#but i feel compelled to continue staring while i decide

[kindahoping4forever]

Ash @ When We Were Young Fest

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[oracle-of-dream]

Bad Habit

Summary: Jiwoong's your partner in class studying bad habits. You happen to chew on the inside of your mouth and bite your nails. It's not healthy! He feels compelled to find a new way to help you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Jiwoong is a caring man, Finger/Hand fetish, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Oral Fixation, Blowjob, Cum-swallowing

Wordcount: 2.5k

It's been a habit you've had for a long time. Maybe even since you were a kid. Any time you felt stressed out, you naturally started grinding your teeth. It felt like your brain was running out of air, your ears buzzed, and you couldn't think straight unless your mouth was occupied. After a while, it changed to chewing gum, sucking on lollipops, biting your nails... whatever you needed, to keep your brain running. It was just so relaxing.

The clouds looked so fluffy today. You chewed on your index finger while letting your mind wander.

"Y/n, your assigned partner is... Jiwoong." Your professor's voice snapped you back to reality.

Looking around the room for context clues on the topic, you noticed everyone was sitting in pairs. Talking to one another, and discussing plans.

A man by the window stared at you, his dark eyes locked with yours as he smiled. He waved you over and you took your bag to sit by him. "I'm Jiwoong. We'll be partners for a while for the project. Do you get everything that's happening?" He asked with a soft smirk.

You hated partner work. It complicated things, and you didn't even know the topic. And this Greek statue of a man was your partner–it smelled like you would be doing it all alone anyway. "No, I missed the explanation. I'll go and ask the teacher."

Jiwoong shook his head. "No need. I can explain it to you." Jiwoong explained the entire project idea with amazing clarity– as if he had written the assignment himself. It was a simple experiment to study bad habits. Each group was meant to learn about their partner and identify a bad habit and ways they can try to prevent it.

"Oh, that's super simple. What's your bad habit, Jiwoong?"

Jiwoong chuckled. "I thought we were supposed to learn about each other. Where's the fun if I just tell you the answer?"

"What do you suggest instead?"

"How about lunch? You can learn a lot about a person over a meal." Jiwoong started packing his bag. You followed him, packing your back, and walking to the campus cafeteria.

You tried to study him while walking, but he gave nothing to work with. It was time for a different approach. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"I work out," He said shortly.

"Favorite foods?"

"I like fruits, mostly the sour ones."

"Um... fears?"

"Next question."

You continued asking general questions until you sat at the table across from him. It was beginning to irritate you how nonchalant he was being. The static in your brain started taking over, the rising sound of ringing in your ears. Before you could enjoy your food, you started chewing on your chopsticks. The feeling of rolling your tongue over and around the cold metal soothed you in an instant.

"Y/n?" Jiwoong called.

"Mmh?" You mumbled as you looked over your food, deciding what to eat first.

"Actually, never mind." Jiwoong picked up his utensils and started eating with you.

You tried to study Jiwoong while he ate, but he was still perfect. An impeccable wall, with not a single crack. Meanwhile, Jiwoong studied you back with sharp eyes that occasionally met yours. Eventually, figuring out the other got boring and you let your mind wander again. Going over what else you had to do after lunch. Go to another class, study for a few hours, and then you have to stop at the store to get food for dinner.

Unconsciously, your hand scratched your chin. But instead of putting your hand back down, your thumb found its way to your lips. Your lips parted and you started chewing on your nail.

Jiwoong sucked on his teeth. "Don't bite your nails. It's not healthy for you."

You obediently put your hand down. "Whatever," you mumbled. You continued with your meal, occasionally glancing at Jiwoong and catching him closely watching your hands. You ate your meal but somehow you ended up biting your nail again.

Jiwoong stood and grabbed your hand, his eyes coated with a hint of irritation. "Don't bite them," He warned. "Or is this your bad habit?" Jiwoong smirked at you as he shook your hand in his.

"I guess it is."

"So, now we're supposed to find a way for you to break that habit." Jiwoong went through his bag and pulled out a lollipop. "Just suck this instead, okay? I read before that the best way to break that habit is to do something else."

You took the candy from him to see the flavor. "Is this butterscotch? Who eats this?" You tossed it back to him.

"It was just a random flavor, I didn't specifically pick that one. Just eat it." Jiwoong unwrapped it and pressed it to your lips, leaning over the table to reach you. You turned your head, which forced Jiwoong to hold you by your chin and guide the candy to your lips. He was soft when handling you. Holding your chin up so you were looking at him as his thumb brushed against your lips. Your lips parted for a moment and he seized the opportunity to slide into the opening. Just for a moment, Jiwoong's finger passed into your mouth and then left. His eyes were tender but piercing and you felt something inside you snap...

Jiwoong let you go and sat down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so pushy–I was just trying to–"

"It's fine... I have to go. I'll see you around." The words spilled out of your mouth quickly as you scooped your belongings and rushed out of the cafeteria, your mouth filling with saliva as you did.

You could only make it to the bathroom before spitting into the sink. Your skin ran hot in waves, almost pulsing. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see Jiwoong's face holding you as his hands slipped into your mouth. Locked in a stall, you tried to calm down but the candy wasn't helping. Even biting your nails wasn't good enough anymore. You sat on the toilet, closed your eyes, and put your fingers on your lips. You saw Jiwoong looking at you with so much care as his fingers pushed into your mouth, letting you suck on them. He moved his long fingers making you gag as he held you by your neck–he wouldn't let you back away from him. Your body twitched and squirmed as your brain went black. Softly, you started humming, then moaning as you felt pleasure from your mouth being occupied. Less than a minute of this made you finish in your pants, you breathed heavily as you returned to reality.

You were sitting in the bathroom. Fingers dripping, lips swollen, and a dark spot in your pants that couldn't show how messy it was in there.

You cleaned yourself up, had to use your bag to cover your crotch, and left the bathroom. After a few minutes, you could feel an itch at the back of your throat. No matter how many times you coughed or rubbed your throat, it wouldn't go away. By the time you got home, it was unbearable. Drinking something cold or hot and eating cough drops. Nothing was working... Until you had an idea. Slowly, you put your index finger in your mouth and started to suck on it. The itch stopped and your head was at peace again. But anytime you stopped, the itch wouldn't stay gone for long.

Were you really that much of a freak? You couldn't focus unless something was in your mouth. You had to buy more candy that night to try and calm yourself, but you barely slept. At all. And the next morning was even worse, even your fingers weren't doing the trick anymore. You needed something longer to touch the back of your throat, to itch it directly. But your gag reflex would stop you from pushing anything too far... You needed someone to scratch it for you.

You struggled through the school day. Every minute felt like an hour. But you just needed to see him again, to ask for help...

When your psychology class came, you booked it into the classroom. Jiwoong was there before you and smiled at you walking in. Your body's immediate reaction was to start salivating as if it knew what would come. You approached Jiwoong as calmly as you could, trying to drink down as much spit as you could before speaking.

"Jiwoong, about yesterday–"

"I really am sorry about that. I shouldn't have been so forceful with you."

"No! I'm really not offended."

Jiwoong chuckled. "Well if you're sure. Just let me know if I can do anything to make it up to you, I just feel bad."

Your brain rang in alarm. This was your chance. "I–uhm, actually do have something you can help me with."

His eyes brightened. "Sure, anything."

"Can you come with me for a bit? Now?" You tried to contain yourself but the way you said "now" was almost like a moan. Jiwoong nodded and followed you out of the classroom. You led him down a few hallways until you found a secluded spot.

"What's wrong? Is it bad?"

You nodded. Struggling to keep it together. You picked up Jiwoong's hand before speaking, "I-I need a serious favor."

"Say it."

Your face burned with embarrassment with the words that came out of your mouth, "Can I please suck on your fingers?"

The silence was deafening. You stood there, unable to look at his face, waiting for his eventual judgment. But it never came–Jiwoong moved his hand to your lips. "Do I need to do anything specific?"

"You'll let me!?"

Jiwoong nodded. "I said I'd make it up to you. So, sure."

You couldn't hold it back anymore. You didn't waste another moment as you closed your eyes and took two of Jiwoong's fingers into your mouth. You pushed as far down as possible, gagging immediately as your body shook. You felt Jiwoong pull his hand away, maybe out of fear for your safety, but you opened your eyes to look at him. You silently begged for more.

Jiwoong moved his fingers back into your mouth, making your eyes roll. It felt so much different when he moved on his own.

You pulled off completely, swallowing a deep breath first. "C-Can you... do it?"

"D-Do what?" Jiwoong's eyes were wide as he watched your every move.

"Please... can you help me?"

"Just tell me what to do."

"Can you take control a bit? You can stop, but I can't do it alone."

Jiwoong smiled, cupping your cheek. "Okay, I can. If that's what you need, I'll do it. My way." Jiwoong fixed his stance before you, his energy completely switching. "Kneel for me," He commanded.

