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sleepyangelkami · 8 months ago

Note

pls do more of carl grimes😭🙏🙏 (can be smut or fluff idrc🤭)

TROUBLE ADJUSTING c.grimes

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

CARL GIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - there was a heavy difference between travelling the roads filled with dead people walking and alexandria, a place that you fear is too much like the old world. you have some trouble adjusting, luckily your boyfriend carl doesn't mind you using him as a human shield.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - anxiety, social anxiety, obvious attachment issues, aged up characters, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

the roads were unlike anything you'd ever experienced in your entire life.

the prison wasn't exactly the best option but it was safe and it was secure. it kept the dead out and the living in. when you were at the prison, you were never told to leave the grounds. perhaps that was why the road had been such a shock to you and not the others.

you thought when you and the others got off the roads and found a new place to settle down, things would mellow out.

and by things, i mean the elephant in the room between you and carl.

you and carl had been dating for quite some time now. you'd always been close, you supposed. but on the roads? he was your safe haven. you slowly began isolating yourself into just you and him.

though he never minded, of course.

if anything, it put carl a little at ease, knowing you were always so close to him. during the prison, he worried tremendously about you, where you were during the night, what you were doing. you two weren't permitted to sleep in a cell together, at that stage.

but rick's rules began to disappear when death began to slap him in the face over and over. if anything were to happen to any of you, he'd like to think you lived doing what you wanted, what made you happy.

besides, you didn't really have anyone other than the grimes' family.

michonne and you had moved into the large grimes' house in alexandria. rick and michonne were at one end of the hall, judith's room somewhere in between and then it was carl's room. you didn't like to call it your room seeing as it wasn't your house. but the grimes' let you know that it was as much your house as it was theres.

"you wanna go for a walk or something?" carl questioned causing your head to move from his shoulder.

you and carl had this sort of ritual of reading comic books together since the beginning of the breakout. you were thankful that at least that didn't change now that you were in alexandria. "do you want to?"

carl shrugged, debating. sure, he wanted to. at the same time, he worried for you. it was evident that the change hadn't been good for you. once so bubbly and outgoing, you'd sort of shrunk into yourself. now, you didn't even feel all that comfortable talking to rick. "why not? the place is huge."

that much was true.

you'd never seen a place as huge as this, even before the breakout. you only worried that you may run into someone on the way.

"what's going on up there, baby?" his finger tapped against your head, bringing you back.

with a bitten lip, you tried your best to conceal the obvious anxiety bubbling in your chest. "i don' know... i jus' don't wanna see anyone."

"we don't have to." he shrugged his shoulders. "we'll just keep reading the comic." before relaxing back into the pillows of his bed.

but you couldn't leave it at that. "but you want to. you should go without me." feeling bad that you were restricting him from doing the things he wanted.

he could only chuckle lowly. "don't be silly, angel. wouldn't go nowhere without you." he didn't realise it, but truthfully, it had been the most comforting thing you'd heard all week.

you'd had so much worry caught in your throat about going out and meeting people that you began to think you were weighing the others down, too. "but i feel bad." you mumbled, voicing your feelings to the only person you felt like you could.

carl was quick to shush you. "i was just suggesting, maybe another day. y'know, now that i think about it, i'm kind of in the mood for hot coco and a movie, what d'you say?" though he was already getting up from the bed.

you sat criss-cross legged on the bed, practically pouting at him. "you don't like hot coco." you informed him, knowing what he was getting at.

"why can't you just let me do something nice for my pretty girl, hm?" lifting out his hand to you and letting you take it.

carl would never force you to talk to anyone.

a couple more days in the new community passed and rick was beginning to get worried. of course, he knew you and carl weren't normal teenagers, you never would be after the things you'd experienced in your lives. but he wanted you to be as normal as could be, and that included at least trying to make friends.

obviously, the man hadn't picked up on the obvious anxiety that followed you like a dark cloud over your head. so, he made arrangements with the blonde woman who lived down the street who had a son about your guy's age. who had a girlfriend and another guy friend. rick thought there would be no harm in at least meeting them. and if you came back to the house, not liking them, then he wouldn't force you guys to go back.

simple.

or at least it should have been.

you were sure you were shaking like a leaf by the time you made your way to the white door from across the street. worried you'd be looked at oddly, you didn't hold carl's hand, though you stayed silent, behind him.

the woman, jessie anderson, let you in with a smile on her face.

then you met her son, ron. "so mikey and enid are upstairs waiting for us, got some cool games if you play."

"uh, sure." as much as carl wasn't the awkward type, he still felt sort of odd in someone else's house. perhaps that was because he never experienced the whole 'teenager sleepover' thing.

you followed carl up the stairs, staying eerily close to him. you heard ron talk, even crack a joke. carl laughed and made a joke back. but truthfully, their words fell on deaf ears for you. your eyes travelled around the house, glancing to the family portraits hanging and so on.

you didn't look back until ron opened his bedroom door, allowing you both in and shutting it again. "hey guys." a boy with black hair whipped around and the girl who was sat on the bed, comic in hand, didn't bother looking up.

"oh, hey." the boy didn't exactly say hi to ron, more so to carl and you.

"hi." the girl spoke, not so much as looking away from the pretty coloured pages.

"so, this is mikey." pointing to the black haired boy who nodded swiftly before turning back to the gaming console he'd been playing on. "and enid." the girl who finally glanced up, eyeing the two of you before nodding. "and guys, this is carl and... sorry, what was your name again?"

three pairs of oggling eyes on you. you felt your own eyes widen and your mouth part, a little dry. suddenly, your own name was caught in your throat.

"y/n." carl responded for you, loud and proud as if he'd wanted to boast about you. "her name's y/n." instinctively, you found yourself shuffling closer to the boy, trying to make yourself as unseen as possible.

you swore you didn't leave his side the entire time you spent there. he got comfortable on the ground, back against the bed while ron sat above you two, at the edge, mikey on the desktop chair and enid, now on her second comic.

"so, how long you two been together?" you glanced up at the sound of mikey's voice. he was a well put together boy, expensive sweater and a collared shirt beneath. you were suddenly thankful for carl's dirty boots, cowboy hat and loose flannels. "been third wheeling these two for like forever. i know a couple when i see one."

carl and ron both huffed out a laugh, you did not. "yeah, we've been together for like forever too." carl's head turned to give you a graceful smile, one that had your cheeks turning a light pink before smiling back ever so softly. "hey, where's the, uh, where's the bathroom?"

you were almost tempted to grasp his arm and tell him you were coming with.

"just out the hall, first door to the right." ron answered, without taking his eyes off the screen.

"thanks, man." carl's baby blue's turned back to your nervous face. "i'll be back in a second, okay?"

you nodded, though you could feel the colour drain from your face without even looking in a mirror. carl left as quickly as he could, deciding that the quicker he left, the quicker he would be back. "so..." ron voiced again. you suddenly wondered how much he liked the sound of his voice, seeing as he wouldn't stay quiet for longer than a full minute. "not much of a talker?" you nodded your head softly before hearing the loud crash on the video game, jumping a little. "jumpy too huh?" you breathed out a sigh, shying in on yourself.

"don't worry." enid voiced, only now choosing to speak. "you get used to the noise again."

this caused your head to spin, what was she talking about. and without even having to ask, ron answered your question. "enid was on the roads too. i heard your group was on the road for a while, how was it?"

how was it?

"scary." you answered shortly, turning backwards and feeling your hands become clammy.

if there was one thing you wanted to forget, it was the roads. every day, it seemed as though you were loosing someone else. every day, you faced death and it stared you back right in the eyes. panic would come over you, wheeze it's way through your lungs.

carl would always hold you back, close to him as he stabbed his way through walkers with the others. but even that was a comfort to none.

every day, you were living, wondering if it'd be your last.

"i'll bet. i couldn't imagine living without my xbox." he snorted before pressing the shooting button again and letting bullets fly. it was now that you wished carl was next to you again, at least then you could squeeze his hand 'til it turned purple.

you wondered if everyone here was that shallow. if everyone only worried about their xbox or their stupid assets that in the long run, meant nothing.

"so, what do you think about alexandria?" this time it was mikey who'd asked the question.

"scary." you huffed out again. "but a different kind of scary."

"intimidating." enid answered for you. "it'll be like that for a while but you get used to it, just like the noise." you could tell that she was one of the good ones. the ones who don't care about silly things like objects. you could tell she'd seen the horrors you had, too.

"thanks." you mumbled, sheepishly glancing down to your fingers.

soon enough, carl returned from the bathroom, catching onto your face full of anxiety. he excused you both, stating that his dad needed help rearranging furniture or something or other. stupidly enough, the others believed you and soon bid a goodbye.

when you left, it felt like you could finally breathe again. you let out a breath of relief, fluttering your eyes shut and opening them again. carl was careful to peer at your face. "what'd you think?"

"the girl's nice." you mumbled.

"yeah? think so?" you could only nod in response. "well that's good, maybe you guys'll become friends. and the guys?"

you shrugged. "ron talks a lot." this caused carl to grin, a laugh puffing out from his cheeks causing you to do the same. it was much easier to laugh when it was just you and carl, even after everything you two had been through. "did you like 'em?"

"i guess." he gently nudged his nose against your cheek. "nothing compared to you, though." you couldn't help but roll your eyes, pretty smile dancing on your cheeks.

you huffed out again, noticing the way your chest suddenly felt clear of knots. "that was scary." you spoke honestly.

carl nodded his head, understanding that it wasn't exactly your thing. "it'll get better, though. just takes some getting used to." you couldn't agree more. "you're just having a little trouble adjusting, that's all. but you got me, right?"

the boy's elbow nudged you causing you to giggle softly and lean against his shoulder. "yeah, i got you."

he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your hair. "c'mon, let's go pick out another comic."

now that sounded like fun.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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kiame-sama · 1 month ago

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You discussed humanfuckers in the monster au recently and listed several characters who would be among the humanfucker ranks but I was surprised not to see Rook and Rollo on that list. I would have thought they'd be on that list as I can totally see them reading human erotica and 'appreciating' pornographic art of humans , maybe not on Trottr but perhaps published romance/erotica novels and classical style art pieces, perhaps even antique ones from when humans were still around. Also if Malleus is an honorary humanfucker for his interest in THE (his) human rather than just humans overall, wouldn't that mean most of the cast could be considered honorary humanfuckers too, if not right now then soon?

First part here:

