgotten. He doesn't know why no one can see him until Alice came along.

It's so sad and tragic that Alice can't be unmoved by his plight. Sure, it makes things a bit awkward knowing that Jack is sentient and used to have a human form, but she feels for him. It also makes sense now why Jack always turned away whenever she changed.

Yes, Jack could have peeked. He could have even watched Alice while she was bathing, but he didn't. He refuses to do anything she won't allow. Cuddling her and sleeping in her bed is innocent, but the thoughts he'd have about her when she was undressing were anything but. He loves her too much to take advantage of her innocent trust in him. He needs her to want him to see her in that vulnerable state... even if it drives him crazy lusting over her. Poor pitiful kitty can't even have a good wank off session with his paws.

Still, despite knowing that Jack was human and is sentient, it's hard for Alice not to fall for his feline charms and not think too deeply about that fact. She still winds up cuddling him and petting him.

Of course, when it first hits Alice that she's treating a human like a pet, she stops and apologizes, but Jack insists that it's fine. He enjoys their cuddle time. He gives her the big, pleading kitty eyes as he begs her not to stop, and she can't help but give in.

Awkwardness soon fades and settles into a strange new normal. Alice does wonder if Jack really is real or if she was just so lonely she imagined something this crazy... but his presence is comforting. He keeps her company almost all the time. She doesn't feel alone anymore thanks to him.

Also... now that Jack can talk, he says such sweet things. It's weird to have a "pet" take care of her, but he reminds her of when it's time to brush her teeth, wakes her up for work, helps her get chores done despite how awkward it is with his paws and small size... It's so endearing.

The encouragement and assistance Jack gives Alice is wonderful, and his jokes are so fun and silly, but it's the praise that leaves her feeling flustered. If she didn't know any better, she could swear that he's almost flirting with her sometimes. She's in denial that's what it is, but it feels nice to be told that she's cute, and Jack is so sincere about it... and how can she not melt when he says sweet things with such a sweet face?

It's one morning that things change drastically. Alice's bond with Jack strengthened over time to the point that Jack finally can change back into a mostly human form, though he does have cat ears, a fluffy tail, and whisker markings.

It was a big surprise to them both really, as Jack transformed in his sleep. Alice had gotten used to cuddling up to a talking cat during the night, so it was a shock to wake up in a pair of big muscular arms. Jack was so happy when waking her that morning, giddy to show her his (mostly) human side, that it slipped his mind what a shock it would be.

Naturally, Alice bolted back against the wall away from the stranger in her bed. Jack quickly started reassuring her of who he was and that she wasn't in danger. He stooped down to her level, pretty much wilting really, with ears folded back, as he apologized for scaring her. He was just so happy that he wasn't thinking about how it must look from her side...

Seeing Jack so pitiful and sad, Alice feels her heart go out to him. Once things calm down, she can't help but be amazed by how he looks. Unthinkingly, she reaches up to pet his ears and feel how they attach to his skull. She only fully realizes how forward she's being when Jack starts purring.

Flustered, Alice immediately pulls back, only for Jack to whine at the loss of her touch. He didn't mind it at all. He always loves it when she cuddles with him.

It's a complicated feeling for Alice. On the one hand they've been very close for so long. On the other, Jack is definitely a human, so it feels different now.

Yet, Jack is so sweet. He's mindful of her hesitation, even if he's disappointed. It's harder for him to hide his feelings with such expressive ears. Alice can't help but want to reach out to him, especially after they've already spent so much time together, getting to know one another. He's chased away the loneliness that had been haunting her for so, so long.

Of course, now that Jack has a human form, Alice finds her feelings slipping into "dangerous" territory. He makes her feel so good, so loved, and she feels for him too. She doesn't want to dare assume he might feel anything more for her than just a friend, but she can't help but notice the way he looks at her, the way he clearly longs to be near her. He's so tender and gentle... and they've already been so cuddly.