Slowly you knelt and looked up at him.

"Oh, that's perfect." He stroked your cheek again before putting his two fingers on your lips. "Open." You shivered at receiving the order as your mouth wrapped around his fingers. Jiwoong held the back of your head with his other hand and pushed you forward. His fingers pushed into your mouth as your tongue wrapped around them. They tasted sweet, like sugar, and were so soft. Jiwoong played with your tongue, stroked the roof of your mouth, and looked deep into your eyes the whole time. His chest rose sharply as he gripped your head tighter, his breath loud and ragged. "Y/n, stop for a second," He pulled you off him, leaving you gasping for air.

"Why? Please, don't stop–I'm not finished." You begged, almost crying from the absence.

"I know... I need help too." Jiwoong pushed your head toward his crotch, gently asking. "Can you help me too? It'll be good for us both." Sucking his fingers was the only thing you'd thought about. But now Jiwoong was offering something else... From what you could see from the bulge in his pants–he's huge.

You nodded slowly. "Please, let me suck it."

Jiwoong unbuckled his pants and let his cock out of his underwear. It slapped against your face. It was heavy and warm. It smelled clean with a hint of sweat. He tapped it on your face a few times before he pulled on your hair. "Open... Please." You could hear Jiwoong straining, trying to keep himself from being too rough with you.

You gently opened your mouth and went to reach for his cock. Jiwoong swatted your hand away. “No hands, just–let me.” Jiwoong slapped his cock on your tongue. “You’re so cute… It’s almost bigger than your face. Lick it, baby.” Your tongue darted out, giving small kitten licks, precum salty and sticky on the stiff muscle. Jiwoong’s jaw clenched as you swirled your tongue around the tip, then licked along his shaft slowly. “Very good,” He mumbled. “Just like that, keep going.”

Your spit dripped down his cock as you licked, almost choking on your spit as you climbed up it.

“Can I fuck your mouth?” Jiwoong grunted. You nodded gently, eyes begging for more. Jiwoong pushed into your mouth, cock heavy on your tongue as the tip hit your throat. “So wet–” He started moving, listening for your moans as the vibrations traveled up his cock. Every touch of the back of your throat hit the spot perfectly. You gagged, but with Jiwoong holding you there was no way to pull away. “Brace yourself.” Jiwoong started speeding up, now both hands were holding your hand as he moved your head on his cock in time with his thrusts. Your throat bulged as his length dove down your throat. You twitched and shook at the sensation overload. Jiwoong didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

He grunted at every thrust, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry–” His next apology was cut off by his orgasm crashing over him. His cum spilled into your throat, while his cock was still deeply invested in you, forcing you to swallow. “Take it… Every drop,” Jiwoong grunted as he pulled his cock from between your lips and took a good look at you. Red, teary love-struck eyes, swollen lips, breathing heavily. You enjoyed every second of it and couldn’t feel the itch anymore. Finally, you could think soundly. Then the thought of what just happened crept into your mind.

“Jiwoong, I…”

Jiwoong looked around while slipping his cock back into his pants. “We should get out of here.”

“About that, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get rid of that feeling and I needed something…”

Jiwoong helped you to your feet. “I needed you too,” He kissed you, tasting himself on your lips. “And if you need assistance regularly, I can do that.”

You nodded. “I’d like that… A lot.”

Jiwoong’s hand slid down your stomach, “And, I can even repay you for–” Jiwoong’s eyes widened as his hand reached your crotch. “Did you cum already?” You slowly nodded. “You need some extra pants? I have my gym pants in my bag.”

“Yeah… if you don’t mind.”

[reallyromealone]

Title: quirkless

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, bnha

Characters: mikey, power loader, reader

Fic type: reader insert, omegaverse

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, omegaverse, quirkless reader, Omega male reader, soulmate reader

Notes: this is a Patreon exclusive, all other chapters are on my patreon , I just thought this was a good way to advertise

Summary: on a rainy day, (name) decided to hide in an old shrine to get away from the rain but didn't expect to meet Mikey, a quirkless alpha

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The rain was heavy, (name) sighing while seeking cover inside the old shrine. The rain was clearly not going to let up and (name) couldn't let the documents in his bag get ruined... So he guessed he was hanging out here till it let up or his cousin could pick him up.

It was quiet in the shrine, deterioration over the years and he was frankly surprised it held up at all. ' might as well work on stuff while I'm waiting' he thought and pulled out his work, wanting to be helpful to his cousin and his projects "it would have to be... 'gari... You got this measurement off..." He mumbled and fixed his cousin's error without a care in the world, the iPhone his cousin bought him working as his calculator for this all.

He was thankful for his cousin taking him after everything, he was only in his 20s and took (name) in regardless.

It really meant a lot.

Especially with well... What (name) was.

A hero taking in a quirkless Omega?

Unheard of.

"You shouldn't be here" a voice called out and (name) snapped his head up to see a blond standing before him cold back eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

-

Mikey didn't know why he was compelled to show up to the old shrine, haven't been there since he was 16 and now at the age of 19 he still remembered every detail, parking his bike off and out of the rain and stepped up. Half way he turned around, a familiar vantage point and swore he heard the old Toman members call out before continuing up, those feelings pushed down and continued his climb to the shrine.

It was untouched by time, the graffiti Baji did still on the door and signatures they did on the wooden frame...

He traced Drakens carefully....

"'gari, I know you're smart but seriously what does this mean?! I don't speak your weird jot notes!"

Mikey was confused before walking in, footsteps silent and he couldn't help but stare at the Omega based off the collar, working away on some blueprints without a note of the world around him.

"You shouldn't be here" the words slipped out calmly and the Omega snapped his head up, clearly frustrated "I'm sorry?" The words coming out like a question, eyes locking.

Then he felt it.

And he could tell the Omega felt the same.

"You're not gonna want me" (name) said simply, trying to move this along... He always thought of this day, lifting a paper and trying to figure out the codes his cousin used "why would you assume I wouldn't?" Mikey asked pointedly and (name) snorted "quirkless male Omega... Not exactly the most wanted" (name) looked back at him.

"You're quirkless?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"So am I"

That made (name) halt "you are?"

"So why wouldn't I want you?"

(Name) Couldn't believe his ears, he didn't plan this one...

Mikey wasn't expecting to find himself chatting for hours with this mystery Omega who sat beside him and chatted with him like he was his oldest friend.

"So Mikey, are you even interested in pursuing this?" (Name) Asked genuinely, knees pulled up and head resting on his knee caps with a sweet smile that made Mikey's alpha swoon a bit.

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure, I never expected you to stick around... I always imagined my fated mate to be disappointed with the whole quirkless thing..."

"Same" Mikey never bothered since he was a child, focusing on toman and now Kanto... "Maybe take it slow?" (Name) Offered and Mikey huffed a laugh, something he hadn't done in years "take it slow? Sure" his life was fast and busy but for this stranger... He found himself willing to go slow for him.

When the rain inevitably lifted, (name) was happy "well, I better get going before my cousin thinks I'm dead or something" (name) offered his hand to Mikey to help him up, the Alpha taking his hand and the two directly before each other "you have an email?" (Name) Asked softly, the smell of burning wood and spices radiating off the alpha, making (name) feel hazy.

Mikey could smell the sweet scent of (scent) and already felt obsessed with every aspect of the Omega, not wanting him to leave already...

"Wanna meet here tomorrow? Same time?" (Name) Asked him looking at him with an expression that made Mikey want to kiss him,was this the cupids arrow he always heard about with soulmates?

"Yes."

[caitified]

meeting caity at a gay bar in indy while she’s trying to be dl???? smut???

nobody knows

caitlin clark x reader

warnings: part one, there will be a smut part 2 this is just the build up. NOT PROOF READ

you’re sipping on your drink, comfortably settled against the bar, when you catch her glancing your way. she’s gorgeous, no doubt about it. she isn’t your usual type, but something is drawing you to her. luckily, she feels the same. there’s a slight hesitation in her step, but something compels her forward, bringing her closer until she’s only a couple of feet away.

she’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a subtle nervousness in her eyes as she leans in, voice low, like she’s hoping no one else will hear. “hey,” she says, glancing around the room, “do you… come here often?”

you give her a once-over, intrigued by her nervous nature. “only every now and then. but i think i’d remember if i’d seen you here before.” you smile, watching her cheeks flush as she ducks her head for a second.

she shifts, looking down at her drink. “i’m kind of new to this scene… well, not exactly new, just…” she falters, and you can tell there’s a story behind her words, something she’s holding back.

you tilt your head, encouraging her without pushing. “i get it. this place isn’t for everyone. takes a certain level of comfort to be here.”

her eyes dart up, and she gives you a faint smile. “yeah, i’m working on that.”

for a moment, she just stares at you, lips parted like she’s about to say something, then stops. finally, she says, “you probably know who i am, don’t you?”