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, mention of adult content, by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content.

~~~~~~~~

Because Rollo and Rook are on their way into it quickly due to sparked interest, but they weren't obsessed over Humans before meeting The Human. Those listed prior were obsessed long before meeting a Human in the flesh.

Rollo, up until he actually meets The Last Human, sees it as demeaning the species as a whole to write such hedonistic trash. He wishes to emulate the Righteous Judge in any way he can and the Judge cherished Humans above everything, even his own life. Rollo sees it like someone is depicting his deities- who he devotes his life to work in the name of- as common whores. He could tell you everything on the written history of Humans and the Humans of Fleur City because he has devoted his own time to learning about Humans. He respects and honors the legacy of Humans in Twisted Wonderland.

His attitude switch towards suggestice works involving Humans is as abrupt and jarring as a flash of lightning when he finally meets the Human of Night Raven and suddenly he sees the appeal. He thought the depictions of Humans were beautiful whenever he saw them, but his more carnal interests only really hit him when he met one. Now he gets it. He will never admit to such vile thoughts, but he has far more than he would like.

Rollo is going to be in future chapters, don't worry.

~•§•~

Rook is awakening into that role and idea. He really only saw Humans from a history standpoint, an end note to file away under mythical tales and long gone creatures. Sure, Human things exist all around him, but he likes to observe beauty in the moment. Why weep over what is long lost when there are beauties to observe here and now?

The Human of Night Raven is certainly now a beauty he can behold and marvel at. He is understanding the appeal and he is becoming more interested in learning all he can about these Humans. He is frustrated there is so little agreed upon when it comes to Humans. Human remains are so contested they can't even classify Humans in any official species. The popular theory is they are closest to pigs, hence the belief Humans shouldn't eat pork often. He thinks that's stupid, where are the pig ears and tails? The Boar variants of Minotaurs were very well known.

He is just falling down the rabbit hole, don't you worry. We will get to Rook's interest soon enough.

~•§•~

Malleus is honorary compared to the others for a few reasons, first; he won't turn up his nose to such works- published works, he still is not fond of technology- but when he reads them, it is his Human he thinks of. Not all Humans or the idea of Humans. That one Human in particular that is part of his Hoard and belongs to him, that one right there. He mentally overwrites all details of the Human love interest in the piece with the details of his Human and replaces himself as the monster suitor. He often imagines his Human as a Dragon as well and the romance the two of you could share as Dragons.

Second; Humans and the truth of them are still as illusory to Malleus as the surface of the moon would be to a cow. According to Lilia, they all looked different and had varying skin tones and hair styles, even eye colors, some even had completely different instincts from others. His entire view of Humans as a whole is based on the idea that no Human is the same or even comparable.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook x reader

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allastoredeer · 9 months ago

Text

Hello, don't mind me, I just need to vent for a second.

First off, I just wanna say, as an aroace person on the ace-spectrum, feel free to ship Alastor all you want. Ship him with anyone. Have fun with it. Sex repulsed. Non-sex repulsed. Grey-ace. Demisexual. Pure unadulterated smut. Whatever, have at it. I love that shit.

Just please do it without infantilizing ace-aro people.

The amount of art, fics, and takes I've come across that's so patronizing to Alastor and his sexuality. Thing's like Alastor venting to Rosie about his feelings for a character with the caption "Alastor feeling love for the first time." Or Alastor wanting to have sex with a character and having feelings about that, and someone commenting "That's called a boner, sweetheart. That means you like them 🤭"

Like??? Like do ya'll not see how patronizing that sounds? Being ace-aro doesn't mean you don't know your own body. It doesn't mean you don't understand the functions of your body.

It doesn't mean you've never experienced intense emotions. It doesn't mean you've never experienced love before.

And, look, I know these are meant to be jokes. I know. People are joking. I laughed at the first few I came across, too. It's not meant to be harmful or condescending; no one means it that way. But there's been so much with such...bad takes recently, and I don't know about any other ace-spec people (I don't speak for all ace-specs. Hell, there are probably other ace-spec's who don't mind, enjoy it, or are making content like it themselves. I just speak for myself) but GOD it's getting uncomfortable.

Alastor is in his late 30's-early 40's in human years. That is the established age range we have for him. Do you really think that he'd go that long without ever experiencing "love?" He went through puberty just like everyone else, do you think he doesn't understand his own body???

Being asexual, or sex-repulsed, or touch-repulsed doesn't mean you automatically don't explore these parts of yourself. It doesn't mean he's never, once in his life, touched his own dick, or pussy, or whatever genitalia you're giving him. He can still very well be a "virgin" (which in and of itself is a social construct) while also knowing his body and confidently handling any "sexual needs" he has.

Do you really think he doesn't know what a boner is? That in all the years he's been alive and dead (on Earth and in Hell), he wouldn't have experienced these things once? (And you know what? Maybe he hasn't! Perhaps there are ace's out there like that! But you're telling me he doesn't KNOW what that is??? Really???)

Ah, no, it's all because he just hasn't found the right person yet, right? It's not until Lucifer/Angel Dust/Vox, whoever found him, and they gave him these feelings, and oh no, poor Bambi is feeling twitterpated and horny for the first time, isn't that romantic!

Honestly, not really. It just sounds like the same, stupid shit ace-aro people hear from family, friends, and acquaintances about their sexuality. You know, the tried and true: "Oh, you just haven't found the right person yet. You'll want all that eventually, you'll see😊"

Do you not see how frustrating that is?

Look, I am all down for Alastor exploring parts of himself. I want him to navigate different relationships, feel them out, figure out what kind of relationship he wants and what he's okay and not okay with doing. But there are ways to do that without treating him like a little UwU silly baby boy who doesn't know his own body, or his own emotions, or his own relationships with other characters. Like he needs someone to teach him about himself.

How about instead, he finds someone he feels comfortable exploring these elements with? Instead of them "teaching" him how to fuck, or masturbate, or whatever the hell you want to call it, they're giving him the room and safe-space to explore it at his own pace??!!

It comes across as someone who isn't on the ace-spectrum "teaching" an ace-spec character about their own sexuality which puts such a gross taste in my mouth. Or, at least, that's how it comes across to me.

And the thing is, I know people aren't going to stop. I know they're going to keep infantilizing Alastor and his aro-ace identity, and I wasn't originally going to make this post, because you can't control what people do in fandom.

So this is mostly just a post to say: HEY! Hello! Ace-aro person here! I hope you all are having fun and I love that you're exploring Alastor's asexual/aromantic identity! Especially those who may not be in the ace-spectrum themselves, as you're learning about us and our experiences! That's awesome! Can we just do that while also treating Alastor like the adult he is? Can we do that without being infantilizing and patronizing about his sexual identity? Please?"

That's all I really wanted to say. I just needed to get this off my chest instead of letting it fester. This isn't an attack on anyone, this is just the perspective of an Alastor multi-shipper who loves exploring his relationships with other characters (sexually and non-sexually) and deep-diving into the dynamics of the show.

Thanks for reading.

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loaksky · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake.

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice.

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick.

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented.

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you.

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire.

He hates it. He hates you.

He thinks.

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth.

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him.

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you.

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone.

Like now, you linger.

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them.

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over.

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin.

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes.

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger.

“We going or what?” he finally says.

You perk up.

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly.

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents.

You roll your lips and shift on your feet.

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours.

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible.

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up."

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off.

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh.

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles.

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers.

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.”

Kiri rolls her eyes hard.

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you.

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam.

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand.

“Hi,” he says flatly.

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet.

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare.

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat.

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him.

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows.

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure.

“My birthday's coming up,” you start.

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs.

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest.

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you.

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone.

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens.

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend.

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back.

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face.

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly.

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp.

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice.

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head.

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply.

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly.

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off.

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle.

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target.

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot.

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile.

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.”

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target.

His heart sinks.

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two.

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn.

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs.

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest.

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path.

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora.

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel.

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks.

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!”

His chest rises and falls with a scoff.

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood.

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage.

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly.

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly.

Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you.

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?”

Friends.

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path.

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle.

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother.

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.”

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised.

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns.

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates.

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.”

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat.

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him.

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up.

You offer up the plate again.

“Lo’ak–“

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed.

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds.

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering.

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.”

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.”

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters.

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.”

“Dad!”

“Go, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air.

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology.

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye.

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction.

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief.

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest.

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about.

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile.

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy.

“You first,” you offer.

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing.

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.”

You shake your head quickly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him.

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you.

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile.

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn.

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation.

He shrugs.

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.”

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face.

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?”

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly.

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night.

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly.

“I dunno, green?�� he offers.

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly.

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.”

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal.

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages.

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up.

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet.

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.”

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him.

“Nothing.”

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session.

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you.

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off.

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade.

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended.

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips.

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars.

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.”

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night.

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has.

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries.

The words are leaving him before he can stop them.

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him.

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.”

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.”

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue.

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.”

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments.

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.”

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You nod, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night.

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring.

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village.

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed.

Kiri shrugs.

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.”

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully.

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower.

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist.

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again.

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw.

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands.

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff.

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly.

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him.

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control.

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard.

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly.

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?”

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.”

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–”

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too.

You try again anyways.

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.”

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch.

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face.

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later.

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore.

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully.

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates.

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles.

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.”

You frown.

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud.

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs.

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further.

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him.

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level.

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle.

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree.

You follow after him.

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects.

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.”

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off.

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels.

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!”

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you.

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry.

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!”

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles.

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper.

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!”

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you.

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat.

You dropped your journal.

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands.

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet.

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been.

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal.

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open.

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch.

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued.

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers.

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?”

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides.

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers.

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Spider winces behind him.

“You serious?”

Lo’ak sighs.

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…”

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.”

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him.

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.”

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?”

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!”

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation.

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs.

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps.

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?”

He blinks at the human.

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.”

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply.

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.”

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook.

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly.

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off.

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths.

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind.

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis.

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him.

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you.

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late.

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver.

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling.

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar.

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face.

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them.

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves.

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it.

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head.

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him.

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze.

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.”

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read.

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand.

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.”

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him.