It's easier for Alice to find herself cuddling up to Jack, letting him and taking guilty pleasure from his gentle warmth. He pets her hair too in return, and it feels surprisingly good... a bit too good at times.

The line between friend or something more blurs with all the cuddles and petting. Alice feels guilty about it, but Jack keeps encouraging her until, finally, something has to give and their relationship changes. Both of them feel relieved when it does, as they couldn't help but worry that their feelings might not be reciprocated.

In a lot of ways, it's pretty close to the normal continuity, just with some fuzzy ears on top. Jack can change into a cat at will now. As he gets stronger, people can start to see him, perhaps as a feline silhouette, or maybe with some unsettling shadows not from a cat. He's certainly going to be a bit territorial and not be afraid to hiss and use his claws if absolutely necessary.

Still, this kitty is pretty content thanks to Alice. Jack loves it when Alice carries him around as a teeny kitty, warm and snuggly against her chest, even in the cleavage of her shirt at times. Naturally, he returns the favor, carrying her around the apartment as often as possible. It's only fair after all~!

Naturally, Jack wants to get intimate with Alice as soon as she lets him. He's so pent up. Even with hands to take care of himself, all the cuddling and now kisses just make him ache for her even more. He longs to be inside her, biting her gently and growling in pleasure as he takes her.

A bonus with Jack being part cat is that he gets to have some vibrating action when he purrs. It adds a whole new dimension to their lovemaking, whether he's using his mouth on her sensitive parts, or thrusting himself deep inside.

Oh, I'm reminded of the cat-like features I mentioned in the Omegaverse AU. I guess Jack, having feline features, would have a dick that's ribbed for her pleasure too. Tongue too. Neither would be sharp because rule of sexy, but it would add a very pleasurable texture that a clever man like Jack is going to take full advantage of~

Of course, Alice can take advantage of those feline features too. The base of Jack's tail and ears are quite sensitive, and she quickly learns what spots get his motor running. Of course, getting Jack excited will lead to him pouncing on her and getting rather frisky, but Alice would certainly be expecting that result~

I can imagine Jack could make himself look fully human without any feline features, but he knows Alice finds his cat side to be adorable. She has a hard time resisting petting him when his ears and tail are out, and he certainly wants to encourage her to pet him as much as possible. He also wants to encourage her to let him pet her as much as possible.

Of course, if Jack can become powerful enough that other people can see him, he'll have to stick with only cat or human form when out in public. Still, even when other people can see and hear him, he prefers to be in Alice's company. Cats have their preferred human, and Alice is Jack's.

Naturally, Jack would have to be sneaky about showing Alice love when in public if there's a chance of getting caught. Good thing he has that perfectly innocent little kitty form to hide in. I can imagine it would lead to some interesting interactions where someone shows up only to find Alice incredibly flustered with a slightly disheveled appearance, while her "pet" Jack is just casually looking smug, as all cats do.

Person: Whoa, what happened to you?

Alice, not looking them in the eye: Uh... Jack, m-my cat just... ah, got a bit excited.

Person: Heh. Cats, am I right?

Alice: Haha... right.

Jack: :3c

Hmm... I wonder then if the other love interests should have cat transformations in this AU too. It'd be a crime if Shaun doesn't have that ability but Jack does. Jack already gets together with Alice, so I don't want to be extra cruel to Shaun.

Admittedly, I don't have too many ideas for other characters with cat modes. Well, aside from an image of Shaun taking care of his baby MoonPie by carrying her around by the scruff. This post was mostly just indulging in sweet moments with my OTP with a bit of feline flavor sprinkled on top. Maybe I'll revisit the idea again if I get more ideas than just a bit of fluff.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this silly romp with Alice and Jack having some feline fun times!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Cat AU

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omosunfic · 1 month ago

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Omosun week day 3: Betrayal

“Hey, hey! Look what I have!” Says Kel, excited.