“maybe,” you reply, giving her a teasing grin. “i’ll keep your secret safe, though.”

her shoulders visibly relax at that, and she steps a little closer, her gaze flickering over you like she’s taking you in properly for the first time. “thanks. i… i don’t usually do this. i have a boyfriend, actually.”

there’s something in her tone that makes you think she’s explaining it as much to herself as she is to you. you nod, not wanting to push her, but there’s undeniable tension between you two — a tension she’s clearly fighting against but failing.

“fair enough,” you say softly, not stepping back, just letting her linger in your space. “i won’t judge if you just want some company tonight. whatever that means.”

she bites her lip, hesitating, and you can almost see her weighing out her options in her mind. but then, something in her shifts, as if she’s decided to let go of the weight of those thoughts, at least for tonight.

“maybe i don’t want to just stay here tonight,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your cool, nodding. “then let’s get out of here.”

she follows you outside, the air wrapping around you both as you step out of the bar. you walk side by side in silence, and finally, she looks over at you, her guard completely down for the first time. she reaches for your hand, squeezing it, almost like she needs the reassurance.

you smile, giving her fingers a soft squeeze back. she’s still nervous, but you can feel her growing comfort as you make your way back to your place, anticipation building between you two.

once inside, the tension is almost unbearable. she hesitates for a fraction of a second before finally closing the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both hesitant and hungry. you feel her let go, surrendering to this moment she’s been trying to fight……

to be continued…if you want this to go a certain way or have certain things involved, let me know.

[lovelykil]

secret─

kyle brofl.

short oneshot

note; it was kyle. HAHAhehe I've missed himm

"Is this where go run off to?"

"to get away from you 4 idiots? Yes." Kyle joins you on the roof after carefully climbing the shaky ladder. The ginger scoffs, his lips curling. You feel him inch closer from behind and soon find a spot next to you, you look over your shoulder exhaling smoke from a cigarette you lit up seconds ago.

he meets your gaze but is quickly distracted by the cancer stick, "since when did you smoke?" Kyle raises his brow. You look at the bud then bring it to your dry lips for another inhale.

"I don't, I just wanted an excuse to steal something from my mother." You respond, blandly as you decide to ditch the bitter taste of the stick with a scrunched face. You rub it into the hard surface you are sitting upon and flick it off the roof with your fingers.

the both of you watch the cigarette fall to its death and land on the ground, lifelessly. Kyle stays silent, not questioning your rebellion against your mother

at this point, it was natural for him.

as you continue to peer down at the dead cigarette, his attention is brought to the sky. The once vibrant shade of blue was now a deep orange-cream hue, it was like staring at a breathtaking art piece crafted by only a professional. Kyle gazes into oblivion for a moment then steals a quick glance over at you.

you were now messing with the laces of your dirty shoes, you wrapped the lace around your index finger and then unraveled the lace slowly. Your full attention was solely on messing with the laces of your shoes, you were too in your mind.. too distracted to realize he was staring.

kyle himself hadn't realized the quick 'glance' was now a full-on stare. He couldn't help it though, he loved admiring you. Was it normal for best friends to want to stare at their friend forever? Or was he weird?

he never understood mentally, but that look of profound admiration evident in his verdant eyes when he gazes upon you spoke volumes. It was clear to his friends.. but what about you?

something compelled you to direct your attention toward the presence beside you after being distracted, you weren't sure why but you decided to look anyway. And to your surprise, you were met with the mesmerized ginger already looking at you with a weird look.

It wasn't a WEIRD look but a weird look.

it didn't help you two were already sitting so close too, if you wanted to kiss him you could. One lean and...

you expect him to look away out of embarrassment but he locks eyes with you instead. Unable to escape your captivating eyes, while you, after a slight hesitation, are trapped inside the emerald depths of his gaze.

a feeling was resurfacing back to you, it felt awfully familiar. The lightness of your weight, the nonsense flooding your mind, and the squeamish feeling in your tummy that felt like butterflies were attacking your insides.

the more you looked at him the more you were digging your grave, the more you eyed his lips the more the voices grew, and the more you leaned closer to finally feel his breath fan your lips... the harder it got to contain the secret.

"Kyle I'm moving! I'm– I'm moving out of South Park." You shout out of panic and quickly pull away from him. Kyle leans away as well but slowly as the gears in his mind try to process the almost kiss and your dreadful confession. His brows furrow in disbelief once it finally hits him, you watch him with a guilty expression. It was over.

"what the fuck"

[kolyasangel]

A LIGHT NOT FAR AWAY FROM US

synopsis: it's a restless night for both you and nikolai, which makes room for late night talks—maybe the two of you have more in common than initially thought.

content: ch. 5 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 8.1k

Restlessness is not what you thought would accompany you tonight.

The sound of your bedsheets rustling was becoming increasingly tiresome at this point. It feels like the hundredth time that you are shifting to the opposite side, hoping that, this time, it would be the more comfortable spot—though you're sure you already have your answer.

You don't usually have trouble sleeping at night, but something unseen is bothering you, like an invisible force compelling you to stay awake.

Frustrated by your futile attempts to fall asleep, you reluctantly leave the warmth and comfort of your bed, dragging your feet on the wooden floor as you head to your front door to seek solace in the calming night air. You put your slippers on and open the door, expecting an empty balcony at this hour—only to see a certain someone already standing on the balcony with his arms folded on the railing, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

"Nikolai?"

Startled, Nikolai turns to face you with a flicker of surprise in his tired eyes.

"I'm sorry for spooking you," you say, the corners of your lips turning upwards at his reaction. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies with nonchalance.

Taking in Nikolai's exhausted appearance and red eyes, it becomes evident to you that maybe he was also struggling to sleep.

"I couldn't sleep for some reason, so I just wanted some fresh air," you explain to him, moving closer to stand beside him on the balcony, mirroring his stance and resting your hands on the railing like he's doing.

He seems taken aback at your response as if he didn't expect that to come out of your mouth. "I couldn't sleep either."

It's like your presence is making Nikolai feel on edge, evident from how he isn't facing you and the tight grip of his hands on the railing. Wanting him to ease up, you place a gentle hand on his back. “Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about me," he reassures with a laugh, finally meeting your eyes.

There was a magnetic pull, the way his eyes locked onto you and your appearance. It's hard for him to tear his gaze away like usual when his eyes trail and notice how you look this flawless, even when you're just wearing a simple loose t-shirt and pajama pants. He loathes that even for a second he liked seeing you like this, your bare-faced look with tousled hair.

Stop it.

He scolds himself internally and forcefully turns his head the other way, realizing it's too risky to keep staring.

You pull your hand away from his back, returning to rest on the railing when Nikolai shifts away from your touch. "Don't you love the smell of summer night air? There's just something about it that's unique and refreshing," you say, looking at him. "I guess it isn't really summer anymore though.. since fall is practically here. The weather changes so quickly, don't you think?"

He nods and remains silent but listens as you continue to speak aimlessly, your voice filling the void.

"It's still summer in my heart, though," you add, a grin forming on your lips as you run your fingers through your hair to smooth it a little. "I find it hard to decide what my favorite season is. As much as I adore summer, sometimes the heat gets to me and I can't wait for winter to start. Every season is charming and unique in its own way, so I can't pick one over the other."

A soft, almost wistful smile forms on Nikolai's lips while he listens to you sharing your thoughts. "I like winter," he confides. "I personally think it's the best season."

"Oh, I never would've guessed that!" you laugh with surprise at his unexpected response, your hands retreating close to your chest again in delight. "Do you like the cold?"

He nods almost immediately. "It's familiar to me. Where I'm from, it's always cold, so winter feels especially comforting."

A grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. It encourages you to go on. "Now I can't wait for winter to arrive, just so I can see the pure joy on your face."

Your remark elicits a laugh from Nikolai, a sound that quickens your heartbeat and brings a subtle warmth to grow in your cheeks. It felt like a rare chance to talk to Nikolai like this, so you made the most of it with what you could. These infrequent moments of connection were precious to you, and you wanted to seize every one of them and hold them close.

"Maybe we can go ice skating when winter comes around," you propose to him impulsively, heart racing with spontaneity. "I've always wanted to learn how to ice skate."

"And what makes you think I know how to skate?" he retorts, a teasing edge to his voice. Yet, there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his expression softening a bit at your suggestion, momentarily replaced by one of intrigue instead.

"I just.. thought it would be fun if we could try it together, that's all." you giggle, warmth blooming in your chest at the mere thought.

"Yeah, thought you would say that," he slyly says before his gaze returns to the starry night sky.

Your eyes follow his. "Aren't they pretty?" you ask him, referring to the stars that twinkle like tiny beacons in the dark, tilting your head in fascination.