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it.

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping.

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you.

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain.

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished.

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind.

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap.

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh.

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath.

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know.

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get.

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting.

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him.

His chest heaves as the words blur.

Fearless.

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward.

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye.

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time.

likes green and blue.

likes yovo fruits.

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest.

When he turns the page, his breath hitches.

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes.

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another.

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star.

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like.

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease.

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones.

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river.

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide.

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you.

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself.

He stands from the hammock and runs.

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins.

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape.

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.”

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him.

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm.

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

The tears well on their own.

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will.

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.”

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below.

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.”

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky.

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.”

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues.

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you.

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.”

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!”

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness.

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better.

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence.

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat.

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task.

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest.

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his.

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze.

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly.

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?”

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression.

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?”

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly.

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…”

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest.

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.”

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines.

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines.

“Why should I help you with your mess?”

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment.

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd.

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show.

Be brave.

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space.

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips.

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him.

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again.

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side.

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder.

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday.

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you.

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact.

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet.

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely.

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right.

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt.

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart.

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.”

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve.

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough.

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids.

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.”

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push.

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees.

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage.

“I’ll only be a second!”

“Wait, Kiri!”

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path.

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself.

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams.

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls.

“Lo’ak…”

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes.

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet.

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer.

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads.

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly.

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat.

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream.

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.”

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.”

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words.

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.”

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him.

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes.

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.”

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek.

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.”

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you.

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?”

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze.

“Did you…”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?”

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening.

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately.

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push.

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.”

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines.

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.”

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out.

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.”

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head.

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him.

“Please.”

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours.

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope.

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers.

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss.

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you.

To being loved by you.

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…”

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.”

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by.

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift.

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.”

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you.

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself.

“Lo’ak, wow…”

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.”

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar the movie #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year ago

Text

First Date - Diasomnia

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let's pretend these are different. ;)

CHARACTERS: Malleus Draconia; Silver; Sebek Zigvolt & Lilia Vanrouge

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: None. Except maybe a little spoiler about Silver that he tells in Twisted Halloween: Spectral Soiree

WORD COUNT: An average of 710 words per character.

Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia

COMMENTS: I think Diasomnia is the hardest dorm to write for me. That's because, apart from Malleus, I don't have many romantic feelings for the others. I like them, I love Lilia, but not in that way. But I still try my best to write something that I think you will like. I just hope it's good enough.

I hope you enjoy ;)

Aaaah, the day has finally arrived. Malleus already wanted to ask you on a date for a long time. But with his status, doing something like that in public wasn't a good idea. Something like that being public knowledge could be bad for him and especially for you. After all, he learned from a young age to deal with rumors and social pressure. Besides, no one in their right mind would mess with him. But not only are you human, you can't even use magic. He doesn't even want to think about how your life could be affected because of him. At least for now.

So your first date would have to be discreet and even a secret. Fortunately, you two are quite fans of secrets. He doesn't tell you where he's going to take you. You only find out when the two of you are already in the front yard of the ruins of an abandoned mansion. If you also like abandoned places like him (and me) you will find that mansion fascinating! If you're not a big fan, maybe you'll be a little scared. But either way, you'll find it a strange and perhaps a little disappointing choice for a first date to say the least.

“Something the matter?” he asks you. You say no, that you're just intrigued and curious to know why he chose that place. He smiles, amused. “Then we must enter, to satisfy your curiosity.” he takes a step in front and extends his hand to you. “Shall we?” You take it and the two walk hand in hand through the undone front yard.

That place make you feel a little unease, so you end up squeezing his hand and taking your other hand to his arm, like hugging it. It makes him happy, knowing that you see him as someone who will protect you.

As soon as you walk through the front doors, you see that, despite being slightly run-down, the interior is magnificent. A mansion so gorgeous that seeing it in ruins even feels like blasphemy. He can see it in your face which makes him laugh. You are still holding hands, so he leads you to the dining room while he tells you a little about the history of that mansion. Nothing too scary. People had to evacuate many years ago and just never came back.

The dining room still had the long table, the chairs, the furniture, a few damaged paintings and even a vase of dead flowers in the middle of the table. He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit on. This one was in bad shape, but as soon as he touched it, it instantly restored itself. You sit down, and he loves the way you're looking at him, intrigued to know what he's going to do.

Standing beside you and smiling at you, he snaps his fingers. And the entire room is restored with his magic. As if time were turning back to his state of glory. He never took his eyes off you. Your smile is the most beautiful thing in the entire mansion. And you are surprised again when the three ghosts of the Ramshackle Dorm appear as butlers to serve you dinner. Malleus asked them for that favor. Of course, your favourite dishes.

He sits right next to you. “Tell me, is this good enough for a first date? Should I restore the entire mansion and the garden as well?” You tell him how you feel, that it's more than enough, that it's one of the most beautiful things anyone's ever done for you. He takes your hands in his and look you in the eyes “I'm glad this pleases you so much. But something inside me wants a little more than this. I'm looking forward to the day when we'll be just like this, but in my castle and with my grandmother, the queen, getting to know you and seeing you as I do.” and he caresses your cheek.

You tell him how much you look forward to that day too, while smiling and bringing your forehead closer to his. After these touch each other, it's your lips' turn.

It will probably have to be you asking Silver out on a first date to wait for him to do it. Not that he didn't want to ask you, but he's not exactly the best in that department. He can be a little... clueless. You will catch him by surprise with your invitation. “A date? No, it's not that I don't want to go on one with you. It's quite the opposite. I'm sorry I didn't express it in the better way.” He gives you his sweetest smile and blushes a little “I-I would love to go on a date with you.”

When you ask about what you could do on this date, he asks you to let him be the one to prepare everything. Since it's the least he can do for not being the one inviting you. That and since he's from Twisted Wonderland, he might have an easier time figuring out places you can go together.

He's a simple, sweet guy who made the mistake of asking his dad for ideas. Luckily he is aware that bungee jumping would not be a good first date idea. Okay, okay, but after messing with his son for a bit, Lilia still manages to give a good tip: go to a place with animals and work your magic... Not your real magic, dummy.

Well, the only thing he can remember is a picnic. He just hope it's not too boring for you. He doesn't do anything too elaborate. Like I said, he's a simple guy. But the place he chose to take you was beautiful. a small glade in the forest on the edge of a small peaceful river. You can hear the water of the river mixed with the birds singing.

You hold the basket as he spreads out the picnic blanket. And suddenly, at the two opposite ends of the blanket, two little birds appear to help him spread it out. You can't hide your surprise and it makes him smile in amusement. You sit down and start your picnic. And some animals appear while you are distracted by each other.

You begin to notice that new birds of other colours have appeared. Squirrels, with both those big fluffy tails and the short-tailed ones. And rabbits, some gray and some brown. Silver sees the way you look at them, the face of someone who wants to pet them. So he uses his "magic" to make the animals approach him and you. Thanks to it, you can pet all those animals, birds, squirrels and rabbits. You may not realize it, but he smiles while seeing your own smile.

Suddenly, those animals start running away. But you don't know why. Until you hears very heavy footsteps approaching. Silver automatically stands and takes a defensive position in front of you to protect you. From the middle of the trees a big bear appears! You get scared, but Silver doesn't. In fact, he even relaxes a little. The bear itself is not even standing, it is standing on all fours and does not look angry.

Silver turns to you, smiling and extends a hand to you who were still sitting on the blanket. “Do not be afraid. I know this bear.” You look at him in shock. “Everything is fine. She just know I was here and wanted to say hello. Would you like to meet her?” You take his hand and he helps you up. He slowly approaches the bear, without taking his hands off your shoulders. He takes your hand and holds it out to the bear, who sniffs it and then lowers her head to let you pet her. A few seconds later you hear some small grunts near your feet. Cub bears!

His father was right. You were so happy playing with those cute little cubs. And even Mama Bear thought she should help you two out a little bit. She pushes you with her muzzle so you fall into Silver's arms. And you take the opportunity to hug him and tell him how amazing that date was being. And if you kiss him on the cheek, he'll kiss your cheek right back, until the two of you are on each other's lips.

(Lilia may or may not be spying on you two and celebrating in silence.)

How did you do that? All people who know Sebek are incredulous! It took a long time to arrive this moment. And meanwhile, the way he treats you has changed. He still calls you Human, but this time it's more like a pet name, a bit like Malleus calls you Child of Man. And he smiles at you a lot more, although most of the time he still has that serious grimace of his. And how did he invite you on the date?

“HUMAN!” he catches your attention and approaches you. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The two of you move away from the others to speak more privately. And he starts to blush “I... um...” he takes a deep breath “Would you like to come with me on a date?” You often hear people saying that phrase in another word order, but still you accept, laughing a little. “You... EXCELLENT!” he smiles at you, the kind of smile he only gave Malleus. And says he will pick you up the next afternoon.

He knocks effusively on the door, so much so that it scares you. When you open the door, the first thing you see is a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums in your favourite colours. You pick it up and hold it in your arms. You look at Sebek and... um... I mean he looks very handsome and elegant, but was a suit like that needed for a first date? He looked more like he was in the new Operation Proposal group. Nonetheless, the sight of him in that suit could make you blush. He had a confident smile on his face until he looks at your clothes. Well, he didn't warn you that it was going to be that kind of date. So you dressed for a "normal" one.

“WHAT IS THAT? Don't tell me you don't have date clothes! You should have told me! I would have provided you with the best outfit for the occasion!” You argue with him a bit about there being different types of dates and he didn't specify the type of date because he wanted to surprise you. “*Sigh* You’re right. I apologize for not giving you enough information to choose your outfit correctly.” Fortunately, you had more suitable clothing for the occasion. You go up to your room to change and when you come down, you can see his smug face blush.

He takes you to... Diasomnia. He takes immense pride in his dorm and wanted to get you to the best place possible. He has prepared a room especially for the two of you. With the help of Lilia, Silver and maybe even Malleus. (Let's pretend in this "reality", Malleus isn't that attached to you) And, surprise or not: a candlelit dinner. In this case with green fire. Lilia told him it was a classic.

The main course was a typical traditional Briar Valley dish. But dessert was your favourite. Yes, there were times when he spoke of Malleus. You cannot change it on him. And later, somehow, you ended up talking about his parents. You start to tease him about his mother falling in love with a "mere" human. Couldn't that be a parallel with the two of you as well?

“Do not be ridiculous! I would never fall in love with a mere human! My standers are reasonably higher than that.” And if you ask him why you two are on a date: “Weren't you paying attention to what I was saying? I said that I would never fall in love with a mere human. I cannot believe you identify as one! Do you really believe that a mere human would do everything you've done? There are humans capable of using magic, who would never reach your heels. So, never again believe that you are on such a low level, do you hear me?!”

You smile, more flattered than ever. Which makes him smile too. This is your chance to challenge him to prove how special he really thinks you are. How? How about a kiss? After all, this is a date, isn't it?

The way Lilia asked you out on a date was so... him... that you didn't even know if he was just joking or being serious. Either way, you accepted it. Which seemed to surprise him a little. “Khee hee hee. Very well then. A date shall be.” If you ask when, he'll smirk at you. “You enjoy surprises as well, correct?” then he kisses your cheek and disappears.

You would be expecting him to show up at least the next day, right? And that's why he only appears the day after that. Or rather, the night after that. You hear knocking on your window, you draw the curtains, but you see nothing. Until he suddenly appears upside down outside. After the scare he gave you, you open the window.

“Khee hee. Good evening, prefect.” He looks at the pajamas you have on. “It's not what I expected you to wear for our date, but it sure is different. Khee hee, worry not. I'll give you time to change. I'll wait for you in the living room.” Before he leaves your room, you try to ask him where you are going so you know what to wear. “Um... very well, I'll give you a hint: dress to have fun.” And that's the only clue he gives you. Just in case, you dress in a little more sporty style, but still pretty.

He tells you it's an excellent choice and how good that outfit looks on you. You walk to the Mirror chamber for, through the looking glass, him to take you to... an Amusement Park. And since it's already night, the park is all lit up with the colours of the rides and food stalls. Coming from a kingdom solely reliant on magic, this sort of things are fascinating to him. And better, since magic is not necessary to have fun there, nothing prevents you from having as much fun as he does.

He will try to take you to the most crazy rides. If you like that, great! You are going to be the bravest couple in the entire park. Which will contrast with how cute you two are on the outside. If you don't like these rides. There is absolutely no problem. He will ride with you wherever you want and feel comfortable riding. The priority is you. If you are having fun, he will be having fun with you. That and, let's face it, this guy probably already did crazier things than riding a roller-coaster. Which means your fun is more important.

After the rides, you have dinner together at one of the food stalls. He offers to pay for everything. Old chivalry. After eating and before leaving, he suggests that the two of you take a look at the prize booths. He would like the two of you to carry away some good memories of that day.

A small plush of a black and pink bat catches your eye and you tell Lilia how much that plush reminds you of him. Not just for the colours (and the size) but also because both are so cute! “Would you like to try to win one? I make a point of paying for your attempts.” he doesn't want you to worry about money, just having fun.

The prize is a target shooting stand. You have to blow up the balloons with a dart. You have three tries, you need to get at least two right to get that bat. But everyone fails. Lilia notices that the prize booth guy is using magic to make you fail, but doesn't comment. Instead, he pretends not to have noticed and offers to win the plush for you himself.