“No! Look, Omori!” Exclaims Aubrey.

Omori looks at what his friends are showing. Kel has gathered a variety of stones, each adorned with sparkling eyes. He wants to show that his pet has had a little family. Aubrey is holding strawberries that her dragon friend had left for her when she said they would play again.

Omori tugs on his creator’s shirt for him to choose. Sunny blinks in confusion. They each displayed charming and huggable objects, leaving him torn about what to pick. He loves the pet rocks but doesn’t want to break his friend’s heart. Sunny picks one strawberry, and she smiles.

“It’s looks cute,” says Sunny.

“Thank you, Omori’s friend!” cheers the girl.

“Hey! What about me!?” Complains Kel, but Omori picks one rock and shows it to Sunny. “Um… Hector made a big baby. He’s Hector Jr.”

That’s so typical of his friend. He vaguely remembers his mascot and says he will have Hector again. Kel really likes that name, huh?

“Cool. I hope I can find a pet rock.”

“You promise!? That rock! We’re the best rock tamers!”

Aubrey looks at the exit of the hideout. “I wonder when Hero is coming. Basil is with Mari...”

“I’m sure he’s taking so long because he likes Mari a lot! Did he forget that we’re starving!? We promised to eat strawberries with Omori’s new friend!” Snorts Kel, annoyed with his big brother.

“I don’t think he’ll be long. He always keeps his word when he talks about his friends. Not like you!” Aubrey pouts her face.

“Hey! It’s not like I forgot to bring your toy… whatchamacallit plushie.”

“KEL! HIS NAME IS MR. EGGPLANT!”

“Ooooooh. It doesn’t look like an egg.” Aubrey smacks Kel’s head.

Sunny lets out a light shrug while watching his friends argue about minor details, nostalgia washing over him as he recalls their playful childhood. They aren’t his age. Omori pulls his shirt back to talk to him.

“Do you like them?” Sunny nods. “They’re ready to face off everything you don’t like.”

True, this world is made for him. After all, he made it. One little whimsical wish and he will have it in front of him. Like, for example...

POOF

In his hands, he has a toy as a cat. His favorite animal. His cheeks go red.

“Anything that you want, Sunny.”

“Aubrey! Kel! We’re here!” Waves Basil while down the stairs.

“Basil! Hello!” Aubrey waves him back.

“Huff… Basil… Please, don’t run…” Pants Hero.

“Hey! Why did you take so long!?” Asks Kel, annoyed.

“… Spiders.”

“Ah. It makes sense.”

“Nevermind that! Strawberries will make you feel better!” Says Aubrey as she picks one fruit for Basil and he’s amazed.

“Wow! They look so clean! Where did you find them?”

Sunny walks to them to join the feast. He looks behind to see Omori. He joins too.

The children pick one while savoring the sweetness of the strawberry.

“Hmmm! So yummy!” Cries Kel with tears of joy.

“True! They’re pretty sweet! Your friend picked a good one.” Says Hero with a smile.

“Yep! My new friend likes to share food!” Hums Aubrey while picking the fruit to eat.

“Ah… I want to meet that friend of yours, Aubrey. These strawberries are yummy!” Says Basil. He looks to Omori, chewing in silence and later to Sunny. Basil gives Sunny one strawberry. “Here, I want you to taste it.”

“Thank you.” Sunny takes a piece of it and his eyes sparkle. Basil giggles.

“One day, we should give some to Mari.”

“Hm! Too bad she’s busy making the picnic!”

Sunny enjoys eating with his friends and thanks Basil for his generous gesture. He loves to share things he likes such as fruits, books, games, plants and photos. If there was one thing Basil always did, it was to show Sunny an idea that would help him in the future. It happened when they were kids doing homework in the afternoon.

A strawberry falls from Aubrey’s hand. “Oh! This one fell!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll pick it.” Basil bends to get the strawberry.

Basil wants to help Sunny for his sake.