His attention shifts from the sky to his own hands in front of him, which rest on the balcony railing. "Yeah.. whatever," he shrugs with disinterest.

A thought pops into your head, nearly making you laugh out loud. "Do you think wishing on stars makes dreams come true?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, they don't. Maybe if you're five," he responds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I was just curious to see what you would say," you giggle lightheartedly at his skeptical reply. "It doesn't hurt to hope though, right?"

That couldn't be more false.

He thinks you must be blissfully unaware of the double-edged sword that is hope. The emotional investment, the attachment that is linked with hope—they all contribute to and amplify the hurt and heartache of unfulfillment that follows. It's a painful reality he's already come to face, though he supposes you wouldn't know anything about that.

"What's your biggest wish?" Nikolai asks you, deterring the current topic.

You ponder for a moment before answering, reflecting on his question in the stillness of the night. "To be wanted.. no, needed. To have someone in my life who understands and loves me unconditionally," you reply, looking at him with a smile. "I think we can agree that everyone wants that, right?"

Nikolai nods half-heartedly as he absorbs your words, more so as a tepid response rather than an earnest sharing of sentiment.

"What's yours?" you ask him.

"What's my what?" he shoots back at you, confused by your question.

"Your biggest wish?" you pout jokingly. "I told you mine, so tell me yours!"

"Oh," he sighs, slightly overwhelmed by your encouragement and the playful spark in your eyes. He felt as if he'd been detached from society for years and didn't know how to interact or talk to people like a normal person anymore.

Actually, he isn't sure if that's ever been easy for him anyway.

"I don't have one."

Your lips press together at his response as disappointment flits across your face. But you change the topic, feeling as if he'd appreciate that. "Nikolai, I saw this park nearby on my drive back from work today.. and I think it would give us a great view of the stars," your voice turns quieter with nervous anticipation as the next words leave you. "Do you want to come with me?"

Nikolai shakes his head.

He doesn't really feel like going anywhere right now, not with you especially. So when he hears shuffling beside him and sees you stepping back inside your apartment, a lightweight sigh of relief escapes him as he realizes that you probably went back to sleep.

But a few minutes later, he hears your door creak and open again. He sees you emerge, changed out of your previous sleepwear.

"Where are you going?" he asks you, confused. A sense of curiousness swims in the depths of his light-colored irises, shadowed by a hint of something deeper.

"I want to go myself," you respond to him, your voice growing fainter with each step you take toward the stairs.

Panic.

"Are you crazy? It's not safe for you to be out alone this late at night," his voice turns stern with no care for the other sleeping neighbors as he watches you walk further down the steps, half-expecting that you will turn back at any second.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes piled into a mountain of dread that turned more unclimbable as time continued to pass. It was uncomfortable—the sensation of a certain unease that claws at his chest the longer he waits. Yet amid this feeling, an opportunity opened up for him. He realizes that if anything were to happen to you, it would no longer be of his concern—it wouldn't be his problem anymore, and he would be free of the burden that has begun to weigh so heavily on him.

But just as quickly as that surfaces, another hits him like a cold wave—you aren't coming back. A sort of alarm washes over him, so in a sudden rush, he hurriedly heads back into his own apartment to put on his shoes. He feels the roughness of the soles beneath his fingertips before he frantically pulls on a jacket, snatching up his keys and wallet just in case as an afterthought.

"Fuck.." His frustration was clear as he made it down the stairs, the irritation manifesting in the furrowed lines above his brows and the tense clench of his fists. He didn't have to follow you, but if he didn't, that didn't feel right either—the idea of letting you go out alone gnawing at his conscience.

He wants to be strong and unyielding, to resist the pull of his feelings and the impulses that guide him as an insurgence to rid the soul of its hell. But it's as if his heart and mind are engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, each vying for control over his actions and decisions. His want to stand firm and resolute seemed futile when his own emotions betrayed him at every turn, leaving him feeling ambivalent and astray from his own self.

He reluctantly follows you, scuffling with internal clashing desires, torn between the urge to resist and the unknown fervor brewing within him.

Like a moth disoriented by a flame, he follows.

— ✦

The moon embellishes the dark velvet sky with nothing but the rhythmic tapping sound of footsteps against the pavement echoing in the air, a slight breeze caressing your face as you stroll.

"I didn't tell you to come, you know," you turn to Nikolai who is now walking beside you, accompanying your walk with his hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket.

Honestly, you were thankful for his sudden change of heart and that you hadn't made it that far before he caught up to you. You were glad that he had decided to join you in the end because even if you didn't want to admit it, you didn't want to venture out alone in the first place.

"I didn't think you would actually go out by yourself." A low grumble comes from next to you, breaking the peaceful quiet.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, teeth bitterly pressed down to stifle a reaction and hold back a response, even if you weren't completely sure of how you would respond to that either.

So what if you did? Why did it matter to him if you went alone?

It made little sense to you. You couldn't understand why he would be irritated over this when he made the decision to follow you himself, a swirling mix of frustration and confusion brewing within you at the thought. It feels like no matter what you do, you are blamed for only doing what you want to do. He was under no obligation to accompany you. Yet, you still think he was kind for doing so anyway, even if it feels tainted by the unspoken tension.

Most of the walk was spent in silence, which surprisingly suited you just fine this time. Silence as in no words were being spoken, only the sound of the dead fiery-colored leaves that had started to fall from the trees crunching beneath your feet.

However, the silence did bother someone else.

It didn't go unnoticed to Nikolai that the look on your face was the same one from earlier in the day. It didn't go unnoticed that this silence was just like before, and he didn't understand why it bothered him despite it being a good thing for him. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to listen to you rambling nonstop. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to go through hell and back trying to decide whether or not he should respond to you or not. All of these are good things that he should want.

But he can't focus on anything when that same feeling of suffocation arises within his chest again, and it drives him to do something about it quickly to alleviate it.

The two of you came to a stop by a vending machine, its bright light casting a glow that illuminates both of your faces in the darkness.

"Do you want anything?" Nikolai asks you while he's reaching to pull out his wallet from his pocket.

You get closer to the vending machine and peer at all the drink options offered, a strawberry fizzy drink catching your eye. "This one please," you request as you point towards the glass.

He inserts a bill into the machine, the acceptor buzzing as it eats his money. He then pushes a button for the strawberry drink you chose, along with a melon cream soda.  

You smile to yourself when you notice his choice of drink. You don't know why, but you find his drink options cute. He could pick something like coffee or something bland, but he seems to prefer sweeter flavors.

Nikolai collected both of the drinks once they fell, handing you yours before continuing to walk along beside you. But he notices how you look at the can in your hands instead of cracking it open like he does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks before bringing his drink to his lips.  

“I feel bad,” you confess to him.

“Why?”

“Because you bought this for me, and I want to pay you back somehow..”

He doesn’t understand how you could feel guilty over such a simple thing. And he couldn’t decide whether it was admirable or pathetic either, though he was leaning towards the latter.

He is just confused. You always manage to find a new way to confuse or shock him, and he found it amusing above all. It wasn't like he hadn't ever felt guilty about money either, although for very different reasons. But he couldn't be concerned about something so insignificant anymore when there was a bigger issue at hand, standing right next to him.

“You don’t need to feel bad, just drink it. I already bought it for you, ‘kay?” he reassures you, an uncertain look swimming in his eyes.

A smile crept onto your lips.

It felt like a gift.

— ✦

"Guess what kind of flower this is!" your cheery voice fills the air.

"Let me take a wild guess. A white one?" Nikolai's monotone voice responds as a contrast while you're eagerly pointing to a bloom you happened to come across.

"No! Well, you're not wrong.."

Nikolai's arms are crossed while you're fascinated by the flowers that decorate the bushes. He finds it amusing that you can be so interested in something so ordinary, so trivial.

"You like flowers a lot," he states, his observation unable to stay confined in his mind, almost wanting you to say something to satiate his hidden curiosity.

"I like to care for and look after things that are delicate, that need me. It gives me a purpose," you turn to look at him as you both start walking again. "I find that whenever you have a purpose, life is more bearable."

If he was being honest with himself, Nikolai is at a loss for words. You seem so put together and have everything set in stone compared to him. You seemed to have achieved everything you wanted in life without grueling difficulty compared to him. You seem to have everything so easy compared to him.

You seem content. He wishes he could be the same.

He envies you.

The glow of the lamp lights illuminates the bench in the middle where you both return to, each footstep echoing softly in the quiet air before the two of you sit down, across from each other.

"When did you start working at that flower shop anyway?" Nikolai asks you with genuine curiosity before taking a sip of his drink, feeling a slight chill from the cold metal against his lips.

It probably wasn't a good idea to drink something this late at night, especially something sweet. But the drink wasn't as sugary as he expected it would be. Moreover, he was already awake anyway, so he found little to no harm in doing so.

And besides, this was certainly one way to kill some time.