Fooled by his cute appearance, the guy does the same trick on him, but it fails miserably. With just a quick gesture, he hits the three balloons in a row. Which surprises/scares the booth guy. He could get the highest prize, but he just wants the little bat. “Oh, actually I have a proposal for you.” he says with his cute smile. “What if, instead of the highest prize, you gave us those two stuffed bats? Maybe that could also redeem you from using magic against my dear date. Surely you regret using such a low trick?” he's still smiling, but his bright red eyes are menacing.

He got the black bat with pink details for you and a pink bat with black details for himself. Now, he also had something that reminded him of you. “I hope that trick of his didn't make you sad that your attempts failed.” You say maybe at first, but after seeing Lilia in action and scaring that guy, you're even glad you failed the balloons just to see that. “Khee hee hee. Your way of seeing the positive side of things is undoubtedly irresistible.” and he kisses your cheek “Um? Why that face? Were you expecting another kind of kiss?” he smirks, as an invitation to be yourself and get what you want from him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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lady-pug · 4 months ago

Text

Written Between the Lines

Chapter II - We Shall Find Our Answers

Summary: You and your family return to King’s Landing after several years, and you are dreading having to face your uncle again. While you cannot change the past, maybe the lines on his palm can show some insight into your future. And maybe, just maybe, the future might be bright for the two of you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Pssst. Hey, you. I’m back. And I bring thee the continuation of this story, which I had a lot of fun writing. I intend on writing more for this little universe, so if you've liked this story so far, please consider staying tuned for more parts to come!

Just for clarification, I don’t understand much about the rules and laws of monarchy, but since this is my story and I’m already saying ‘screw canon’, we’re also gonna say ‘fuck tradition’ (and if any of the characters, especially Aemond, seem a bit ooc I deeply apologize, I’m just trying very hard to Bob-The-Builder the events of the show)

Also, I have purposefully left the question of the reader’s father somewhat ambiguous so there can be more leeway for the reader’s appearance to be undescribed.

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this story! <3

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It had been several years since you had last stepped foot in King’s Landing. Not since the death of your aunt and father. Or fathers. Which meant you hadn’t seen Aemond since that fateful night in Driftmark. You’d been by his side in an instant once Luke had shaken you awake wailing like a babe that he had done something terrible. You had held his hand as the maester tended to his wound, much to his mother’s grief. She had even tried pushing you away from her son, but his hand held tightly around yours prevented you from going too far. He had wanted, no, needed the comfort of your presence. But that all changed when Jace explained what had transpired, what he had called your younger brothers and, by extension, yourself. You had dropped his hand as if it burned, feeling more betrayed than ever, not missing the way your hurt was reflected in his own eyes. Well, eye. He had tried to talk to you after everyone had been excused but you fled from him, not wanting to face him just yet. Perhaps never again, you had thought at the time.

Now a grown woman, you returned to King’s Landing once more, summoned by the court for a hearing in which Ser Vaemond Velaryon intended to question Lucerys legitimacy as heir to Driftmark (which he was in for a surprise as your mother did not intend to pass Driftmark down to Luke, but to Jacaerys instead, as previously discussed and agreed with your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, while she would name you, her firstborn, as heir to the Iron Throne after her). So it’s no surprise you were not looking forward to this visit at all.

While you had kept in contact with Helaena through exchanged ravens, you hadn’t once written to Aemond, nor had he done so to you. You were dreading the moment you had to see him again, as you didn’t know how he would react to seeing you after the way you left things off in the past. In reality… you missed him. You missed having someone to talk to, someone who truly cared about what you had to say, who shared similar interests to you and enjoyed the diverging ones all the same. You missed your study partner, as Jace’s high valyrian was incredibly subpar, leaving him far behind you in his studies. You simply missed having him.

The first moment you had laid eyes on him had been, unsurprisingly, in the courtyard. You’d been following after your brothers as they explored what had changed and what hadn’t around the Keep, trying to ensure they didn’t get into any trouble, when you noticed a small crowd forming around two men engaged in a heated training match. One was none other than Ser Criston Cole, who hadn’t aged a single day but looked like the stick up his ass had slipped even further in, and the other…

You couldn’t help but stare, oblivious to anything else around you. He had grown quite a lot in the years you’d been apart. He was taller, his shoulders pulled back and his head held high, no longer the timid, self-conscious boy you’d once known. Where Ser Criston was strong Aemond was fast, his tall frame and lithe shape allowing for a more fast paced combat, his movements sharp yet swift and even somewhat… graceful.

“You should clean up, right there.” you snapped out of your reverie, brought back to focus by your brother Jace, who motioned to the corner of his own mouth with a smirk hanging from his lips “You’re drooling.”

Feeling a warm flush on your cheeks you swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, finding nothing there, as Jace chuckled at your naivety and moved to join the crowd along with Luke.

Little cunt.

You followed after your brothers just as Aemond had his sword pointed right at Ser Criston’s neck. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, only catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Have you come to train?” he had been saying, his eye trained on Luke, some underlying darkness swirling in it, before his gaze finally met you and something shifted in it almost imperceptibly “Little niece.”

The way he said it, the use of the once mocking title, left you reeling. The tone he used made it so you couldn’t quite tell if he had been sneering at you or in awe at your presence, if he was jesting or quite serious, mocking or sincere.

But your musings were interrupted by the gates opening, Ser Vaemond walking in as if he owned the place. Or like he was owed something from this place. It seemed your dreaded reunion with your uncle would have to wait.

As much as you hated being back in King’s Landing you couldn’t deny this place did manage to keep you entertained. The hearing had gone as well as one could expect, with Ser Vaemond hurling one insult after another at both you, your brothers and your mother and ultimately losing his head for it. All was well with your family, Jace’s claim to Driftmark and his status as future Lord of the Tides and your own as heir to the Iron Throne after your mother had been reaffirmed by the King himself, backed by your grandmother.

During the whole hearing you couldn’t help but glance at Aemond from the corner of your eye every once in a while. He had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face all throughout Vaemond’s speech, the bastard, but once your mother mentioned her desire to establish you as her heir to the Throne something changed. His gaze met yours and his face softened, the smugness disappearing all together from his features.

It was the last you saw of him, having taken off to the courtyard to relish in the diminishing sun as it lowered in the sky by sitting under the weirwood tree. Jace and Luke were enjoying a stroll around the Keep with their respective betrotheds, occasionally passing by your peripheral vision.

“I thought I’d find you here.” a voice cut through the air, souring your mood.

“Have you come to question my legitimacy as well, uncle?” you asked Aemond, who stood in front of you with his hands behind his back, before nodding in your brother’s direction as they skirted the edge of the courtyard “Be careful not to speak too loudly, we wouldn’t want you to lose yet another eye, now, would we?”

The smallest twitch of his eye was the only indication that he was bothered by what you said. You knew it was low, and you did feel a twinge of guilt about it, but the hurt you’d been cultivating for him since that night was festering in your heart.

“Always the jester, little niece.” he smirked, taking a seat next to you, keeping you on his good eye’s side.

“Only for you.”

You both fell silent, the air around charged with years of tension built between the two of you.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages.” he spoke softly, facing forward.

“You didn’t write.” you jabbed.

“You didn’t either.”

He had you there.

“Helaena’s told me of your travels.” he tried again “You’ve visited quite a lot of places.”

“I wanted to see the realm.” you explained, feeling some of the tension dissipating as he extended an opportunity for you opened up “To learn the ways of the people we are to rule.”

He only hummed in response.

“And what about you?” you turned to him, noticing how his body seemed to instinctively turn towards you as well “How have you been faring?”

“Oh, you know.” he shrugged, nonchalantly “I have been busy, studying, training with a sword, as you’ve very well seen,” the smirk that formed on his face was enough to bring heat to your cheeks “and trying to stop Aegon from drowning in his cups every night.”

A giggle escaped from your lips, which in turn prompted a small grin from him. This moment, right here with him, felt like before; it felt freeing. The full weight of how much you had missed him hit you like a Vhagar-sized carriage.

A moment of silence passed before he turned somber again.

“My mother has deemed it time for me to find a wife.” he spoke slowly, his words making something twist painfully in your chest “She’s been trying to find matches for me in some of the noble houses. But none of the ladies in court will even look at me.”

He cast his gaze down and away from you, his stoic demeanor cracking for a moment and giving way to a forlorn expression. It seemed… awfully familiar to you.

“I frighten them. Not just them, the maids too.” his voice was soft, resignation dripping from his words, the prideful man you saw earlier in the yard taking a step back to allow the shy and insecure boy you once knew to make a reappearance “I think your lines have lied to you. No lady would ever want a one-eyed husband.”

“Aemond-”

“I told you once before, I don’t appreciate your pity, niece.” his tone hardened, but it lacked venom, meaning he wasn’t angry with you, rather upset at himself.

You could only wonder how much the events of that night had changed him, for better and worse. He might argue that he had claimed a dragon, the biggest in the world, so that made things even but you could only imagine the kind of pain, both physical and emotional, he had gone through since then.

“For what is worth” you started, raising a hand to his face very slowly, giving him more than enough time to halt your movements. He flinched at first but eventually relaxed, allowing you to lay your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly against the end of his scar “I am truly sorry for what happened that night. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

His hand raised, grasping your wrist and running his own thumb on the skin at the edge of your sleeve.

“What I said that night,” he closed his eye for a moment then looked at you again “it was unbefitting. I never meant to hurt you.” he paused, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, as if he was letting go of a lifetime of weight he’d been carrying “No more than I believe Lucerys meant to hurt me as badly as he did.”

It was an olive branch, you realized. Given how he now carried himself it was the closest thing to an apology you’d get. While he might not simply ever forgive your brother, he was willing to try and put it behind him, to let go of the pain, for you. And for that you’d forever be grateful to him. He tilted his head to the side, letting his lips linger on your palm for just a moment, before pulling your hand away from his face and carefully placing it on your lap again, both of you facing forward once more.

The silence that fell was not an uncomfortable one. It reminisced of the days you’d sit together in this same spot and wait for the servants to come fetch you when it was time for supper. But every nice moment had to be broken at some point.

“My grandsire and mother believe Aegon should be named my father’s heir.” he spoke after a moment, your head quickly snapping to look at him.

“What?”

“They believe that, as his firstborn son, he would have a better claim to the throne.” he glanced at you “That most lords would support him if it came to it.”

You were baffled by this revelation, even though you shouldn’t really be all that surprised. Otto Hightower was a cunt who would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne. As much as your mother resented her former friend you’d come to the conclusion that Otto had been the one responsible to sway Alicent against her. It shouldn’t come as a surprise he would be plotting against her. That’s why the man was smug about today’s hearing, and why his face promptly fell once Rhaenys made her support of Jacaerys, and by extension your mother, known. But…

“Why are you telling me this?” you questioned, confused as to why Aemond, the dutiful son, would tell on his family like that.

An amused grin, almost resembling a smirk, took over his features, his eye turned away from you.

“New information has come to light regarding the line of succession.”

Your heart clenched, a smile of your own appearing on your face. He recognized you as heir to the Throne, as a future queen.

His smile, however, slowly slipped from his face, leaving a sad look in its wake.

“What troubles you, uncle?” you asked.

“I just-” he sighed, almost exasperated “I just do not understand how they could possibly believe Aegon of all people fit to be king. He, who disappears every fortnight for the Street of Silk, who’s barely ever sober during the day. He, who has his way with the servants while his own wife exists silently, he who, dare I say, barely understands a word of high valyrian and the importance of our family to the realm.”

His rant left him slightly breathless, as if he had been suppressing those feelings for a very long time. And although he had not dared say it, you heard the hidden meaning behind his words. If he, now a grown man, was anything like he was as a boy, he was much more suited to be king than his brother was. He was probably well studied in both history and philosophy, he knew his way quite well around a sword, as you’d seen, and he’d kept up with his lessons in high valyrian, like you had. He would make for a fine king, if it weren’t for your mother and, eventually, you.

And then it hit you.

Otto Hightower would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne.

“Give me your hand.” you spoke firmly.

Aemond looked at you quizzically, taking too slow to comply so you forcefully grabbed his hand in yours, his palm facing upwards.

“Not this again.” he said, bemused.

As you ran your finger delicately over his palm, you took your time noticing the way calluses adorned the skin, once soft under your touch, probably from years of dragon riding and intense sword training.

“Your line of life is still quite long, good.” you heard his scoff, although it sounded quite like a barely contained laugh “It means the Stranger will not come for you for quite a while still.”

His eye was trained on you as traced another line on his hand.

“And your line of heart still tilts upwards, so you will marry a woman who loves you dearly.”

You spoke with so much conviction, squeezing his hand, your eyes finally glancing up, locked firmly onto his own as you said it.

“She’ll love and cherish you for everything that you are, unwaveringly and unapologetically. You’ll be hers as much as she’ll be yours.”

His eyes shone with barely contained hope, before you averted your gaze back to his palm.

“And here,” you pointed to a small line near the bottom of his palm “is the line of the king. It appears only on the hands of those who are destined to rule over the realm.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t falter.

“You are jesting again, niece.”

“I am not.” you shook your head, determined “The lines have never lied before, remember?” you mentioned, and he couldn’t argue with that, as the prediction you’d spoke of last time you found yourselves in this exact situation came true barely a few weeks afterwards “You will be king, Aemond.”

You stood up quickly, barely brushing the skirts of your dress as you did.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You took off before he could question you, rushing out of the courtyard in search of your mother. You had a matter most important you needed to discuss with her, one you’d already brought up with her many moons ago, but which at the time felt more like a distant childish dream.

Aemond hadn’t spoken to you again until it was time for supper. He had caught a quick glimpse of you sometime after you left the courtyard, speaking in hushed whispers with your mother while Daemon looked thoroughly vexed. But before he could approach you and inquire about your sudden departure earlier, both you and your mother took off to one of your chambers, he assumed, leaving his uncle to stare murderously at him. While Aemond wasn’t frightened by Daemon, he would even go as far as to say he admired the man, something about the way he was staring at him deeply unsettled him, so he decided to leave and wait for a better opportunity to speak to you, alone.

Now, during what surely was to be one awkward meal, he could see you from the other side of the table where you sat next to Baela. You looked positively radiant, smiling with your step-sisters and occasionally jesting with your brothers. From time to time you’d catch his eye, your smile turning mirthful, as if you knew something he didn’t. More than once throughout the night he caught you and Rhaenyra sharing a small, quick nod to one another, and Daemon rolling his eyes whenever he also noticed it.

After King Viserys congratulated Jacaerys and Lucerys on their betrothals, Jace leaned over Baela and whispered something to you. While he looked sullen, Baela had a small understanding smile as you tried to sooth him. His face softened as you grasped his hands, trying to reassure him of something, Baela supporting you quietly. The overjoyed smile that took over your features as Jace nodded lit something in Aemond’s chest, his heart skipping a beat.

At a certain point, after the King’s speech and Rhaenyra and Alicent’s toasts, Aegon got up and leaned over to “whisper” something to Baela, catching the attention of all those around her. Aemond couldn’t hear what his brother said all the way from his side of the table, but whatever it was Jacaerys looked like he was about to drive a dagger through him. But you and your sharp words were quicker.

“At least he can stay sober long enough to get it up.” you spoke, your voice loud enough for the entire room to hear “Can Helaena say the same about you, uncle?”

Several reactions could be heard around the table. Helaena herself snorted into the wine she had been sipping, Daemon laughed loudly from his place at Rhaenyra’s side and even a small, tired chuckle could be heard leaving the King’s mouth. Aemond couldn’t help but smirk as his brother all but crumbled back in his seat, a frown unveiling his embarrassment.

Jace took his time toasting both his uncles but there was something… different in the way he addressed each of them. Whereas Aegon’s name was said with mocking admiration and contempt, Jace’s tone as he said Aemond’s name was laced with quiet resignation. And the tiny grin he directed at Aemond took him by surprise.

Helaena, a little bit tipsy at this hour, also took the opportunity to congratulate Rhaena and Baela in their betrothals, also taking a jab at Aegon’s already wounded pride. While he felt his chest fill with pride for his sister, Aemond couldn’t help but notice the moment you shared with your mother once again, the questioning look on her face and the determined nod you gave as answer to whatever question you found in the depth of her eyes.

“Speaking of marriage,” Rhaenyra started as she stood up and turned to face the seats of his father, mother and grandsire “my only daughter is now of marrying age as well.”

Aemond felt something twist painfully in his chest at the thought, turning his eye to glance at you and was surprised to find you already looking at him, the corners of your lips turned up in a soft grin.

“I would like to make a proposition.” your mother continued, turning to look at him, bringing his attention back to her. He felt his heartbeat increase as she stared at him for a moment longer, some heat climbing to his cheeks, before she turned to address his family once again, her eyes locked onto Alicent “I would like to propose we wed her to your second son, Prince Aemond.”

He barely registered anything else over the thunderous flow of blood against his eardrums, reflecting on the speed at which his traitorous heart was beating in his chest. He glanced back at you, watching as you smiled warmly at him. Something in him just felt right. He felt as if everything was falling into place within his life.

Aemond had never let himself want. He realized quite early in his life that he would only ever be the second son, and considering how much his father favored Rhaenyra over any other of his other children, he didn’t really matter much in comparison to his siblings. So he had learned never to wish for anything for himself, he had never dared hope that good things would come to him. And now here you were, the only one who has ever truly cared for him, offering something he never allowed himself to dream of.

“And” Rhaenyra continued, drawing his attention back to her. There was more? What else could she possibly offer that could be worth more than that? He allowed himself a quick glimpse at Daemon, who once again looked bothered by what she was about to say “once I have come to pass and it is time for her to take over as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he would be crowned king alongside with her. He would be not a prince, nor king consort, but a true king. They would rule as equals, and eventually their children would sit in the Iron Throne after them.”

What?

As soon as the words were out of her mouth his mind simply ceased to work. They were thinking of… what? His head quickly snapped to look at his family, wanting to gauge their reactions as well and assess if they were just as confused as he felt.