“Huh?” The fruit is replaced with a photo. “Why there’s a photo instead of—”

Sunny looks where Basil is looking. Wasn’t it a strawberry?

“H-huh? Why Mari is—” a resounding blow interrupts Basil. His head is split open, and pieces of it fly off, causing Sunny to jump in horror.

Basil’s body falls to the ground, full of strawberries, motionless. A reddish liquid flows into the colorful place.

“Basil…? G-guys… Basil isn’t moving!” Sunny’s voice trembles as he speaks, but they don’t respond to the emotion in his tone. They’re staring at the body with a neutral expression, as if it’s normal.

“Aubrey…?” She doesn’t respond. Sunny looks at what she’s holding. A bat and it’s stained with the same color.

“Did you do it…?” Her silence replies to him.

“Your friends protected you.” Says Omori, to calm his nerves down.

“… Why?”

“Wasn’t that what you wished for? Friends to stay with you.”

Sunny wide his eyes, shocked at his words.

“So they are protecting you from something you are afraid of.”

“That’s not… That’s not what I…”

“B-Basil is…” Aubrey’s voice sounds hoarse.

Sunny looks at his friend, who drops the bat. Her eyes are wide open, moving her eyeballs in terror as she repeats what she said endlessly until she collapses to the ground.

“Aubrey!”

“Why t-this is happening… to us…?” Kel holds Hero’s arm in desperation to hold on.

“I… Basil… Mari…” Hero’s eyes are tearful and he, along with his little brother, collapses.

“What’s wrong with you!?” Sunny pushes Hero’s body to make him wake up but doesn’t move. “Please! Come on!”

Omori sighs. “Aubrey, Kel, Hero. Don’t make Sunny sad.” Red hands float out of the ground and cover the three children. Sunny stares at what Omori is trying to do.

The red hands penetrate the children’s skulls, raising them high and channeling energy into their forms, causing their bodies to pulse as they strive to fill their hollow frames. Sunny watches the bodies silently as they convulse and move their limbs up and down with jerkiness.

Sunny takes a step back, cringing at how Omori treats his tools, filling their heads with lies and delusions that shatter the innocence of his childhood. The things they spoke triggered a memory that sent a sharp pain through his head, filling him with a fear that he should forget it entirely.

As the puppets stop moving, they talk to Sunny, which doesn’t make him feel he should be calm.

“Jeez, Hero! You took so long!” Snorts Kel.

“Sorry for the late Omori!” Says Hero with a cheerful voice.

“Omori! Mari is waiting for us for the picnic! Let’s go to meet her!” Says Aubrey excitedly.

Red hands put all three on the ground and carry Basil’s body to the floor, assimilating as if nothing had happened.

“All done.” Comments Omori after finishing his work.

“Omori… What did you do?”

“A little work to get the people you love to be nice to you.”

“Omori!” Sunny gazes down at his reply.

“What’s wrong?”

Sunny steadies his breathing after seeing the devastating scene and Omori’s indifference.

“Stop it…”

“Why?” Omori tilts his head. “Your friends are kind to you and you’re happy with them. You don’t want to be alone.”

After witnessing the horrifying scene and Omori’s aloofness, Sunny steadies his breath, trying to regain his composure. He widens his eyes, exhaling sharply through his teeth. An unexpected, searing, and raw sensation surges through him after he listens to what Omori says.

Sunny dashes toward Omori, who swiftly shoves him to the ground, gripping his shoulders firmly and cleaving his nails into his pale skin while breathing heavily through clenched teeth. His eyes narrow when Omori doesn’t react to his attack.

He stares at his face and says, “Don’t worry. Do whatever you want to calm down.”

Sunny’s expression changes.

“I don’t like seeing you sad. I want you to be okay, and I can’t stop thinking about making you happy.”

Sunny shakes his head in negation. “Don’t mess with me… Because of you… Aubrey, Kel, and Hero…!”