"Only a year ago," you answer. "I was really unhappy about where I was in life but I ended up finishing my degree and graduating anyway, only to end up where I am now."

"Parents probably weren't pleased about that, I'm guessing?"

"Of course not, but why do anything at all if it doesn't make you happy?" you say, tapping your nails against the aluminum can.

Happiness.

Another putrid emotion. Why not choose freedom of the soul?

However, you seem much more open-minded compared to many other individuals he has ever met in his entire life. He had to wonder about something—if he were to enlighten you about his goals, would you accompany him on his journey? Would you understand him like he did?

No, nobody does. Nobody has before or since then, and nobody will.

He is a fool for even thinking so. But he had to admit, he was a bit astonished by your bold statement.

Extremely envious, even. Because you're stronger than him.

The words start to come out of his mouth, thinly-veiled. It didn't help that it was late either—his head getting fuzzier with each passing hour, the words flowing from his mouth with little inhibition.

"I think you're brave."

A subtle flush creeps up your cheeks, taken aback enough to stop your tapping when you hear the sudden words come out of Nikolai's mouth. "What?"

He freezes after seeing your reaction, a profound realization of what he just told you immediately settling in. It feels like time has paused for him—a moment suspended in disbelief at his own words, knowing it's too late to take anything back. There was no taking back what he had laid bare, no taking back the words that continued to come out of his mouth with no stop.

"For wanting to do your own thing, to follow your own path no matter what others around you say or think. That's a very brave thing to do, you know," Nikolai finishes off quietly, his gaze averted elsewhere as if searching for something else to direct his focus on.

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you let the sincerity of his compliment soak in. "Thank you," you shyly tell him while fiddling with your fingers before finally resting your hands in your lap. "That's the first time someone's ever told me that."

It’s impossible for him not to shift his gaze back to you as you speak softly, your voice mellow. "You weren't scared at all?" he asks you, resting his elbows on the table and crossing one of his arms over the other.

"I felt lonely, that's all," you admit in a voice more hushed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you nervously gnaw at it.

You still do, but you didn't want to admit that to him out of shame. The humiliation that would come with doing so was something you feared, his reaction to the knowledge of it.

What would he think of you if you did?

Although recalling the events of earlier in the day, you think it's a little too late and even pointless to be worrying about that now. However, you still didn't have your answer, and you weren't sure of why you wanted it so badly either—why his opinion held so much weight.

Your eyes drift back to the star-studded sky above, which looks like a vast canvas painted with shimmering diamonds. But it's something you can't fully enjoy when a small chill creeps up on you, an elusive beauty dulled by a brisk breeze rustling the trees and passing by the both of you.

Nikolai notices you shiver. He knows you're cold.

But all he can do is grip the jacket on his frame and hold it closer to himself while looking down at the ground, where the earth seems more interesting than the unfolding situation.

He would not surrender to these feelings.

"You should tell me something about yourself too," you say with excitement bubbling in your voice to catch his attention again, but your gut signals you to back that sentence up with something else. “Only if you want to..” your words come out deliberately and carefully so as not to overstep boundaries that stretch between you.

Hesitance. Nikolai was practically hanging by a thread here.

What is he doing?

This was precarious. He should know better not to speak any further, to step further into this dangerous territory he knows he shouldn't explore. Still, he can't seem to stop himself like he normally would be able to when an unfamiliar urgency grips him to unravel his usual self-control.

"I do have one wish," he tells you, his fingers unconsciously curling around the now-empty can as if seeking comfort in its solidity, something he wishes he could possess in this moment.

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, but you nod to let him know that you're listening, undoubtedly interested in whatever he is about to admit to you.

"Freedom."

Freedom.

The word rings in your mind. It was so simple, yet it seemed so ominous.

"Freedom..?" you repeat in a way that makes it seem like a question directed back at him.

A nod confirmed it once more. "To be free from any attachments, and everything that bounds me," he reveals.

Nikolai's sudden seriousness took you by surprise. He was never one to open up about his feelings or his past, but now he’s telling you something that seems to hold importance to him, so casually at that. Maybe the two of you have reached a new level of closeness.

You've wondered about Nikolai's guarded nature and hesitance to open up about his emotions before, more times than you would like to admit. However, you never thought it would be because of such an unpredictable reason. His reluctance to share anything about himself with you could be a reflection of a deep-rooted apprehension due to this so-called freedom he was referring to. It's the earnestness with which Nikolai shares with you regarding his wish for freedom that alludes to something, but you try not to ponder on it for too long.

"Like a bird?" you ask when the thought flits across your mind like one.

He looks up at you, almost confused that you caught onto him so quickly. A hint of admiration imbues his tone as he begins to speak. "How did you know?"

"Cause birds fly freely, and that was the first thing that came to my mind when you mentioned freedom," you explain, a lilt in your voice.

"Yeah, that's precisely what I mean," he acknowledges and smiles, visibly content that you could comprehend it from his perspective.

"Aww, Nikolai, I know you so well!" you exclaim your happiness, catching the small glint in his eyes when you do so.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't expect you to understand where I was coming from," he tells you, unable to control how the corners of his lips turn upward.

"Why wouldn't I?" you sulk playfully to feign offense, causing a giggle to escape from Nikolai.

Nikolai shakes his head like he isn't sure how to respond. This whole thing was definitely a change of pace for him. Someone attempting to understand the way he thinks wasn't only rare—it was something completely unexpected.

"When did you first know that you wanted freedom?"

He feels his throat tighten at your question as if the words resisted escaping. In truth, Nikolai was far too young to be thinking of such things. But it wasn't like he had a choice given his circumstances at the time.

"At a young age," he replies regardless, his voice tinged with an unshakeable uneasiness as each syllable spills out like a reluctant confession.

What does he mean?

You had no choice but to contemplate why he felt so strongly for freedom since a young age, as he had just admitted to you. You were forced to wonder what blossoms such a strong desire in the first place.

How long has Nikolai been fighting for freedom? What exactly lies beneath his calm face?

More and more questions swirl in your thoughts, each one tugging at your curiosity and swelling an urge to understand him more deeply, to sift through his layers.

"But.. don't you think it's difficult for a bird to fly if it's been confined in a cage its whole life?" you ask gently, an ache growing in your chest at the thought of him dealing with hardships.

He feels as if everything around him crumbles when your words reach him, leaving him unsteady. "What are you trying to say?" he replies, a steely bite sneaking into his voice.

"The bird only knows what it's been surrounded by its whole life," you explain further. "You're striving to reach freedom, but what will you do when you get it? What if it's not what you had hoped for?"

In a heartbeat, Nikolai is speechless, his expression a mixture of different emotions. Your words cut deep, carving into the layers of his mind through his convictions and inscribing new ideas into it that he'd never entertained, unfurling deftly and intertwining with the beliefs he had cultivated for so long.

How dare you.

How dare you force him to rethink everything he's ever known.

To him, your innocent appearance was such an intense contrast to how effortlessly you could rake your fingers through layers of defense he'd hardened over the years, cutting into a wound that he doesn't think will ever heal. You look at him like you're peeling back each layer one by one, exposing the tears underneath that aren't meant to be seen by anyone other than himself.

He's convinced someone or something has sent you here to him to contest everything he stands for.

He doesn't know what it is, but he's afraid.

He felt like he was being cornered while clinging onto his idea of freedom, no matter how small he felt with your question that was like a dagger to his soul. Yet by feeling this way, he was only prolonging his stay like a bird stuck in its cage, the sharp, cold metal confining him inside with no release in sight.

The lack of response from Nikolai signals that maybe you said something you shouldn't have, your hands falling to grip the sides of your thighs in anxiousness. But rather than him being irritated like you expected, you notice that he only looks sad. Noticing this makes you feel so bad because it wasn't your intention to make him feel upset.

"So, you wish to be free from everything.. does that include your emotions too?" you ask, intrigued to know more and to ease some tension that started to cloud over.

"Exactly," he affirms, humming in agreement. "The mind is a cage. You'll never be truly free as long as your emotions tie you down and keep you captive," his tone softens while his eyes are still avoiding you.

A certain dread suddenly fills you, sensing something unsettling lying beneath the depth of his words.

"I guess so.." you respond, trying to understand it from his perspective for something he clearly cares a lot about. "Sometimes I wish my emotions didn't control me so much either.. I wish I didn't have to feel hurt or pain or anything like that," you breathe out, releasing a soft sigh to collect your thoughts while also making sure not to spill too much. "It's hard, isn't it?"

His head shoots back up, eyes widening as they meet your face as you continue to speak.