His father was positively delighted at the prospect of uniting his fractured family once more. His mother, on the other hand, looked irked at Rhaenyra for having sprung this proposition in front of Viserys, as he’d obviously agree, and she wasn’t looking forward to having a possible bastard as her son’s wife (even if she knew he once cared deeply for you). And his grandsire… he looked conflicted. Otto Hightower wasn’t an easy man to read, but he had been so caught by surprise that he was wearing all his emotions on his sleeve. While he, like Alicent, seemed bothered by the timing of this proposal, he also looked… intrigued?

“We were thinking of passing Dragonstone down to Aegon and keeping both Aemond and my daughter here in King’s Landing so they can learn with me and the council the ways of ruling, so they are well prepared when it comes their time to rule.”

“And what of Lucerys?” Alicent questioned warily.

“He would live in Driftmark with Jace, learning the ways of salt and sea, in hopes of one day becoming my, and later his sister’s, Master of Ships.” Rhaenyra completed.

Silence ruled over the room for a moment, nobody daring to utter a word. Not even the servants, watching from the corners, made a single sound.

“And who was the one” Viserys spoke slowly, getting more tired as the night progressed “behind such a wonderful idea?”

“I-” your mother started, but Daemon quickly cut her off.

“The girl did.” he nodded his head towards you, a smug smile growing on his lips at the prospect of possibly throwing you under the carriage.

Aemond’s head snapped towards you, your smile never wavering. So that’s what you had been speaking to Rhaenyra all day. After your talk in the courtyard, you’d gone off to find your mother, to express your wishes not only to marry Aemond, but to also make him king. Just like the lines on his palm told you. But… why?

“And just what” Otto questioned, as if reading his grandson’s mind “has led the princess to decide to break hundreds of centuries of tradition and wish to share the Throne?”

Rhaenyra turned back to you, sending a silent question in your direction yet again. You shook your head and stood up, as if deciding to face the judgment of the Hightowers all by yourself.

“While my family has resided in Dragonstone for the past few years, my lord,” you started, an eloquence that indicated you’d been preparing, and maybe even rehearsing, this speech in your mind for a while “I have taken to flying around the realm on dragonback, visiting all of the Seven Kingdoms. I’d wished to see for myself and understand the people I’d one day rule over. However, being away from King’s Landing for so long also means I am not versed in the matters of court. Prince Aemond, on the other hand,” oh, how sweet your voice sounded when you said his name accompanied by his title “has lived his entire life here in the Red Keep. He’s been in these halls, around the lords and ladies of court, for quite a while and knows how such matters are supposed to work. I believe our knowledge combined will give us the strength, as a unity, required to rule over the realm together and establish a peaceful and prosperous reign.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you paused, your expression souring.

“And” you chuckled mirthlessly, your previously warm smile falling to a resigned one “I am a woman. The lords of the noble houses of Westeros may support my mother’s claim as they have sworn an oath to his grace, the King, but many of them are already of advanced age and may soon come to perish, some have already died even. While most of these houses are righteous and their sons and grandsons will likely honor their ancestors' wishes and support me as my mothers heir, there is no telling what will happen. They might not take kindly to yet another woman ruling over the realm, and especially one they didn’t technically agree on. So as much as I loathe to admit it, having a man by my side, supporting me as an equal, would strengthen my claim and prevent anyone from questioning me as queen.”

It made sense, all of it. Change as impactful as this tends to happen over time, not all at once, and it was known the men of the realm would not so easily accept a woman on the Iron Throne, something Aemond knew his grandsire was counting on to bring Aegon to power eventually, so it was a smart move to have a husband at your side. Your arguing was solid, and Otto Hightower seemed to agree as he reclined back on his seat, somewhat impressed.

Alicent, however, looked like she still wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“And why would you wish to marry my son?” she questioned, her tone stern.

Your smile faltered briefly, betraying your confusion.

“Why, your grace, I believe I have already explained-”

“No,” she cut you off “you’ve explained why this union would be beneficial for you as a representative of the Crown. I want to know why you wish to marry him. You could have any man in the realm, hells, there have been rumors that Cregan Stark himself has requested an audience in Dragonstone, possibly to request a courtship for your hand.” That was before anyone knew Rhaenyra planned on making you her heir and it was believed you’d inherit nothing at all, Aemond caught himself thinking “So why do you want to marry Aemond?”

That had him leaning forward in his seat. He knew, logically, this marriage stemmed from convenience. He knew he, and you as well, were mere pawns in your family’s schemes. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind your proposal. Even if it was just a political move, he would have accepted in a heartbeat but he dared to wish, no, hope that you actually wanted this, that you wanted him.

“I…” you fumbled for a moment, averting your gaze before steeling yourself, eyes locking with his mother’s once more “My uncle and I were close once, many years ago. We used to share a connection that has since been lost to time.”

You took a deep breath, as if preparing to reveal your deepest secrets to the whole family.

“I would like for us to get to know one another once more and go back to the way things were. Maybe even strengthen our bond.” you then turned to him, your eyes soft and warm and with the slightest of glimmer to them, as if you were willing yourself not to shed any tears “And I believe, with time, I could learn to love him dearly. I would love and cherish him for everything that he is, unwaveringly and unapologetically.” your lips trembled almost imperceptibly, so much so that had he not been paying close attention to you he’d have missed it “I’d be his as much as he’d be mine.”

Aemond felt his breath hitch, his heart hammering in his chest once more. He didn’t know what to think. This, right here, seemed so unreal. Deep down he knew this might just be the solution to everyone’s problems, it could be the very thing that mended the divide that had been growing inside of House Targaryen, but… could it be possible? Would his family agree?

“I believe this to be an amazing occasion.” the King spoke, looking happier than he’d been in a long while, before turning to his wife “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Alicent in turn looked to her father for answers and Aemond waited with bated breath for his response. Otto’s word was law in her eyes, Aemond knew, so he was the one who had final say in the matter. His answer came as a tiny nod and in that moment, as Aemond barely registered his mother’s next words, he had never been more grateful for his grandsire.

“I am inclined to agree that this will be a most blessed union.” Alicent said, her smile, always cold when it came to you, warming considerably.

“It’s settled then. Looks like we’ll have a wedding even sooner than expected.” Viserys then tapped his cane on the ground “Let us have some music.”

As the musicians started playing an animated melody, Aemond felt lighter than he had in years. He could hardly care for everyone around him, not even noticing anyone’s reaction to the news other than your own. With his eye focused solely on you he could see the relief settling in at his mother’s words as you beamed at him, more radiant than ever.

“Aemond, dear, why don’t you take your betrothed for a dance?”

He was out of his seat before Alicent could even finish her sentence, crossing the space between you in wide strides and extending a hand to you. You accepted gracefully. As you positioned yourselves to dance, you smiled bashfully at him, looking down at your feet, slightly embarrassed.

“I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for bringing this up all of a sudden, uncle.” you explained, looking back at him “I didn’t want to waste another moment and risk losing my chance.”

It was his turn to smile, not a smirk or a smug grin, a genuine smile.

“There is nothing to forgive, little niece.” the way he said the moniker this time, once used to mock you, was so filled with only affection and care that it almost brought tears to your eyes once again.

You danced for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then you leaned closer to him, as if wanting to share something privy to his ears alone.

“I told you once before, Aemond.” your smile turned into the tiniest of smirks “The lines don’t lie.”

His heart clenched at the memory, which seemed so distant yet so fresh in his mind. He tightened his grip around you, bringing your body even closer to his own, wanting to feel you close to him, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

“Indeed,” he whispered softly back to you, leaning his head against your own “I guess they truly don’t.”

And then everyone is happy, Rhaenyra and her family don’t leave for Dragonstone before dawn, meaning she’s there when Viserys goes to sleep forever, meaning she’s crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, meaning the Greens don’t usurp the Throne, meaning the Dance never happened, meaning no one dies and everyone lives happily ever after, hurray!

(About Daemon's behavior, he’s not mad at reader or Rhaenyra, nor does he dislike reader in any way. He’s just resentful Rhaenyra hasn’t thought nor has she offered to what she does to Aemond in this story. And as we know, when these Targaryen boys are frustrated, they tend to lash out. Hope this clarifies some things!)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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hoony2k · 2 months ago

Text

Is jake here?

Shakespeare says "tis was written in the stars before they even met"

-You're lost in life and move to Seoul where you find your peace in a boy. Jake's in a band and is looking for a girl he's been obsessed with ever since she appeared in his dream. You're both broken but maybe you can learn to be better through each other.

Pairing: Sim Jaeyun x reader

Genre: scott pilgrim au!, band au!, set in 2000s, he's kinda silly.

Cast: Sunghoon, jay, sumin (stayc)

Warning: reader smokes once :(

Word Count: 2k

Notes: this is for neo127's event! this was genuinely so fun to write, thank you for the fun event! this is actually a deleted scene that I love sm, i wanted to be so poetic but i had to stop my demons cause this is a movie with tom foolery and deep meaning. also i'm kind of stupid and saved this in drafts and not queue.

masterlist

Take 1

There was a ringing in Jake’s mind that alerted him of the dangers awaiting him, but the allure of your presence removed all prior warnings. You came into his life like a dream, filled the hollow void in his soul. None of his past attempts at experiencing euphoria or reaching infinity worked, but with you around entertaining his unfunny jokes, he was consumed by the black hole in one clean swoop.

In other terms, you were the little riff he needed in the song, the extra healing ability granted to his game characters, you were a dream. The warning, the future and the rest was history. It was only you and him in the whole universe. By your side, Jake finally felt like the world wasn’t against him.

Or so he thought.

Seven little exes, not seven little kisses.

Take 2

Jake forced his body to move. “Left right, left right”, he mumbled and mechanically trudged up the stairs, bumping into drunk partygoers without an apology. He caught a glimpse of you the other day and he prayed the next time you saw him he’d be taller and looked way cooler, not desperate or down bad at all. Hopefully, he’d find the courage to approach you in privacy. It had been ages of simply dreaming about you.

Not even the buzz of the party could get your eyes and nonchalant expression out of Jake’s mind. The thirst to reunite left him dry to the bone and in dire need of the washroom due to pure boredom sparked by the party. His drink sploshed in the red up, spilt over the rim and onto the cuff of his new jacket. He winced at the sticky and cold sensation.

At this point, he was willing to manifest you into appearing.

Jake reached the landing and felt Comeau call out to him. “Wanna drink with us?”

He shook his head and slightly pouted. “No, I don’t drink”.

Comeau frowned at him, “What do you mean you don’t drink?”

Jake offered a non-committed shrug and lightly waved his arm around.

“This is just iced coffee”.

His friend’s frown deepened. “What does that mean? I distinctively remember you being drunk-”

“Hey you know everyone, right?”, Jake swiftly brushed off the memory and swayed Comeau by the compliment. “You know this one girl with hair like this?”

His pout was replaced with a determined look and pulled out crumpled paper with a poorly sketched one-lined drawing of what appeared to be a face with no evident features or expressions. There was no possible way to understand the scribble immediately.

His friend rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know her. That’s Y/N-“

God was real. The universe loved him and perhaps this was good karma for all the okay things he had done in life. His friend continued to ramble trivia about you but it all flew over Jake’s head until he heard I heard she was going to be here tonight and it brought heat back into his veins. All it took were those mere words to become the catalyst of his insanity.

Jake dove into the crowd, and took in the sight of numerous strangers with unfamiliar hairstyles and smiles. He searched for your dyed hair in the crowd and despite unsteady breathing and shaking hands due to anticipation and nervousness, his gaze met your frame leaning on a wall. Hair pink instead of blue and you were alone holding a cup which served as a friend. You appeared bored out of your mind, glancing at the drunk bodies dancing around in bliss. Jake wondered asking you if you wanted a refill.

He slid on the dirty wallpapered wall and inch close to you. As he felt heat radiate off your body, he took it as a sign to halt. Though he tried to be subtle, his desperation to talk to you poured down his body in a giant tidal wave. Jake turned his honey eyes to your figure, it was party concealed under his locks that covered an eye. You stared right at him.

“Do you like pac man?”, the words stumbled out of his lips before he realised.

What? No-no, that’s not-

You gave him a slight nod then shifted your attention back to the crowd. Uncommitted but it did not discourage him.

He shuffled closer to you; the creases of his oversized jacket bumped into the bag strap on your shoulder. You didn't move away.

Jake cheered internally; this was going well.

Jake took it as a sign to continue. He puffed his chest out. “You know the original name for Pac-Man was Puck-Man. Not because he looks like a hockey puck. But it's Paku Paku. Means flap your mouth."

He planned on offering you a detailed history of the game, a topic that the pair of you apparently shared and enjoyed. That was before you placed your full untouched cup on a table and turned to him.

He hadn't realised you moved to look up at him.

"But they thought people would scratch out the "p" and turn it into an "f" like-"

Jake's voice died in his throat and his eyes blinked at the intensity of your gaze. You stared up at him with calm wisdom, hiding all the secrets in the world in your gaze.

He observed how there was a thin sheen of sweat on your hairline despite the cold season of decay. With so many bodies running, dancing and chatting away, the house was bound to get humid.

Jake could barely hear your voice over the thump thump of his heartbeat. The tips of your hair that clung onto the apples of your cheek moved when you spoke.

You took a step closer to him and whatever confidence he had evaporated. Jake fumbled with the end of his jacket and then promptly shoved his hands inside his pockets.

You did not look displeased at the sight, in fact, nothing changed in your eyes but Jake swore he saw a hint of a small smile. However, his fear and nerves got the best of him.

"I'm going to leave you alone forever now-"

"Wanna get out of here?"

Take 3

The sky was dark again. The winter nights crept up quickly, shunning the sun away but Jake liked it.

He liked how the night sky reminded him of you, the simple serene moments spent either in silence or secrecy.

You brought light into his life. It was dark elsewhere.

He saw a shadow of a figure dressed in several jackets a couple of feet away and only when he walked closer did he realise who it was.

"What are you doing here?", he called out to you, referring to the time.

You quirked up an unamused brow.

"Dude, I was waiting for you."

Immediately Jake felt apologetic. And maybe a bit pathetic that he came late (on time) to the hangout (unofficial official date). Or maybe he felt giddy knowing you didn't show your nervous attitude yet cared deeply enough for him to arrive on time.

"I'm sorry. I thought you assumed you were too cool to arrive on time", he confessed. It was easier with you.

He didn't have to lie about where he went like how he did whenever Sunghoon asked him about his whereabouts or skirt around in conversations where Sumin decided to target him (all for reasons that proved he deserved it).

He didn't need to pretend he was someone better, a moralistic ideal version of himself or someone worse, an edgy rockstar who had a strange code of rules to live by.

With you, Jake could be transparent. All his unpolished edges, raw mistakes and life missteps were seen and never judged.

You were like him and he was like you.

Maybe there was a reason he saw you in his dreams long before. Maybe the two of you were interconnected in a cosmic way. He didn't know.

You looked at him up and down before turning and beginning to walk near the middle of the park.

"Well, you were wrong".

Jake quickly walked beside you and fell into the same rhythm. "Do you wanna get a bite? Or watch a movie? We could get pizza before watching something. We could flip through the records I have at home".

You gently shook your head and Jake couldn't help but pout at your dismissal.

"What's wrong?" He asked, too impatient.

You sighed softly; air comes out in puffs of smoke.

You point at nearby empty swings. The chain was rustic and seems strong enough to carry two adults.

"Follow me", you whispered in the late night. There was no one around. The park was deserted, filled with snow to the brim. The swing seats squeaked when you brushed off the sleeping snow from them.

Jake sniffled, shoved his hands in his pockets once more. He didn't mind the silence until it stretched on for more than a minute, maybe...maybe it was less but Jake hated silence.

"This is nice", he shuffled and lightly kicked his feet off the ground. The metal shrieked and he swayed back and forth.

You nodded and mimicked his actions.

"This is nice".

Jake turned to look at you once more. He noticed how often he'd stare at you only to look away when you caught his gaze. There was something that had been on his mind for days. He tip toed towards the topic.

"So, why'd you come to Seoul?"

Immediately you look down at your shoes, then swing yourself higher than before.

"I wanted a change of scenery. Needed a reset and got a job here so I thought, why not?"

It was an honest reply.

The sound of gravel grabbed his attention, the metal squeaked again and you paused the pendulum to fish out an item from your pocket.

He had to squint in the minimal lighting and Jake had to hold in his surprise as you pulled out a cigarette and lit it easily.

A hand covered your lips and the tip of the cigarette, the small flame decorated the end of your nose and chin in a scarlet hue. Jake stared at you in awe, doe eyes widened.

"You smoke?", he couldn't help it. You did wonders at surprising him each time you met.

You inhaled it slowly and turned from Jake's direction to blow the air. Two fingers toyed with the cigarette.

"On special occasions". Your lips stretched a bit and Jake saw how the gloss shone under the moonlight. God, he was doomed from the start.

He didn't mind the bounce in his voice, he tiled his position and brought his swing next to yours until the metal chains halted him. The scent of slight smoke and your citrus perfume filled his senses.

It felt like he was on stage once more, guitar in his hands, flicking away at the strings with inhuman speed. He felt the high he experienced on stage; the surge of emotions that made him giddy. He tapped his foot unconsciously, imitating the vibrations the band would feel when Sumin hit her drums.

"Is this a special occasion?"

Your eyes hadn't stranded him and his lovesick expression finally pulled a laugh out of you. You were satisfied when you moved to Seoul, but the buds in your stomach began to blossom, Jake made you crave for more than satisfactory.

"I don't know. You tell me", you teased him and Jake's smile got wider. His eyes crinkled adorably and you could see the gums of his teeth with how wide he was smiling.

Then, for a split second, something flashed in his eyes, something serious. It paused your arm mid-way from bringing the cigarette to your lips.

Jake averted his gaze, his dark brown bangs covered his face from view, and you could only see the tip of his tall nose and his red ears. Perhaps from the cold, perhaps from you.

He took a deep breath.

"When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case I do them all the time."

When he finished, Jake turned to you and the poor swing squeaked once more. His face was determined, shoulders no longer hunched like usual but his eyes wavered, swam across your form to see a hint of disgust or discomfort from you.

You laughed in his face.

"Hey!", Jake shouted and it echoed in the night.

Loud laughter bubbled from your lips, you tried to hide your mouth behind your free hand but Jake quickly grabbed it so he could defend himself. Seeing how delighted you were, your entire body buzzing with giggles, Jake felt himself relax and giggle with you. Though he didn't let go of your arm.

He saw the fallen cigarette on the ground, you probably forgot about it when you began to chuckle. He leaned forward and stepped on it.

When he landed his attention on you, you were more composed but the shaking did not stop. It was a futile attempt at covering your glee, Jake was obsessed, he was probably feeling the L-word (love) as well but he wasn't sure.