“It’s a good thing they got good. You love the way they are now, don’t you?”

Sunny senses the gentle pats on his back and sees the surrounding smiles, yet deep down, he perceives them as mere illusions. That’s not how they smile, and even less so at this moment. To him, it feels like a twisted joke.

“Because of you… Basil… My friends are brainwashed!”

“Now you are no longer alone. They love you. What you wanted more than anything in the world.”

Sunny stares at Omori in shock.

“Sunny. I’m here to make you happy. You made me to make real your wishes.”

Sunny stops panting, letting go of his creation’s shoulders in silence. The words he said echo in his head as a reminder of his actions. He stands up, letting Omori go. Then he picks up the stained bat and looks up.

“Hey, Omori! Your friend wants to play with us!” Exclaims Kel.

“We can play after we meet Mari.” Says Hero.

“Didn’t know you like my bat! Don’t worry, we can find another one and play together!” Cheers Aubrey.

Sunny ignores the voices of these false friends. He is disgusted to hear lies. He grabs the bat and swings to hit the portrait on the table.

Sunny slams the table, shattering the toaster and everything else in his path until nothing remains intact. He swings the bat against the wall, tearing through the paper that unveils a vibrant purple space, and continues to rip it apart.

Omori’s eyes are fixed on his creator as Sunny bashes the other table, splitting it apart, and then he takes his frustration out on the TV, leaving the screen in ruins.

The boy drops the bat, exhausted from taking out all his frustration based on blows. He looks at the three who are still smiling as if nothing has happened and then looks at Omori. He doesn’t react to what he did. Sunny grips his hands tightly, the pain coursing through him, but his rising anger takes control.

“Are you done?” Asks Omori.

Sunny grits his teeth. Done with his apathy.

“I’m not happy. Do you think this is good for me!? Where do you see happiness here!? Anyone could tell by looking around! Don’t you see anything weird!?”

Omori stares at Sunny in silence.

“This is the worst! Everything you have done hasn’t been for me! You have no idea what I feel!”

Sunny screams in frustration, venting everything he has to say to Omori and waiting for Omori to react instead of remaining silent.

A damp sound echoes in the room. It echoes from behind Sunny, and as he turns to see, his anger swiftly transforms into sheer terror.

The pale skins of the puppets melt into a substance that looks like plastic to Sunny. Not only their skin, but their clothes too. He looks at their faces, where black bubbles appear on their cheeks, and then their open mouths open wider than humanly possible. Their lips stretch until their jaws drop, leaving behind thick, liquid streaks of their burnt skins.

The noises emanating from their throats bear a striking resemblance to suppressed laughter. A wave of dread washes over Sunny, making him feel as if his stomach has plummeted to the depths of his core, leaving him on the brink of collapse. The last remaining part is the eyes as they melt along with their bodies. Sunny hated seeing those fake eyes that showed no emotion. The muffled laughter is shattering his eardrums.

Finally, the three melt into an unsettling purple-white mass. They look like plastic. They melt, and the smell is foul. The most unsettling part was the way their muffled laughter turned raspy, only to fade into an eerie silence as they ceased making those unnatural noises.

Sunny puts his hands to his face, horrified. After witnessing their dissolution, the room collapses with a black liquid that coats and branches with vivid pulsations until the void swallows all.

The colorful mass has disappeared. The room is gone. Only Sunny and Omori are in the dark. Sunny looks at his creation, unable to say anything.

“I care about you, Sunny. Everything I did was for you.”

“…”

“It seems I was wrong. You hate yourself more than you want to be beloved by others.”

“Omori… I…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gone. You will return to your place rather than being here. Goodbye.”

“N-no! Omori!”

Darkness swallows Sunny, leaving Omori alone. He sits down, hugging his knees and looks down.

“I still care about you... It won’t matter if I hurt you. After all, I’m making real what you wish for.”

#omori omori #omori sunny #omosun #omosunweek2025

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