"But I think it's all right to feel like that occasionally because we're only human. It's natural to feel emotions and I shouldn't push myself too hard to resist against that." Your gaze trails over to him, observing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Nikolai is still looking at you, his expression changing to one of astonishment at your words and the fact that you didn't judge him at all for what he deemed important. He wasn't sure that you could fully understand him or the complexities of what he felt. However, the absence of such judgment in regard to his goals and the thoughtful attempts you're making to try to understand him is what strikes him most, as it's something he doesn't think he's ever encountered to such an extent before in his life. Instead, you embrace the very facets of his existence, ones that he doesn't even bother to explore much himself.

You lock eyes with him, allowing you to notice a sparkle flickering in the depths of his trembling irises that you haven't seen before. Maybe it's the faint shimmer of the stars reflecting into them, or perhaps it was something else—it doesn't matter, because either way, his eyes have never looked prettier as you found yourself unable to look away from him like a pull is holding you in place. The way shadows dance across his features only accentuates the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness in his usually intense eyes, giving him an aura of fragile strength. There was something deeply evocative about his stunned expression, a depth that pulled at your heartstrings—a raw honesty that takes your breath away for a second.

It felt like you said something that changed his whole rhythm.

You don't know what comes over you, but you're so overwhelmed by an inexplicable urge that the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, soft and earnest.

"I like your eyes.."

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Nikolai's mind begins to whirl. It's hard to ignore the heat crawling up his neck and the erratic pulsing of his heartbeat, each thud echoing in his ears as the weight of your words settles around him. The moment hangs heavy as you're disrupting fragile boundaries, unknowingly pulling at the strings of something he'd carefully constructed for his own protection. He tears his eyes away to rest his head on his arms, which are folded over each other on the bench, giving zero mind to the discomfort of the metal. He couldn't be bothered by it when it granted him a reprieve from whatever you just stirred in him, taking the chance to escape the intensity of your gaze.

God, why did he have to be so fucking pathetic?

As if his former jester persona hadn't tattered him completely, he'd soon quickly donned a mask of a different type, one more draining than he could've ever imagined being. This facade of pretending to be unbothered and emotionless was one very different from the eccentric one he'd taken on years ago—an exhausting never-ending performance that lasted years.

But he's tired. He couldn't take it anymore, so he abandoned the former.

It was so easy to wear a mask of laughter then, easier in comparison to the one he was wearing now. How such a thing was possible was beyond him, but the difficulty of maintaining his present condition only rose when you appeared in the picture. Now, standing on the precipice of something real with you, the confusion and conflict only sharply twist deeper within him like a knife. 

What would it mean to let you in?

That thought terrifies him.

Fear grips him tightly—fear of vulnerability, fear of disappointment, fear of losing himself as his sanity as he knows it is slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Being around you only fed into such things, as well as the anger that came after the realization of it. It was a matter of time before he'd regret his actions again. He really does try to control his resentment, but his patience is wearing thin. He'd already unraveled too much that day he spent with you, and he wasn't going to unravel anymore. For obvious reasons, of course—but there was one that flits into his mind and out just as quickly, the ache in his chest persisting.

“Nikolai?” you ask, your voice breaking into his turbulent thoughts.

But he doesn't raise his head even after you speak up.

It alarms you, your lips rubbing together in nervousness due to this troubling situation you're put in. You decide to take matters into your own hands and channel some bravery—bravery you didn't even know you possessed yourself until tonight.

His words ring in your mind again, louder than the initial time.

You rise on your feet and walk over to his side, taking a seat next to him while also keeping in mind to not get too close to bother him. His braid fell over his back in such a way you considered far too perfect to be candid, far too perfect for someone who was struggling with sleeplessness. You had to take a second to admire him—and maybe it was wrong to do so while he seemed troubled, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your hand moved on its own, fingers sliding against the cold metal of the table. "Nikolai," you begin softly. "We can go back now.." Your hand reaches to his shoulder, gently kneading it with heedfulness.

One could mistake the caution instilled in your movements as fear, but that couldn't be further from the truth. You weren't scared of him, not at all. Your main focus was to keep the atmosphere light, to maintain what you had right now—fearful that anything you did could push him away at any moment, leaving you to face the silence in your life that felt all too heavy. You didn't want to upset your friend in any way. That was truly the last thing you could ever want.

"No.." he groans softly and shifts away from your touch.

"Hm? You don't want to?" your rubbing comes to a halt, just barely feeling the material of his jacket underneath your fingertips. You try to avoid touching his hair since you don't think he would welcome such closeness, but with a subtle movement from Nikolai, his braid falls and brushes against the backside of your hand, sending a shudder to course through you from its silkiness.

He lifts his head slightly, immediately prompting you to move away from him so he can have the space he most likely wants. You're very aware of the need to respect his boundaries and space, but when he looked so distressed you couldn't help but want to comfort him and soothe whatever was troubling him.

Nikolai's eyes are still avoiding you, looking in the opposite direction as he feels your hand move away from him. It wasn't your touch that he was so bothered by, but rather the feeling he gets when you do so and the ache that lingered in the absence of it. Not to mention, the words that came out of your mouth were dangerous. It's like you knew where it hurt the most and purposefully pushed his buttons, intentionally pressing those raw, aching spots of vulnerability. Yet, beneath the surface of that impression he wanted to believe, he was painfully aware that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He recalls the events of earlier in the day, those gentle, unintentional touches shared between you both that kindled something in him. The way you looked at him while he was in your apartment, the playful banter and laughter shared. The way you treated him with so much kindness despite him not doing anything for you. In a weird way, it felt like a dirty secret—one that not even he was supposed to have knowledge of.

"Are you okay?" you ask again, feeling concerned for him.

"Of course I am," he fleers as if it was ridiculous that you were even asking him such a question. He presses his lips together and relaxes his eyebrows, returning to his usual, placid expression. He slowly gets up from the table, slipping a hand in his pocket to feel for his keys.

You're momentarily a little startled by the sheer strength revealed to you when he takes both empty cans and crushes them with no trouble before tossing them in a trash can near the bench.

"Come on, let's go," he tells you before walking back in the direction of the apartment complex, pretending as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe it was for the better.

— ✦

1:54 a.m.

Your phone makes a click noise as you turn it off after checking the time, the brief glow of the screen diminishing in the darkness.

The walk back home was silent too, for the most part, momentarily broken by crispy leaves falling apart as the earthy scent of decay pervades the air.

"We should do this more often.." you smile at Nikolai who's walking a little ahead now. But he doesn't turn to look at you, the silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket. The unresponsiveness makes you turn your head down, eyes drifting downward to look at the ground you're walking on instead. They trace the uneven pavement as you walk, examining each crack and stone after another.

As Nikolai navigates each step, he can feel the subtle heat rising over him again. It seems to worsen whenever he tries to distance himself—a smoldering intensity that gets hotter and hotter, threatening to swallow him. He glances back at you, your figure slightly blurred by the fog of his unease. Each time he meets your gaze, it's as if you ignite something within him, a flicker of vulnerability he desperately tries to douse out. The last thing he wants is to be burned by whatever he's feeling right now—it's a flame that could easily turn to ash if he allowed it to grow.  

When you raise your head back up, you notice his gaze and quicken your pace to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. You peek at him with a look of concern etched all over your face, a silent invitation for him to share what weighs on his mind.

“Stop, I'm fine,” he replies with an edge to his words, but even to his own ears, the words sound unconvincing and hollow. The reassurance falls flat, yet he presses on as if trying to not only convince just you, the uneasiness simmering just below the surface.  

Regret already started to settle in.

It was only now that he noticed there weren't many people out at this late at night, which gave him a strange sense of relief—that maybe you would've been alright by yourself. But, at the same time, he would've never known if he never came along either.

The image of you wandering alone in the darkness was one he couldn’t shake despite outwardly convincing you—and perhaps someone other than you—that he’s indifferent about the choices you decide to make. As much as he didn't want to admit it, each option felt equally as worse than the other and caused him to suffer a great deal, like a blade slicing into his skin no matter the direction he took. He feels trapped, resenting this reality where these new blooming desires collide with his autonomy.

As you both reach the apartment complex, he steadies himself. Just a little longer—he tells himself, to keep holding tight to that mask. He swallows hard, trying his best to suppress the intimidating heat slowly looming over him. He can’t afford to let himself get scorched. Not now, not again.  

Reaching the last step of the stairs, a hand slides into his jacket pocket to pull out his key to return to his apartment—something that needed to happen more than anything, but his fingers freeze in the process. Instead, he turns on his heel, drawn back to the balcony rather than his own door.

He can't help but sense someone's gaze fixated on him, confirming his suspicion when he turns his head to see you looking at him.

"What?" he asks you, his voice caught somewhere between the lines of curiosity and sensitivity.

"You're not going to bed?" you ask while following his movements as if tethered to him, reluctant to return to your apartment yourself.

He shakes his head as if he's not feeling tired. You, on the other hand, do feel weary, but you didn't want to leave him alone just yet.

"Nikolai.."