Though he understood from all the times he couldn't concentrate in practice and Sunghoon or Jay would have to call his name loudly to pull him out of daydreams of you and back to reality, when Sumin stopped questioning his intentions with you and replaced her usual indifferent glares with mild fascination, Jake knew he felt something more than like for you. He felt like he was hypnotised by your melody, your casual demeanour, overflowing confidence and assured attitude. It sucked him in from the night he dreamt of you.

Jake's hand slithered down from the curve of your elbow and slipped into the warmth of your hand. Your laughter had finally ceased, now replaced with a tender look. Jake smiled like he had never done before. You interlocked your fingers together and squeezed him palm.

It would be okay, the future would be more than okay-probably. He'd still have to go to practice, get yelled at by his sister and then get yelled at other bands when Sunghoon irked them on purpose. Maybe he'd have to eventually confront your seven exes. Nothing about you was simple, everything was too intricate, it was like he had entered a game and had to win all rounds before getting crowned "official boyfriend".

But it was more than okay because Jake knew you were worth it-you liked him and he liked you. There were no mind games, this was the simplest love he had experienced. He couldn’t stop thinking of you and you couldn’t stop ringing his landline. By your side, Jake concluded that even if he wasn’t the strongest, he’d figure out a way and fight the world for you.

Thank you for reading. Please do not edit/translate

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cherryheairt · 3 months ago

Note

Hi :)

I’ve had this headcanon for a while where thranduil, upon falling in love again, makes it quite obvious he feels strongly about reader but won’t push physical limits of affection quite yet. Due to him having been married before he wants to be sure the Gods approve of him falling in love/marrying again as to not cause ill intend to fall upon reader because of him not being in control of his carnal desires. Reader is oblivious to this and pushes/teases him relentlessly.

Might end in smut upon him knowing reader is safe and he may pursue them fully or just him saying fuck it I see no god but me down here lol

Or just might end in him teasing back big time n leaving reader high and dry (but maybe with an explanation lol we love some open communication ✨)

Thank you! And feel free to mix it up and or change ending I’d just love to see a take on this 🙂‍↕️

hello! I'm so sorry that its been forever since you submitted this. thranduil is a character that we only ever got to see in super serious king mode, and had little screentime at that so I wanted to think through his personality a lot. might be ooc

I personally don't know how to write smut, so I didn't include it. I hope that's okay.

The character will be named Myria (meer-rhea), but have no skin color, body shape, hair color, etc description. She is eleven though, if that matters.

👑

The Gods had long since forsaken Thranduil. After he lost his wife, Legolas' mother, the world seemed to darken along with his own attitude. He changed, and everyone in Middle Earth knew it. Legolas never grew up to know the kind and magnanimous person his father was before his late wife's death.

To him, and the world, Thranduil was a stoic and unforgiving King.

To all, perhaps, except Myria. Myria had been born not too long after Thranduil—in Rivendell. Though the two never met until well into adulthood, Myria liked to say that they hit it off well. Thranduil would never admit the same out loud.

Myria moved from Rivendell to Mirkwood for her studies, thanks to her friend Elrond's advisory, and had since lived there for thousands of years. Youthful as ever, Myria made it her unofficial duty to occupy the King of Murkwood's free time.

She had even befriended his only son, Legolas, despite their age gap. The young elf was approaching 3000 years old soon, and he swore that he was more mature than the she-elf that graced their halls.

Myria didn't mind the head shakes or comments from royal advisors, telling her to mind herself around their King. Thranduil had long grown used to it, anyway.

Myria made her way to his royal chambers, uncaring about her unpropriety with visiting without being called upon. This was their daily routine. Thranduil had his meetings before breakfast, then went back to his chambers to dine alone. Or, he would, if Myria wasn't always waiting right there at his table for him.

"What is for breakfast today, My King?" Myria asked jovially, perched upon one of his carved wooden chairs. Originally, there had only been one for himself, but he ordered a matching one to me made after the woman's incessant visits. Before there was a seat, she simply stood at the table. The thought bothered him, a tinging in the back of his mind telling him that she must be on the same level as him, at all times.

Thranduil's long flowing sleeves and cloaks followed behind him as he entered the room. "You ask this every day, Myr. And what is my answer every day?" He asks, though there is no bite to his words.

"That you 'do not know'. Quite amusing, the all-knowing King not knowing something so simple." She mused, scrunching her nose up at his tall frame.

He fought an amused eye roll, sitting in front of her. He poured himself a chalice of sweet red wine, sipping on it as he replied. "Simple, or trivial? I do not concern myself with such affairs, the food is brought to me and I eat it."

"Careful, Thranduil. That may one day get you poisoned." She mirrored his movements, having waited for him to start drinking.

"By whom? Yourself?" He chuckled darkly, amused at the prospect of such a thing. Mirkwood elves' loyalties ran deep, the chances of him dying suddenly from a cold where higher than dying of poison. "You are the only outsider residing here."

Myria 'hmphed' vehemently, lifting her nose at the accusation. "I hardly can be called an outsider these days. How long have I lived here? Four...five thousand years?"

"Five thousand, two hundred and thirty." He answered for her.

Shocked, she stared at him, mouth agape. "You know the exact year?"

"How could I not? That is the year when my life started to get ten times harder."

She snorted, shaking her head. "I disagree. I think it only got better."

Two servants entered the chambers, one plate in hand each. Platters were lifted to reveal the neatly presented food, a light breakfast of fruit and toasted bread.

Myria and Thranduil dug into it, a pleasent chatter filling the room. "What are your plans for today?" She asked him.

"Same as usual, final preparations for the Feast of Starlight. Though, there is a task I wanted to assign you–" Thranduil was interrupted by a guard rushing into the room. He lifted an unimpressed brow, staring the guard down for his brash action.

"Your majesty, a party of rogue Dwarves have been apprehended in the Mirkwood forest!" To this, Thranduil immediately stood and strided past the guard out of the chambers. Myria, struck by the news, eagerly followed in suite.

"You are not supposed to sit in on prisoners being interrogated, Myria." Thranduil told her sternly, knowing the sound of her light steps trailed behind his own heavy ones.

"When has that stopped me before?" She laughed. It had been a nearly a hundred years since she'd seen a dwarf, and much longer than that since one had been in the depths of the Elvenking's Halls. She was excited to see what brave adventurers had come, and survived the dark forest's curse.

Thranduil seated himself at the head of his lifted throne, elegant giant antlers rooting themselves out from behind the throne like a crown. The one perched on his head mirrored that, thick branches striking in contrast to his pure white hair. Myria took a moment to admire him from her spot at the base of the stairs. The guard next to her didn't even blink at her intrusion, knowing the relationship between the ward and the King was a complex one that even the elders didn't bother to deduce.

Myria stayed silent during the precedings, not moving an inch except to lean her head forward and inspect the Dwarves. The party was quite large, a whole gaggle of Dwarves were bravely setting off to reclaim Erebor's keep and defeat the dragon nested under it. The leader, Thorin, was quite handsome for a Dwarf, not that Myria would say so aloud. For all her teasings, that would surely be the tip of the iceburg for Thranduil's patience.

As the majority of the Dwarves were escorted to the dungeons, only Thorin was left in Thranduil's audience. She listened as Thranduil made his offer, then got rejected harshly by the Dwarven King. Screamed at, being told off by a life form deemed lesser than an Elf, Thranduil had enough. He sent the man away with a flick of his wrist.

As he slowly desended the steps after the dwarf 'king' was escorted away, Thranduil placed a hand on Myrias shoulder.

The cold rings on his hand raised goosebumps on the back of her neck and arms, shivering at the feeling. She cursed herself for wearing an off-shoulder dress, dressing herself for the nice weather that morning. If he noticed, Thranduil didn't say anything. But the tiny lift to the corners of his mouth said plenty. "Do not fraternize with the filth that dirties our halls."

Our halls. The brief words pleasently rung in the back of Myria's mind. She nodded. He knew her well, guessing that she would try to sneak into the dungeons during the feast to try to speak with the curious Dwarves.

He moved his hand down, resting it gently on the small of her back. "Let us go, the feast will not oversee itself."

👑

Myria and Thranduil lounged in his chambers, simply biding time until the Feast of Starlight had begun. Admist muted chuckles and jests, mostly from Myria, Tauriel entered the room. "You called for me, My King?" She bowed shortly. "I have come to report to you." Tauriel glanced briefly towards Myria, nodding when she lifted a goblet towards her silvan friend.

"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed." Thranduil said, voice taut with frustration. The spiders had been plaguing their forest for years now, unrelenting.

"We cleared the forest as ordered, my Lord." The woman insisted. "But more spiders keep coming from nests in the South. If we could kill them at their source–"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders. Your orders are to keep our lands clear of those foul creatures. That is your task."

"And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?" Ever the bleeding heart, Tauriel worried for other people.

"Other lands are not my concern." Thranduil said coldly. "The fortunes of this land will rise and fall. But here in this kingdom, we will endure." As had been the way for thousands of years. Thranduil insisted that Mirkwood keep to themselves, not needing or offering help from any others.

Tauriel nodded stiffly, excusing herself from the King's presence. Before she left, however, he spoke again. "Legolas said you fought well today. He has grown...fond of you."

She paused, thinking his words over carefully. "I assure you my Lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than captain of the guard.

"Perhaps he did once. Now, I'm not so sure." Thranduil pushed.

"I did not think that you would allow your son to pledge himself toward a lowly silvan elf." She responded, voice slightly hopeful.

Myria leaned forward, too, curious of his answer. Would he allow his heir to love an elf with no royale blood?

"You are right, I would not." Thranduil chuckled humorlessly at the thought of it. Myria bit her tongue, hurt by the comment indirectly. She was no common-born Elf, sure, but had no royal blood to speak of either. She deflated in her seat, drinking down the rest of her wine. "Do not give him hope where there is none."

Is that what Thranduil had been doing for Myria, merely giving her hope? Slivers of special attention, with no intentions of truly loving her. She stood from her seat, leaving the chambers without a word.

Tauriel, too, left quickly after that.

Thranduil stood alone in his chambers, looking at the spot where Myria had once been.

👑

The feast came and passed quickly, Myria in no mood to sing or dance like she usual did at such events. She attended for the sake of politeness, leaving when she had greeted enough people for the night.

She spend the rest of it wallowing in her chambers.

Word got out that the entire party of Dwarves escaped, and Myria silently applauded them for their boldness. She hoped, for their sake, that they were successful in freeing their home.

Days passed, and news of Smaug's death had spread to every corner of Middle Earth. Thranduil was quick to organize his army to march toward Erebor, wasting no time to retrieve his precious gems. Myria had come along on her own white elk mount, following behind Thranduil silently, if only to satiate her curiosity. Last time they had come, Thranduil had rejected the Dwarves' desperate plea for help. This time, he came to declare war if they refused to return his gems.

The damned gems. Always on his mind. True, they were a physical reminder of his late wife and Queen. But it seemed as though he dwelled on them more than he cherished her memory. He did not speak of her, ever. Even to his own son, his wife was but a ghost haunting the halls.

Myria couldn't begin to understand the loss of a spouse, but she did understand that he was too caught up in himself.

Even though she had little intention of fighting the Dwarves, Myria still brought a dagger and bow on the march. Could never be too careful, Thranduil always reminded her. She guided her elk to stand behind his, watching him greet the human leader stiffly. It was almost laughable how mad his manners were, his kingly presence deemed to good for polite small talk.

Myria had been given a temporary quarter near Thranduil's, their tents close as they usually were. He had been too busy to notice her absence lately, both to her joy and displeasure. She missed his daily warmth around her, but knew it was best to distance himself from him. Just this last journey, then she sould go back to Rivendell to live out the rest of her long and lonesome life.

Thranduil plotted with the human leader, Bard, and a wizard by the name of Gandalf. Myria wandered the decrepit town while they did, having no place in war council, nor did she wish to.

By the time she had returned, night had fallen and all the humans of the town were asleep. Myria ducked into her tent, desperate for some solid rest before a potential battle on the morrow. She was surprised to see Thranduil sitting awkwardyl on her cot.

"Thranduil? What are you doing here, you should be resting." Myria insisted, brow furrowed.He stood at her entrance, possibly being left waiting for quite a while.

"I wished to see you before we go to Erebor's gates in the morning. I suspect that the Dwarf will have something up his tiny sleeve. I know you are a capable fighter, but I want you to stay in town tomorrow just in case."

She protested sharply, "I am just as much a fighter as any elf in your army. I will not sit around and wait for you to return–"

"Please, Myria." He rested both of his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her with his deep blue eyes "I could not focus if I knew you were behind me somewhere. If I know you are safe, I can retrieve the jewels easier." Always about the jewels. He should have married them, she thought bitterly.

"Is that an order?"

"It is a request. From a friend." Thranduil said softly.

Myria bit her cheek, crossing her arms. "Fine. I will stay here on the morrow. But, if any fighting breaks out, I will join."

He seemed content with her answer, knowing its as far as he'll get with her stubbornness. "Very well, I'll see you when this is over." He planted a tender kiss to the top of her head before he left to his own tent.

👑

Myria could only watch from afar as negotiations with the Dwarves had clearly gone to shit. More dwarves had shown up, an entire army to match the Elves' golden one. Myria rushed back to grab her bow, bursting out of her tent to the sound of screams in the town. Surely the Dwarves wouldn't target the women and children who had stayed behind?

She was right. It was orcs who had invaded the town, cutting off exits as they slashed through defenseless crowds of people. Myria rushed to help whoever she could, shooting down orcs' fat heads whenever they got too close to a fleeing human. With her dagger, she slashed through whoever she could reach to retrieve each of her arrows.

This arduous process repeated for some time, Myria panting with effort as she continued. The sounds of screams toned done as golden-armored soldiers flooded into the cobble streets and started to push back at the beastly creatins. Myria breathed a sigh of relief, engaging another orc. It was larger than most, with armor protecting its head and chest. She slashed at his with a sword she had taken from dead enemy, yelping when he stabbed into her abdomen with his own weapon. She gasped, trying to keep her composure as he approached above her menacingly. As he lifted his sword above his head again, ready to strike down the Elf, his head was detached from his body in a spray of hot blood.

Myria flinched at the feeling on her skin, feeling disgusted more than she already was with the sweat and dirt covering her. Thranduil came from behind the orc, who was now dead on the floor. He crouched down in front of her, a frantic look in his eye that betrayed his regal appearance. "Myria, look at me!" He shouted, her blurry vision shakily focusing on him. He held her face in his hands, watching her try to keep them open. "It's okay, I'll get you help." Thranduil promised her, gingerly lifting her up princess style. He flinched when she protested in pain, clutching at her stomach to stop the blood from gushing out.

"It's okay, you'll be alright, sweet." He told her, repeating himself multiple times as if to convince himself, too.

He brought her outside of the town, where Elven medics had set up a discreet few tents disguised to the orc's vision by Elven magic. The King layed her gently on a stiff cot, petting her hair comfortingly as she screamed in pain at the medic disinfecting and stitching her wound up. He glared at the Elf assigned to help her, making the poor young fellow sweat in fear of messing uo in front of his King.

Eventually, the sounds outside died out. Thranduil regretted taking his forces to this pit of death. He had lost more Elves today than had ever been lost at one time since the Great War. Elves did not die easily. This was a massacre of great damage to their ranks, to their people. Thranduil mourned the deaths of his kin dearly.

Myria had calmed, pain dulling when given some numbing herbs. She focused her attention on Thranduil, "you came for me." She said, voice barely a whisper.

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Your gems...they're still locked away in the keep, aren't they?" She asked.

"The gems are not my priority. They are merely objects, remembrances. You are alive, I need you."

Myria felt tears blurr her vision, clamping her throat shut. "But–I am not from any important bloodline. I am not a Princess, nor—"

"I do not care. You are Myria. The woman who has been by my side for five thousand years. The only lady worthy of being Queen by my side is you."

Thranduil took her into his arms as she cried. He shushed her gently, hands locked into her hair as she clung to him.

"I love you, Thranduil. I have for a long, long time."

"And I, you, my dearest Myr."

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #lotr #the hobbit

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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— skeletons + sae itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — sae doesn’t realise how much being away from home affects him, until he hears your voice again.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, angst, hurt no comfort, long-distance, established relationship, mentions of mental health, pro player!sae, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2K.

⭑ notes — hi beautiful babies!! this is the first of a few fics i have queued for my week away. i wrote this a while ago and it’s based off of skeletons by keshi !! hope you like <3 - m.list ✩

in all honesty, sae itoshi doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s way too late for you, just breaching the early house of the next morning in japan. there’s a seven hour difference between madrid and tokyo, sae knows because he’s looked it up a million times before anticipating a call or text from you. and right now, you’re probably sleeping, you’re supposed to have been sleeping.

but alas, your phone rings and you pick up on the third— voice groggy over the comforting crackle of static on the line. “h…hello?”

for a moment, the older itoshi brother listens to you and your natural ambience. he notes your deep breathing, still recovering from the depths of sleep, and the slight whines you let out with your yawns as you stretch your stiff muscles. maybe it’s weird, but sae misses all of your sounds, he misses waking up next to them— curling his arm around your waist on nights you’d snuck over to his childhood home just to see him.

“is anyone there?”

snapping out of it, sae clears his throat— fixing his voice as it sits hoarse in its base before he speaks. “it’s me, love.”

“sae!” shifting from the sheets tells sae that you’re more awake now— alerted by the symphony of his voice over the shitty landline. “shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“could say the same for you, it’s four am over there.” he knows that he’s wrong, you’re seven hours ahead and it’s only ten pm for him — meaning it’ll be closer to five am where you are and sae itoshi is never wrong. he was born with impressive gut instinct and a quick mind but this time he’s wrong on purpose. he makes a mistake because he wants to stall for time, keep you talking a little longer and hear your voice for a few minutes more…because maybe that’ll keep the demons away.

keep his head floating above the water he seems to have fallen in.

sae is drowning in his dreams, and if he reaches out he can’t touch them— to him, the greatest of all time…they’re unattainable.

“five actually, and my alarm is meant to go off soon. i thought you were it and then i saw your contact…” you manage to say through a yawn, rubbing your eye’s unbeknownst to your boyfriend since he’s halfway across the globe. if he could see, if he was there—he’d probably call you cute, wipe your eyes for you and force you back down to sleep. but he’s not here and he can’t see because there’s a distance between you that can only be fixed by grainy face times on your cells.

“i wanted to call.” the midfielder clarifies, cutting you off sharply but his words coat the inside of his mouth like cotton, as if they’re hard to say — melting over the line like rice paper on his tongue.

“okay,” breathing slow, you hug your knees to your chest and let your silence tangle with the crackling static. “you don’t usually call first.”

“i needed to hear your voice.”