He listens as you begin to speak, your voice soft, your lashes fluttering like delicate wings. It's so difficult to ignore everything that he should, the ache in his chest growing sharper with your presence.

"Yeah?"

Even though the sun had already gone down long ago, he still felt its warmth right beside him. And with every passing moment, he feels drawn closer to that warmth, yet instinctively pulls away.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask him, your voice carrying a sweet curiousness.

Fate? Why would you ask?

He isn't sure what he even believes in anymore.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think, his head clouded and fuzzy in a haze, his stomach twisting with warmth. He only shakes his head as his eyes are still peering into yours before quickly glancing away. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to stay outside for a little longer until his thoughts turn void and senseless.

There wasn't anything stopping you from retreating to your apartment yourself right now, yet you felt determined to stand in this spot until the both of you went to sleep. The silence hung heavy, a comforting yet laden awkwardness in the air. You don't know what to do but to look at Nikolai in this moment while your fingers twirl the ends of your hair, wrapped up in the shared silence.  

"Go to sleep, I can tell you're tired," his voice slices through the silence, breaking your trance as you blink repeatedly to expel some heaviness weighing down on your eyelids.

"But what about you? You need some sleep too," you tell him, a fine thread of concern weaving through your words. It feels important to you to let him know that he's not alone in this exhaustion.

"I'll sleep in a little bit," he reassures you, standing still in his place.

You don't have much energy left to muster up a protest when drowsiness slowly starts to overtake your senses, causing you to yawn and rub one of your eyes. "Alright, alright.. whatever you say," you reply with a smile and reach over to pat his shoulder lightly, taking his word for it.

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" you chide, your finger moving to give his shoulder a little poke. When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, he looks back at you with a bit of surprise at your touch. The innocence of the gesture feels like a shared secret, and a grin breaks across your face at his adorable reaction—so infectious that it makes his lips twitch slightly upward as well.

Whether or not he was naturally shy was a mystery to you as it was difficult to read him—but you found these moments where such behavior was present endearing nonetheless, beautiful even.

Nikolai turns around and watches as you walk to your apartment door, gulping when you turn to him and flash him one more coy smile that somehow sparkles in the dim light.

"I hope you get your wish soon, Nikolai. Goodnight."

His mind blanks for a moment, overwhelmed by his surroundings, by everything.

Too overwhelmed.

"Goodnight.." he returns a fragile smile to you and watches as you close the door, the creak of the wood failing to bring him some solace like he thought it would.

"I hope you get your wish soon."

He would've. That was if you hadn't made it a hell of a lot harder for him, dragging him back on this earth to be shackled another day. His longing to escape the ground from below, his refusal to be consumed by the intense heat of his emotions again—they've all become increasingly difficult to preserve with your mere presence. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to you that you're the very hindrance to his path to freedom, the bane of his existence?

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to difficulty, though. No—that's something he's something he'd come to terms with a long time ago, to the fact that true freedom was never easily attained. But when the weight of such difficulty relentlessly pressed down upon him, he feels lost in the end. It feeds into hidden doubts, places in his mind where he doesn't want to wander.

Nikolai is nothing without his goal of freedom. Yet, tonight, you had torched a fear he dared to never confront—a paralyzing dread of inadequacy once the chains were removed.

What would it feel like? When would he know? What would he do?

Is freedom even real?

But amidst all this, the strange sense of security and comfort that also came with your presence was unforeseen. This mixture of emotions was something he couldn't quite solve, much like an intricate puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. That overwhelming, unidentifiable ache for something unknown he's experienced in the past is slowly creeping back into his core, but it seems more intensified around you for some reason—something both thrilling and terrifying.

He's getting too comfortable. He needed to save himself before it was too late.

But it was as if he couldn't help but get closer. To be able to see your face and hear your voice again was something he'd never find himself to be relieved over. He's never felt more pathetic and weak in his life over this very fact. It's like he turns into someone else when you're near him, awakening a dormant part of him—someone he had tucked away many years ago. He feels like a child again when he's with you, lively and unguarded, free from the weight of his burdens. Yet, he wasn't. He was exceptionally far from that reality.

You're making things unbelievably worse for him.

He doesn't think he's been this miserable in a long time.

Since..

Since...

How difficult things have come to be since his whole world had twisted into something indiscernible, burdened by troubles that seemed insurmountable. He doesn't want to believe that the light will evade him again, leaving him clinging to nothing but empty promises.

If only there was a way to reach the light without the danger of getting burnt.

He tries to distance himself from that lingering heat, but he knows deep down that avoiding the fire won’t extinguish its glow. It’s there, alive and threatening, every time you look at him with those gentle, unassuming eyes. And despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, he knows the blaze will one day demand to be felt.

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Sunshine and Sundresses

AN: All this is about is Chris wanting to fuck you while you're in a sundress lol. I'm somewhat in my Chris feelings right now so yay.

Synopsis: There's just something about the sight of you in a sundress that makes Chris lose all of his self-restraint.

Heads up: Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mostly pwp, Soft Dom! Chris, public sex, Chris and Reader remain mostly clothed, dirty talk, pet names, Daddy kink, fingering (f. receiving), praise kink, unprotected piv sex, biting (f. receiving), creampie,

Reader and Chris lick the other's cum off Chris's fingers (it'll make sense when you get there lol) and Chris plugs Reader after cumming inside of her.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Chris finds himself tripping over his words once again when he sees the bottom of your dress shift and ride up your thighs. This was getting ridiculous now.

He'd seen you in various outfits and states of dress over the months of your relationship, and, at the risk of sounding cheesy, he thinks you look beautiful no matter what you're wearing. However, he would be lying if he didn't find himself utter enthralled with you wearing sundresses in particular.

The two of you decided to go on a picnic since your schedules finally aligned, and Chris found himself completely tongue-tied when he was greeted with the sight of you in a pretty, yellow sundress that flitted against your fantastic thighs. He's also certain you're not wearing a bra that isn't helping the blood rushing to his dick.

"Chris?" You ask with a tinge of concern to your voice.

He needs to get his shit together. It's just a dress.

"Sorry, uh I was just saying that I'm glad that we finally got the chance to spend some time together," he responds, hoping you don't notice the breathlessness in his voice.

The smile you give him makes his heart rate pick up exponentially. It's only made worse when you cuddle further into his side and press a kiss against his jaw, "I'm happy we finally get to actually go on a date too. I've missed this."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming love he feels for you in that moment or just the simple desire to kiss you that compels him to angle himself to meet your lips.

He swallows the cute, startled noise you make, tightening his grip on your waist and deepening the kiss considerably. Rationally, he knows that the two of you probably shouldn't be making out so heatedly in a public park like this, but Chris can't bring himself to care as he rolls you onto your back. Groaning against your lips when the erection he's been fighting all day comes into contact with panty covered core.

He pulls back to catch his breath and stares down at your dazed face and freshly kissed lips, the tops of your tits being incredibly distracting with each laboured inhale you take. Well fuck. How is he supposed to stop now?

"You look so pretty," Chris breathes out, pressing delicate kisses to your jaw and reaching one of his hands down to grab a generous handful of one of your tits over the fabric of your dress.

"Ah, Chris, we're in public. Someone might see," you cry out, but he can tell you're trying to hold back. A self-satisfied smirk does cross his face when he feels your hands grip his back as he continues his assault on your throat and tit.

"We'll just have to be quiet then. You just look so beautiful that I couldn't help myself," he responds against your skin, groaning slightly as he fondles you.

He feels warmth course through his system at the shy expression on your face, shifting upwards to press a soft kiss against your lips as his hand moves from your chest to brush against your plush thighs. Chris strokes you through your panties lightly, his cock quickly becoming painfully hard as he swallows down all your moans and mewls and keens and, feels your nails digging into his broad, clothed back.

"Chris please," you moan out, your hips bucking up into his hand in search of more pressure.

"You know better than to call me by my name, princess," Chris softly chastises, slowing down his strokes in warning.

"No, Daddy, I'm sorry," you rush out so quickly and frantically that he almost misses what you say. However, when his brain is finally able to pull itself together, he groans and slots his mouth against yours once more. He moves your panties to the side and sinks two of his thick fingers inside of you, cock throbbing as your slick walls clench around them.

Chris is glad he had the foresight to kiss you before slipping his fingers inside of you because the moans and whines you let out likely would've gotten the two of you caught. He's a little disappointed that he won't get the chance to eat you out, but he didn't want to risk it. You two were already pushing your luck here. Instead, he focuses on opening you up with his fingers, curling them in the way he knows renders you thoughtless.

"Daddy, please. Want you in-inside me," you pull back and whine, reaching your hand down to stroke his cock over his pants.

It's Chris's turn to bite back his own sounds. Gritting his teeth from the toe-curling pleasure he feels from the pressure provided by your hand, his hips instinctively pressing into your hand in search of more relief.