“i’m here. i miss you. do you want to switch to facetime?” sae has half a mind to tell you no. if you switch now, you’d worry— you’d see how hollow he’s become, how sleep deprivation eats at the pink tinge to his flesh and clings to the undersides of his dulling aquamarine eyes. you might think that he’s dying and perhaps he is. the pro player feels like he is. every day is harder, his bones feel heavier and his muscles weaker — he needs medicine. he needs you.

you’re the only drug sae would ever inject into his veins— your smile, your laugh, your heart. they make him better, make him feel alive. so he relents, “gimme a sec, i’ll call you.” he grunts and taps the button to video-call, waiting for you to pick up again.

“there you are, handsome. tell me about your day.” blue light from the early morning filters over your skin— the footage of the FaceTime call is grainy, probably because it’s still a little bit dark outside for you but you’re beautiful. to sae you’ve always been beautiful.

the elder itoshi brother makes a small effort to smile at your compliment, the expression blooming on his cheeks which you mirror, happy to see him — he misses you too. “i don’t wanna talk about it. you do the talking. i just want to listen to you.”

“alright well�� i worked today— yesterday. sorry! timezones,” you miss the way sae winces at the mention of your time difference, the invisible divide between you both, as you settle back into your bed to admire him. “my shift sort of sucked, you know how it goes.” your boyfriend listens to you intently, makes faces at the complaints you make about customers, clients and coworkers alike.

sometimes, the midfielder doesn’t understand you how you devote your life’s work, your beauty and intelligence to an industry that chews you up, spits you out like dirt and drives you to the edge of falling to pieces. sae doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you’re talented and wishes you saw the same value in yourself that he did.

you deserve better. so much better.

perhaps he’s the same as you, working for someone else until he breaks and he’s better than everyone else— all in the name of becoming the best in the world.

“you hate your job. quit. i earn enough money to take care of you.”

“and you hate yours. but you won’t come home where i can take care of you.”

sae rolls his eyes at your quip because of how easy it is for you to read him despite the way he hides his emotions behind a clay mask. he’s always been like that, but he feels the need to tuck away the uglier parts from him even more of late— even if you’ve seen it all before. the late nights where he’s feeling sad and goes to bed, sae wakes up feeling even worse. especially without you but even now with your face on a screen, beaming at him the same way you have all your life— he doesn’t feel any better.

you’re meant to be his solace.

quickly changing the subject, sae nods his head as if to push you in a different conversational direction. “tell me about what you did after work.”

you hesitate, peering into his ocean eyes for a split second. “i went to see rin at blue lock. he’s…he’s doing really well, you know. you should come see him sometime. you’d be proud of how far he’s come since we were little.”

it’s not that he doesn’t care about his younger brother, but the relationship between rin and sae itoshi is probably long past any attempts at repair. you’ve been stuck in the middle for as long as you’ve known them— pulling them close despite the boys repelling each other like polar magnets.

you were the glue when they were kids, keeping the three of you together and to this day you still tried to manage the gap between the two brothers, despite their disputes. their differences.“can we please not talk about that half-ass piece of—“ you glare over the phone from across the globe and sae silences himself, pursing his lips to avoid scrutiny from the love of his life. you.

“you know, you never told me what happened when you first came home from Spain.” you blurt after a moment's quiet. “but i think i’ve always sorta known.”

“yeah?” the magenta haired midfielder challenges, brushing a hand over his tired face.

“yeah…” nodding subtly, you shift and roll onto your side— a solemn expression dancing across your features. “you changed. you hurt him, sae, real bad. rin changed too.” you say hoarsely, as if the words you’ve uttered burn at the insides of your throat like bitter liquor. “you’ve not shown that same fate to me, you know better than to lash out at me. but you’re different. you don’t smile anymore. not with your eyes like you used to — i miss that.” i miss you. is what you really want to say. not just physically, but emotionally. you want your boyfriend back, not the empty shell of skin and bones you have now.

even sae picks up on the hidden meaning behind your words— he doesn’t smile at you like he used to.

for once the eldest itoshi decides to be honest with you. he thinks to tell you how stressed out he is, how he’s scared his plan for this soccer thing might not even work out. he decides to be honest in words that he knows best and not all the details because he doesn’t want you to break over him.

“talk to me, itoshi.” you cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter.

“i’m afraid of myself, and i hate it.”

“then come home, sae.” it’s a nice offer, a tempting bribe. to be home with you when sae knows that would be the closest thing to giving up. he knew you wouldn’t get it. you wouldn’t understand how much soccer meant to him but you can’t be blamed for that. the thing you love most in the world isn’t your career— it’s him. “come home and be with me.”

your wish would be as selfish as his — you don’t want him to give up soccer for you and he doesn’t want to leave soccer to feel better with you like he knows he would.

“i need to make it to the end of the season — i have to.”

“sae, you’re tired. you look like a ghost.”

“i don’t even know if i’m going to make it.” he snaps, desperate and pleading with you not to make this more difficult than it already is. “but if i don’t try. then all of this will be for nothing. my goals have changed, but i worked hard for this and i will get what i want.” he spits out as if there’s acid on his tongue, burning through the little solace of love you’ve tried to wrap him up in. sae runs a hand through his silken locks, sighing as he briefly looks away from your crumpled face on the screen. “so stop asking me to come home for you because i won’t. it’s not worth it. you’re not worth it.”

you gasp, tears flooding your eyes. you know he doesn’t mean it, or maybe he does — it’s been difficult to read sae recently, he’s slipping from your grasp like sand between your fingers and you just have to let him. another beat of silence echoes between you both — but neither of you make the effort to speak. sae doesn’t correct himself and you don’t force your hand to make him apologise.

you care enough for him not to make him fight— to make sae choose his own battles. you’d never ask him to pick soccer over you, because you know what his answer would be regardless… but that doesn’t mean it hurts you any less to watch him destroy himself for it and to lose the boy you grew up loving to a sport you may never understand.

though, that doesn’t stop you from lashing out and bearing your own fangs either — if he was going to throw salt in your wounds, you could do that too.

“i have to go, itoshi. get some rest, you look like shit, but you that’s what you want, right? it’s worth it to you.”

you hang up before he can say a word and sae can’t bring himself to message and apologise. because he knows that you’re right, you’re telling him to pick soccer because he can’t make that choice for himself.

sae itoshi is a pro player now. he’s gotten what he’s always wanted — he’s achieving his dreams as the corpse of the man he once was. the one who loved you proper.

but that doesn’t matter anymore, whatever his team wants out of him they get.

since his skeleton’s out for the taking.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi imagines #sae itoshi angst #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk angst #blue lock angst #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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dollwrites · 1 year ago

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!demon!reader, airhead!reader ( rono takes advantage of that ), stuck porn, compromising positions, reader is suspended mid air, :3 sensitive horns, mentions of rono’s bondage ( ball gag / bound hands ), thigh fucking, suggested free use post fic, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹’𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ doll’s choice [ ronové + stuck ]

you were starting to think Ronové wasn’t really trying to help you.

he’d been so sympathetic to your plight when he first found you; the dainty, little chain that tethers your horns together tangled in the chandelier you’d been helping Glasyalabolas hang in one of the halls. of course, when you’d gotten stuck, Glas had simply laughed, and even went so far as to kick your step stool out from under you, and you’d been left, dangling by your delicate, little horns ever since, feet hovering just above the marble floor.

when Ronové happened to come across you, he’d crooned as he approached. an absolute mountain of a devil, you were grateful he’d been the one to find you in such a state. no doubt, even with his arms bound the way they were, he would have no trouble lifting you up until your horns were freed. “Aw, haha.” perhaps you didn’t notice the wicked intent in his dark chuckle as he approached, running his leather-bound forearms over your body as he seemed to take in your predicament. “You poor thing. You need some help getting down, so you?” you’d been certain that must’ve meant he was going to help you, so you nodded in desperation, smiling in relief. the pressure on your horns would be lifted soon. you wouldn’t be stuck like this anymore.

but now, as you stared down, watching Ronové’s cock slide back and forth in between your thighs, you weren’t so sure he was really going to free you. “Rono…” you whine soft, nibbling on your lip. “Are you still going to help me?”

“Mhm,” Ronové growls more than answers, a subtle bubbling in his throat as he drags his face against your shoulder. the ball gag in his mouth is wet with spit, as if taking advantage of you in such a state has made him foam with lust and depravity. “But… a beautiful, little devil all wrapped up like this? Well, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of your predicament. Now, keep those soft thighs clenched so I can fuck them.” his voice is always just a little bit altered by the crimson obstruction that his sharp canines bite into, but it was astounding how he’d adapted, and was able to form sentences, you thought.

the tip of his cock was swollen and pink as he rammed it into the fleshy, supple seal of your thighs as you tighten your muscles, obediently. you whimpered, feeling the rugged veins that spiderwebbed his manhood rub against your flimsy panties beneath your skirt. in a way, Ronové was a superior devil to you. a much stronger one, at the very least, so resisting him would be impossible.

the way his moans rumble against the gag in his mouth when he gets closer. “Good girl, just like that. Tighten those muscles for me.” as he purrs to you in praise, he smears his face over your shoulder, leaving a sticky, shiny layer of drool from his constant slobbering over the gag. “Ah, make it feel just like a nice, warm cunt and maybe I won’t have to rip those wet panties off and pound you out.” as if to exaggerate his threat, both of his arms, swaddled in leather, hook around your waist and gives your body a firm tug downwards, to force you to perch on his cock as he rams it between your thighs as they get stickier and stickier from his smearing of precum. you yelp, feeling the chains pull on your horns. the hundreds of nerve endings located there screaming with the intensity of his display. but you mewl, too. you can’t help it. his cock is snuggled flush against your panties, thrusting between your thighs at a rapid-fire pace, and you feel stimulated from the tip of your horns all the way to your throbbing clit, electrified. though your feet were falling asleep from dangling there, helpless, you didn’t even bother to think about them. your hands clenched into tight fists, your eyelids flutter, and Ronové chuckles, hoarsely. “What pretty, distressed sounds this silly little devil can make. You’re going to make me cum, just like this…”

panting, you try to turn to look over your shoulder, “A-and then you’ll get me down?”

Ronové laughs, hoarsely. “What gave you that idea?”

“Y— you said you’d help me!” you cried, baffled by his seemingly sudden change of plans.

“Oh I will help, don’t you worry,” he explains, though you can hear the grinding of his teeth against the gag as he snorts in pleasure through his nostrils. “Once I’m done with you, I’ll be sure to tell the first devil I come across that you’re all tied up in here. I’m sure that after you’re used to your limit by however many more come across you, someone will get you down, sweetheart.”

#ronové #ronove x reader #ronove x you #whb ronove #what in hell is bad x reader #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad x you #wihib #ronove #wihib x reader #wihib x you #wihib smut

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itsmewillful · 5 months ago

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I will Always Find You

Main Masterlist

Character Masterlist:

(Vox x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5782 (i got too carried away)

Outline: You, the wife of the infamous media overlord Vox, falls from Heaven and you find yourself in a chaotic new world. You meet the Hazbin Hotel crew, but most of all, you met him. Your long lost love.

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, language, etcetera.

A/N: Heyy guys, I totally was not gone for an entire year. . .but, I'm done with High School now so I will probably start posting a little bit more often. . .*no promises though. my memory is absolute garbage*

Also, why am I obsessed with a TV?

Story below the cut:

Heaven.

The place all virtuous and 'perfect' people ascend to after living the life every good person is meant.

You don't even know how you got here. You always thought that you would go to Hell. (Not to put it lightly) Perhaps it was because you were widowed at a rather young age. Perhaps it was because you were murdered by your late husband's arch rival. Or maybe, it was a bit of all.

Your life on earth wasn't bad per se. In fact, you had a very happy life. You got married at the fruitful age of 20, to your best friend, and lived in a very comfortable home. Your husband, Vincent Holland, was a big-time news reporter in your hometown.

But, why was it in Heaven that almost all your memories regarding Vincent were blurry? As if someone with significant power was preventing you from reminiscing on your past life?

You could barely remember his face; his award winning smile. His sapphire blue eyes, and his dark hair.

You hated this.

You couldn't even remember how long ago you died.

Hell, you couldn't even remember how you died. Just that you were murdered one day and your body was left to rot in a random alley.

A hand waving in front of your face interrupted your sad train of thoughts, and your attention immediately shifted back to your friend. Or acquaintance, you weren't exactly sure where your friendship status lay.

"You alright there, partner?"

You sighed slowly and nodded your head in affirmation. You weren't sure if you were doing it to convince them that you were okay, or yourself.

"I'm alright, Kai, just a bit tired ," you mumbled pathetically. Kai was a very beautiful shark-like angel. You met them some time ago and instantly clicked with one another. But, Kai was one of those people that had a tendency of gossiping with their girlfriend Molly. And you were never comfortable sharing anything beyond your life in Heaven.

Which was a pity because you were sure if you shared it, you wouldn't feel so fucking stressed out.

The shark angel let out a small laugh and gently patted your head.

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say m'lady. You know if there's anything bothering you, you could always talk to me or Molly, right?"

You again nodded your head, even though you probably would never take up the offer.

"Hey you guys! How are you both doing?"

Speak of the devil and he shalt appear.

"Hey Molly! I see you're finally off of work?"

"Yup! And I brought a treat for you both!" Molly said in a sing-song tone of voice. Kai smiled with a nearly evil-like grin and made grabby hands at their girlfriend.

"Gimme, I can smell the baked goods!"

You chuckled at Kai's antics and stood up from the chair you were sitting in. Kai raised a brow at you and you motioned with your hand that you were going to get another drink. You picked up your now empty whisky bottle and began to head over to the bar where you and Kai find yourselves frequently whenever you both have had a long day at work.

The bartender, Mr Smiles (as Molly so lovingly named him) greeted you with a very drunken smirk when you arrived at your favourite destination.

"Hello there, Mrs. Holland. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You rolled your eyes and sat down on one of the barstools, placing your cup down and sliding it over to the bartender.

"Another, please." you said simply. Mr. Smiles blinked at you before grabbing your cup and pouring more of the golden liquid into it.

"The 'Another' for the lady." he said cheekily, to which you giggled. You snatched the cup up from the table and practically downed the strong liquid and forced back a gag when it burned your throat. The bartender chuckled at your silliness and leaned over the bar so you could hear each other better over the loud chatter of the Cloud Nine bar. (You and Kai always found the name of the bar to be hilarious)

"So, you never drink this much unless you have something to spill. Need to talk about something sweetheart?" he asked with a patient tone of voice.

You sighed dramatically and leaned back against your chair, deep in thought.

"I just. . ." you trailed off in thought before sighing again in annoyance at your capability of explaining your biggest problem.

"You just?" he tried to urge you to continue, but was rudely interrupted when a flock of angels came bursting into the room.

"His Holiness, Archangel Michael needs to discuss important matters in Town Square. Everyone present is required to make an audience immediately."

Murmurs began to fill the room in confusion of the sudden announcement. You raised your brow at the bartender, quietly asking him if he knew what all the commotion was about. He shrugged before continuing on with putting the remaining glasses away.

"Hey, partner, we need to head out to Town Square." Kai said, putting a webbed hand onto your shoulder. You nodded and stood up, following close behind your two buddies. Molly, like always, had a small hop to her step as if she was always happy and excited about things. Her partner smiled at her giddiness and soon began to also skip along with her.

Oh, how much you missed being able to have someone to be close with. And once again, your thoughts began to turn back to your late husband, Vincent.

You missed him so much.

And you were fully aware that your beloved Vincent was in Hell. The place you were also sure to go to when you kicked the bucket. But alas, here you are, in the city of silver and gold.

You stopped abruptly when you reached Town Square and noticed how big of a crowd was already there. Thousands of angels and souls alike, all stood cramped up around a huge balcony that belonged to Archangel Palace.

The chatter began to quiet down when the all-loved Archangel Michael stepped up to the balcony and waved to the crowd to silence their speech.

Kai bent over to you and whispered about how interesting things were going to get. You didn't respond, but instead gasped when a photo got projected onto the side of one of the Palace's huge spires. It was a really bloody scene: demonic-like creatures were sprawled all over the ground, torn to shreds from what you could tell. What made you feel faint, however, was the carcuses of angels. What the fuck were angels doing in Hell?

It seemed that a lot of other people were questioning the same exact thing, and Michael, once again announced order from the crowd and the only sound remaining were the hushed whispers.

"It has come to my knowledge that a secret organisation has been founded without my permission. Adam, the first man, and Sera, have been discovered sending down angels every year to kill them." He stopped mid explanation and waved his hand over to an angel that stood close to him. A scroll was placed into Michael's hands, and he unscrolled it and began to read whatever was written onto it.

"According to the words of Sera: Hell has become too overpopulated, and a risk of war could arise. Exterminations have been a necessity, and is, therefore required to keep balance between Good, and Evil." Michael immediately crumpled up the scroll, and threw it back at the poor angel that was beside him to catch.

"This is all tyranny, of course. Me and the Council did not agree to such lunacy, which is why, we are going to have a public vote as to whether or not Sera should be ex-communicated from Heaven."

A loud gasp came from the crowd.

Especially from Molly, who also seemed to begin to tear up.

"That means she'll be thrown to Hell!" she choked back a sob in surprise. Kai patted their girlfriends back to try and sooth her large and soft heart.

You, however, were enraged from the idea of angels going down and killing people. Your beloved Vincent was down there. What if he was killed?!

And like always, your spiral of thoughts was interrupted when Michael began to speak again.

"Just to be absolutely clear, this is never to be discussed with anyone ever again. After the vote is casted, anyone caught discussing this topic will immediately be casted from Paradise, and into the pits of Hell for treachery. I cannot be clear enough."

Murmurs filled the Square as everyone agreed to Michael's proposal.

"Great! Well, everyone better head off to vote now! Have a great day everyone." And like that, he vanished in a cloud of golden smoke.

You didn't realise your jaw was hanging open until Kai mentioned that you looked like a venus-fly trap waiting for a bug to land in your mouth. You clamped it shut instantly and glared at them.

"Chill! It was just supposed to be a joke!" They huffed in faux offence. Molly giggled at her partner's antics, and gently rubbed her fingers in between Kai's fins that decorated their body.

"Calm down, love. We need to head to a voting booth so we can cast votes. I know what I'm voting for."

"Yeah, I can't believe such a thing was happening behind our backs! Who knows how long it has been going on?"

Molly sighed and rubbed her fuzzy face for comfort.

"I don't know, but I hope it wasn't for too long. I believe some of my family is down there."

"Yikes, that's tough. I'm sorry for that." Kai said with sympathy laced in their voice.

You blinked back tears that were forming in your eyes. You would not cry over the possibility that your Vincent was double-dead.

You were strong.

+++

You sighed heavily when you arrived at your small apartment later that evening.

"What a rotten day," you mumbled to yourself. As if on command, your pet land-shark Vark came running into the foyer. You smiled instantly and picked up the little creature and began to pet him between his eyes.

You and Vincent loved sharks. It was a shared passion you both had that made you best friends instantly. When you first got married, you both always joked of getting a shark and naming it Vark.

Well, you had the shark, just not Vincent.

You were thinking about him again, and it was making you feel bad once more.

Why couldn't you remember some things? Who or what was making you forget?

You placed Vark back onto the ground, who of course, whined with the lack of affection from your part. You stepped over the land-shark and headed over to your balcony, that had a perfect view of the Embassy of Heaven. The place you go to whenever you have questions regarding the after-life and anything else.

Maybe there you would find answers.

With a new destination in mind, you grabbed Vark's leash and hooked him up to it. Vark began to wag his tail (well, his fin) in excitement about where you would be taking him. You smiled again at your pet's adorable-ness and began to head back outside once more.

The streets of Heaven were very peaceful. Just about no soul was out and about. It made sense since it was rather late. Around eleven o'clock actually.

Soon, the golden pillars of the Embassy came into view, and you let out a sigh when you realised it was still open. You approached the heavy double doors and swallowed back a scream when they opened up automatically. Vark found it hilarious however, when you just about died a second time from a mini heart attack.

You huffed at your shark and headed inside the golden-themed building and found that it was practically empty. I mean-duh it was empty, it was basically in the middle of the night.

A Cherub, from the looks of it, approached you and gave you a rather judgmental look over.

"Honey, I'm sorry to say this but no pets are allowed." the Cherub said with an irritating tone of voice.

You stared at the flying goat-creature and rolled your eyes.

"Vark, is a service pet. I am afraid you can't throw him out." you lied with a fake smile. One thing that Vincent taught you to do well, was fake things. You were especially good at putting on a fake show. One of the things that, once again, surprised you that Heaven looked over.

Wasn't lying a big sin?

The Cherub interrupted your thoughts when she cleared her throat rather obnoxiously.

"Alright honey. Whatever you say. To what do I owe the pleasure of assisting you with this evening?"

"Oh, well. . .I am not so sure how to explain it." you answered truthfully; slightly cringing at your lack of effort of just telling her.

The Cherub pulled out a clipboard from thin air you assumed (since she most certainly wasn't holding one earlier) and began to scribble something onto it.

"Well, Mr. Heart will be able to assist you with whatever, 'complicated' issue you have got going on." She handed you a piece of paper that had practically illegible handwriting on it, and pointed to a corridor that led to a couple of office rooms.

"Hope you find what you need, honey. Good night." and like that, she sauntered off to what you assumed to be her office. What a weird person, you thought with a click of your tongue.

You began your tread to Mr. Heart's office, and stopped when you reached the door. You lifted your hand to knock but stopped when the door was flung open and a rather energetic angel stepped out of the room.

"Hey there! You must be one of the 'poor souls' Chili sent to me! Come on in!" he moved aside and held a hand out for you to shake, to which he practically tore off yours when he shook it rather rigorously.

"The name is Heart! What's yours m'lady?"

You mumbled your name back and he let out a very loud laugh.

"Why, Mrs. Holland! Quite the pleasure to be meeting you!"

You nodded your head and held back a gasp when he pulled you by the hand into the office.

"So, tell me what has troubled you enough to venture here so late in the night?"

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but clamped it down when you couldn't find the right words to say. Damn it, you were nervous. You couldn't, however, pinpoint if it was from the very very close proximity of the Angel, or the lack of knowledge of how to explain your memories being jumbled up.

You could begin by telling the angel to take a few hundred steps back.

"Sorry, but um, could you step back a bit?" You asked with a shaky breath. The Angel smiled with pearly white teeth, but didn't seem to move an inch.

"I can't hear you clearly if I am too far back. It is best if I stay here." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. (or Heaven)

You nodded, even though you doubt that was the truth. You mentally noted to never come back here again once you're down getting some answers.

"So, I have a question." You began.

"Everyone that comes here has questions. But I can't exactly be sure that your question is legal to answer or not."

Your eyes widened in curiosity. Some questions could be illegal to ask? Flashbacks from today's event clouded your thoughts, but you immediately shook them away. A traitor is how you would be viewed if you discussed with anyone about today. And you would be quite foolish to bring it up with an official member of the Council.

"So, you were saying, Mrs. Holland?"

"Why am I not able to remember some things about my life on Earth?" You may as well pull off the bandage and stop dancing around the bush in fear of being judged. Your worries worsened when the Angel's eyes seemed to darken a little.

"Whatever do you mean, darling? What memories?"

"That is the whole point! I know that I can't remember some things! I just don't know what." frustration was very clear in your voice at this point.

Mr. Heart laughed wholeheartedly as if your 'situation' was the funniest thing anyone has ever told him.

"Well my dear, no need to get all fierce with me! I only want to assist you. And it seems that you are treading on very dangerous waters. I would watch out if I were you."

You swear your eyes became fire. How dare he act as if your troubles were something scandalous! Vark began to lick your leg as an attempt to calm you down, which worked for a moment until the 'ever lovable' Mr. Heart reached a hand out and began to rub your shoulders as if he had any right to touch you.

Vark, being the wonderful pet he is, noticed this and bit his leg. The angel howled in pain and kicked your beloved baby and he began to wail in pain. At this point, all you saw was red as you lunged onto the man and began to beat him up with what some people would call a 'mother's fiery.'

Some raised voices from outside of the office eventually joined the chaos of the room, and you were dragged off the very-much battered up Mr. Heart. Well, Mr. Heartless to you.

"Mrs. Holland! How dare you strike a Seraphim! That is considered treachery to the Hierarchy of the Council!" the same Cherub from earlier screeched at you in a high-pitched tone.

"Well I'll be damned! He touched me without consent and kicked my pet! I was defending myself-"

"You lie! One sin after another! How could you!?" you felt yourself being picked up from two service angels, and being dragged to another room, your shark following you right behind.

"Where are you taking me?" You shouted, attempting to pull off the two angels that were holding you roughly.

"We're not taking you anywhere. You are going to be sent somewhere." the Cherub said with a malicious tone of voice. You bit back a sob when the words processed in your head.

They were going to send you to Hell

You eventually approached a door that read 'Employees Only' and met a room that had an arch that took up the entire floor.

The portal to Hell. The place they were going to toss you into for something utterly stupid. How hypocritical of them. Heaven, the place of love and peace? My ass!

The Cherub flew over to a panel on the side of the wall, and loud sirens were heard throughout the room. Hell, you bet the entire 'cloud kingdom' could hear the loud blaring the room was making.

A red coloured portal began to appear on the ground within the structure of the arch. You gulped and felt tears begin to dwell in your eyes.

This was it.

Good-bye Heaven. Good-bye Kai and Molly.

You could hear Vark wailing from the loud noises and you attempted at twisting around to look at him. Your last attempt at begging for your shark's mercy was cut off when you were tossed into the portal.

You fell for a moment.

Then everything went dark.

+++

What awoke you from your 'dreamless sleep' was the feeling of something wet being dragged across your face. You moaned in pain when everything came crashing down on you. Literally.

Your back hurts, your head hurts, hell, even your face hurts.

You opened your eyes and noticed your beloved land-shark was on top of you, licking your face. You didn't feel anything but pure joy at that moment when you realised your shark wasn't going to be left all alone up in Heaven.

"My baby! I thought I wouldn't see you again!" you cried aloud and clutched the shark tightly against your chest. Vark seemed to love the attention and began to get all giddy from your loving embrace.

You pulled away from him after a few minutes, and began to observe the scenery around you. You appeared to be in some sort of alleyway, noting that there was garbage and other things that you didn't care to find out what it was exactly. You stood up slowly, and nearly fell back to the ground when you felt your knees shake.

Damn, you fell hard.

(Not as hard as you fell for Vincent though)

Vark noticed that you were in pain, and began to lick you again as a way of comforting you. You smiled softly and patted his smooth head in reassurance that you would be alright. Vark got the memo, and jumped from your arms. You attempted to stand again, and lent against the wall for support.

"Vark, I need you to do me a small favour." You said with a small voice. Vark wagged his fin and his tongue poked out of his mouth in anticipation for what your next words would be.

"Can you go up ahead and see if there is anyone that can help me? I don't think I'm going to be able to get around."

Vark tilted his head to the side in slight confusion to your words, to which you sighed heavily.

"I'm hurt Vark. I need help." You said a bit more simply. Vark recognised the phrase from when you trained him years ago, and immediately ran around the corner of the alleyway in search of some suitable help.

Who are you kidding? This is Hell. Why would anyone want to help? You sighed and placed your fingers on the bridge of your nose to attempt to relieve some stress that was building up.

What a rotten day.

+++

Minutes turned into hours, and you began to grow weary that something had happened to Vark. That is until you heard the familiar pat pat of Vark's fins.

You looked up from the corner you were hiding in, and noticed a very tall demoness was approaching you with Vark and-was that Molly?

"Oh my gosh! Are you alright?!" The demoness exclaimed with pure worry in her tone. You smiled weakly and shook your head.

"No, I-I'm sorry if I'm a bit of an inconvenience. You see, I was kinda kicked out of Heaven? And I'm injured from falling. . ." You babbled on. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought.

The demoness held a sympathetic gaze in her eyes, and she looked over to her companion who was observing you as if you were an anomaly.

"Wait, you're from Heaven?"

You nodded your head, and the fellow seemed to get all smiley. Why? Who knows.

"That's crazy toots! Ya know, my sister is up there, I wonder if you eveh got to meet 'er."

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I didn't meet much folk up there. I'm not much for socialising."

The spider-like dude nodded his head in understanding.

"'Tis fine, we are all different. Anyway, the name is Angel Dust, and this is her majesty Charlie." He pointed to himself then waved one of his other arms to the blonde demoness, who you now know as Charlie.

She was beaming with complete and utter joy. Why do they both smile so much when they are in the fiery pits of inferno?

"You need to come back with us and tell us EVERYTHING! You could be so helpful for my hotel!" Charlie began, but then immediately stopped once she noticed you were very much lost.

"I'm so sorry for being so direct with you! I'm Charlie, as Angel said. I should've asked if you wanted our help first. I mean, of course you want my help! I mean, do you?" She awkwardly trailed off when she noticed that you were staring at her as if she had grown another head.

Hotel? What does she mean by that?

"What she is trying to ask is if you needed a place to stay?" Angel asked, brushing his hands through his hair (was it hair?) and smoothing it over. His hair (it was definitely not hair but you didn't know what else to call it.) reminded you of Molly, and your heart ached at the thought of Kai and Molly going to your apartment and not finding you there.

You felt tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried hard to not look like you were about to burst into a puddle of sadness and utter hopelessness.

Charlie noticed this, however, and she crouched down to your height and engulfed you with the warmest hug you've ever received in a long time. You felt the dam break, and immediately you began to sob. At this point, you don't even know what you are crying over.

Maybe it's for everything that has happened over the past-decade?

Decades?

You were not entirely sure at this point honestly.

You both eventually entangled each other from the hug, and she offered you a hand to help you up. You took it gratefully, and stood up slowly to prevent yourself from falling back over. Charlie smiled at you softly, to which you grinned back.

"Alright now, are we headin’' back to the Hotel?" Angel asked with a hint of impatience in his voice. Charlie nodded her head, but looked back at you to make sure that is what you wanted. You properly smiled that time, and they both took the answer as 'yes'.

+++

The hotel was nothing like how you imagined. You learned on the trip there that the hotel was a place where sinners dwelled to try and redeem themselves to earn salvation.

That was the most wholesome thing you thought you would ever hear in Hell. There's hope for you yet.

You were currently in the lounge of the hotel, where a lot of 'group activities' took place on a daily basis. You and Vark were on top of a very comfortable couch that was tucked away in a corner. You were honestly so comfy, that you felt yourself dozing off. Until you heard a voice that made you want to rip your ears off.

"Why, hello! I didn't know our beloved Charlie had once again found another unfortunate soul to try out her silly project!"

The man's voice sounded muffled, almost as if he was speaking through some sort of antique microphone from ages ago. You made eye-contact with the looming figure, and noticed he reassembled a deer in a strange and unique way.

Who the Hell was this man? And why is he so-red?

As if he could read your mind, he shoved his hand in your face to shake and practically announced to the hotel who he was.

"The name is Alastor! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" You smile you returned was weak but you still shook his hand, and sighed when you realised he wasn't about to break your hand like the other guy. Mr. Heart or whatever his name was.

That stupid prick. You were mad at him again.

"No need to frown, dear! Smile some more! You're never fully dressed without one!"

This Alastor was starting to get on your nerves. And he seemed to be a staff member of the place, which only meant you would be seeing him a lot. That is if you stayed. Also, his own smile was slightly unnerving. . .not to mention kind of creepy.

"Alastor! Leave the poor girl alone." you heard Charlie call from another part of the lounge. Alastor rolled his eyes before he turned hot on his heels to argue back that he was simply 'introducing' himself.

Whatever, you didn't really care.

You stood up from the couch, Vark following closely, and began to sneak away from the chaos of the Hotel. You eventually found yourself on the sidewalks of the busy street of some part of town.

One thing you noted was how many bright neon lights decorated the sides of buildings and billboards. Vark seemed to be lost in the flashing colours and noises of the advertisements playing on TV's.

There were so many TV's. Which triggered a long lost memory that you never remembered from your time in Heaven.

It was a year or so after you and Vincent got married. He had just landed a job as a news reporter for a small company that was local to your hometown. You were aware that he loved all the new technology that was being released too quickly to follow up on. But you never expected him to one day bring back an extremely expensive TV for your living room.

"Vincent! What on Earth did you get this time?"

He rolled his eyes and rolled a portable box TV into the kitchen for you to examine.

"I got us a TV. It's especially for you so you can watch me when I'm on the afternoon news." He said with a cheeky smile. You chuckled at his antics and headed over to him to give him a hug.

"You're such an attention seeker, and you're also adorable."

He only laughed at that, and hugged you back just as tightly as you.

"Only for you doll, only for you."

The memory faded, and it left you standing idiotically in the middle of the sidewalk. That was new, and not to mention, so heartwarming.

You missed Vincent. A lot. And you were aware you kept thinking about him. Must be because your memories are no longer blocked.

Vark began to bark at an advertisement when you noticed a man with a TV for a head appeared on one of the TV's close to you. He was talking about some sort of security system, but you didn't care. What you did care about was how familiar his grin was to you.

That wasn't a coincidence, was it?

Vark distracted you from your thoughts when he began to run away when the scent of seafood wafted through the air. You out called after him and began to spring after the shark.

How does an animal run so fast with fins?

You once again got lost in your thoughts and didn't notice that you and your runaway shark were headed towards a huge crowd that was forming in front of a building nearby. Vark, being so small, ran in between the demons of all sizes and continued on his way. You were about to do the same until you ran into someone and knocked yourself and the stranger down.

"Woah! Careful where you're running off to!"

"I am so sorry!" You squealed when you realised that you had unintentionally caused a scene. You had landed completely on top of a random person; in front of a huge crowd; and it was the same man with the TV head.

Ah, what luck you had. Your thoughts were cut off when the TV headed man began to look you up and down, which made you very...uncomfortable? But his gaze felt familiar, as if instinct was telling you you knew this strange man.

"I feel like I've seen you before, do I know you?" He began, but you cut him off when you scrambled to your feet when you noticed Vark returned to you with some fish in his mouth. Or what you assumed was fish.

"Vark! You are in so much trouble!" You announced, bending over to pick up the mischievous land-shark that has caused oh-so-many problems with you today.

You heard people around you murmur, to which you raised your brow to, but decided to ignore. You turned back around to again apologise to the man you so rudely knocked over, but found him staring at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky.

What was his deal?

You heard him mumble your name, which definitely made you jump a bit.

"What was that?"

He rushed over to you instantly and immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you into the building the crowd was forming around, completely ignoring all the commotion that began to arise outside.

You both eventually reached a secluded corridor, and you found yourself standing in close proximity with the man.

Who even is he? And what the fuck gave him the right to drag you around like a doll?

He called your name again, and you felt his hands gently cup your cheeks. You met his artificial gaze, and you all but gasped when it all finally clicked.

Vincent Holland. Your long lost and beloved husband.

"V-Vincent?" You stammered, completely bewildered that you had somehow found him in a city with millions of people. Maybe luck was truly on your side finally.

"H-how?" You started, but got cut off when a pair of digital lips met yours in a sweet kiss. Your eyes widened in shock: you were kissing a TV. But this was also your husband. (Who had a screen for a head somehow…)

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, humming softly when he began to bite and suck at your lips. You pulled away, however, when Vark began to cry from the lack of your attention.

"Vark! Stop it!" you scolded him. Vincent chuckled at the interaction to which you raised a brow.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing. I also have a land-shark named Vark." he stated as if it were the most obvious thing. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes, doll. I got him as soon as I found out you could have one. And I named him Vark because, well, we always joked about it."

You smiled so sweetly at this. You and Vincent coincidently having a pet shark and naming them the same was just too heartwarming to you. You pulled him back into another kiss, to which Vincent welcomed whole-heartedly.

You pulled away after a minute when your lungs burned for air, and noticed Vincent was staring at you adoringly.

"What is it?" You asked.

"I thought I would never see you again. You don't know how much I've missed you. I looked for you everywhere as soon as I was able to to it safely. Even though it didn't happen as fast as I wanted, I knew I would always find you." he whispered. He kissed your head gently, which you leaned into slightly.

You felt your heart ache a little, when you realised that he probably didn't get to live in an oblivious bliss to your absence. A perk of living in Heaven, you supposed, was the lack of memory of anything that could make you wish the fiery pits of Inferno.

"Me too Vincent, me too. I'm so glad that I found you again." you placed your forehead against his (screen), and shared a loving embrace.

You and your beloved Vincent, was once again, united.

i finally looked over it, and part one of the prologue is up. if there is any mistakes i didnt catch, feel free to let me know!

also, i love vark. he carries this story ngl.

But I still will because this story felt very. . .rushed. even though it's so DAMN LONG HOLY SHIT.

-will

#x reader #x y/n #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x yn #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel x reader #IWAFY AU #IWAFY

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