"Wanna make sure you're stretched out properly. Don't wanna hurt you," he responds, his voice sounding strained to his own ears as he brushes your clit with his thumb.

"You-You won't hurt me, D-Daddy. I can t-take it," you whine, kissing and nipping at his jaw as you continue to palm him.

Chris can feel his resolve crumbling. A groan almost slipping from his mouth as your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and your mouth leaves hot kisses on his skin.

"Fuck, okay," he concedes, easing his fingers from your vice grip and sitting back so he could more comfortably tug off his pants. However, Chris is momentarily distracted by your juices coating his fingers. Impulsively, he shoves them in his mouth, moaning and his eyes fluttering shut. Your taste going straight to his cock, more pre-cum smearing his already sticky boxers.

Chris is brought out of taking in your taste by a very audible whine from you, eyes flying open to see you watching his mouth intently. You look completely frenzied as you watch him, your eyes completely glazed over and bruised lips parted.

He makes a mental note to eat you out properly later. For both of your sakes.

He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants, shoving them and his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free. The mewl you let out and the way your thighs spread further as your eyes remain glued to his cock does phenomenal things for his ego.

"Are you ready?" He asks, grabbing himself and lining his cock up with your entrance.

"Yes, please," you respond, desperation seeping into your voice. God, you're just so fucking cute and pretty and, you're all his.

"Okay baby," he coos, slowly easing his cock into you. Gritting his teeth as your slick, velvet walls grip his cock harshly but, he wants to make sure the stretch isn't too much for you all at once.

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand when your moans get a little too loud, worrying him that the two of you might be overhead. Not that he doesn't get it. He has to make a conscious effort to swallow down his own noises from the mind-numbing pleasure of finally being fully inside of you.

"You have to be quiet, Princess," he warns, though any sterness in his voice is severely undercut by how breathless he sounds, even to his own ears.

Your mewl is muffled by his hand, watery eyes locking on his when he begins to thrust into you. He bites down on your shoulder to try his best to silence himself, a guttural groan slipping past his lips when you clench around him particularly hard.

"Yeah, you like this don't you, baby? You were acting so scandalised earlier but, the way your tight pussy is gripping me tells me everything I need to know," he mutters against your skin, leaving soft kisses on the partially visible bite mark left on your shoulder.

Even though his hand is covering your mouth, he can clearly make out your pleads and moans. A few stray tears running down your face.

As much as Chris would love to take his time with you, he didn't want to risk getting caught. He fucked into you hard and fast, hoping against hope noone is around to hear the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your respective muffled moans.

He was getting close, the sight of your glossy, tear eyes and cleavage jiggling with each of his brutal thrusts certainly wasn't helping.

"You have no idea what seeing you in this fucking dress does to me," he mutters against your throat in between kisses and light nips.

"So fucking pretty. So sexy," he continues on, hissing through his teeth as you tighten around him with each word of praise that falls from his plump lips.

Your hand reaches up to grasp his wrist, trying to signal to him to take his hand off of your mouth. When he does, you pull him into another frenzied kiss. It's all teeth and spit and, Chris hurriedly reaches between your bodies to rub circles against your swollen clit.

Chris tries his best to muffle your whines of 'Daddy' and 'please' and, borderline incoherent moans. His eyes roll into the back of his skull when you cum around him. Your pussy gripping him so tightly that he can barely pull out but, he fucks you through it nonetheless. Cooing praises and encouragement to you as you ride it out, his hand grabbing your thigh as his own climax hits him like a train.

You both moan into each other as Chris's warm, thick cum floods your eager pussy. He shudders as you continue to clench around him all the while, seemingly trying your hardest to milk him for all of his cum.

He resists the urge to just continue lying here with you and sleepily exchanging kisses while you both bask in your respective afterglows. He grimaces as he pulls out of you, desire curling in his as he plugs you with his fingers to prevent any of his cum from leaking out of you. "Chris," you gasp out, your hips jolting against his hand.

"I want you to keep all of my cum inside you," he says with a dark edge to his voice, hurriedly putting your panties in place and pulling his fingers out of you. They're coated with his cum and he feels his sensitive cock twitch when you grasp his hand and put them in your mouth, eagerly licking his essence off of them.

Fuck, he loves you.

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale 16

Spoilers for ISAT/Two Hats!

Also got a cameo this time around! Readers of the Sifstem AU will likely recognize it~.

"Nille? Where are you going?" [You call out, noticing she had left your side and started walking towards the tree line off the path.]

"Oh... I don't know really, something was just, calling to me I guess?" [Nille said somewhat absentmindedly, still walking towards the thicket before her. You start after her once she vanishes into the woods.]

"N-Nille?!" [Oh stars, why is she the one vanishing now? Doesn't she know that's our job? You grumble to yourself and chase after. You start to notice a strange feeling as you grow closer... familiar yet unpleasant.]

"Vale! Over here!" [You hear her shout in the distance, passing through several trunks and bushes before finally stumbling into an opening beside her. You grumble even more and brush the leaves off yourself... then you notice the favor tree in front of you, and an odd stranger sitting at it's base. It sat in the exact same pose you used to... It perked up as it noticed you.]

"Huh? Oh! Oh oh hello!! Hello hello! Are you traveling too? I think I'm traveling. But I like this tree so I decided to stop! For now, at least."

[It spoke strangely, polite, deliberate, but also very scattered. It had hair like the night sky, a sea of black with white dots. Constellation lines dotted across it's face.]

"Yeah, we're looking for the saviors, my little sibling's been travelling with them." [Nille explains while you remain a step or two back. You stare cautiously at this stranger and the odd sensation they keep radiating.]

"Saviors? Saviors saviors. . . . Oh! Saviors! Of Vaugarde! Oh yes I remember them, or, a them, anyway. Were they the same saviors? No, there's only one set of saviors isn't there! Haha, silly me. Oh! You must have been walking a while, want to take a break? This tree is very good for taking breaks under."

"That sounds nice! Are you okay though? You seem a bit... discombobulated?"

"I really think we should be heading along actually, busy day and all!" [You try to excuse yourselves, almost dragging Nille away before she elbows you in the side.]

"Don't be rude, Vale!"

"Oh! Yes, sorry! I'm just a bit of a forgetfull mess, haha! Vale's the name? I like it! You should sit down and relax, it really is a nice tree, y'know. Oh! And what's your name!"

[You don't know what compels you, but you suddenly find yourself taking a seat opposite them.]

"Wh-How did you blinding do that?!"

"What are you going on about?! I'm so sorry about them, I'm Nille, what's your name?" [She says, taking a seat beside you, still giving you a confused and annoyed look.]

"Do wha- oh! It's quite alright, I'm Jinn! It's a great pleasure to meet you both!! You're looking for the saviors, right? Yes you said that, it was. . . Oh! You're looking for that kiddo Bonnie right?"

[Nille lights up at the mention of Bonnie.]

"Yeah! I guess the resemblance is pretty obvious, have you met them?!" [You continue to stare cautiously at this stranger, everything about it gave you pause... especially somehow knowing 'its' pronouns inherently now that you think about it.]

"Yes? No? I think so! Forgive me, my memory is hazy, haha. Oh! I do remember they are an amazing chef!! Who were they traveling with, again?"

[Nille looks to you expectantly, to which you roll your eyes and comply.]

"There's the fighter, the researcher, the house maiden, and the traveler." [You say with your arms crossed. Nille gives you another annoyed look.]

"You know you can use real names, right?"

"Oh! Oh of course! Haha of course you would know that. I think. I think?. . . . Names. . No middle name. . . No last name. . ."

"Wh-What did you just say?!"

"Yes, names, names, it was, was. . . Something, someth- Oh! Siffrin! That was it, yes! Oh! I'm remembering now, thank you! How could I forget! Oh dear, Vale, I'm so terribly sorry, it took me so long to recognize you! It really is a pretty name, you know. Picking out a third new name for yourself? Well it's just so. . . Vaugardian of you!"

"SHUT UP!! WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL OF THIS?!" [You shout as you jump to your feet, you try to summon your dagger, but you don't seem to have access to it anymore...]

"Vale, what the crab's gotten into you?!"

"IT KNOWS SOMETHING! IT KNOWS AND IT'S PUTTING ON THIS STUPID ACT!!"

"Oh Vale! Please, stop yelling. I'm trying to piece my own sentences back together and it's really not helping. And I'm sorry, Pétronille, for causing such a scene."

[You grab at your throat as you try to scream once more, though nothing comes out. You start to panic which only makes you wish to shout more.]

"... I don't think I told you my full name..."

"You didn't? Oh! Oh of course you didn't! I have so much to remember I forget that I don't remember! Ah, no, it's coming back to me, I am sorry. My name is Jinn! But, well, that's just a name. A name I like to go by. Most who know me know me as Keaoholo'oko'a. Sorry if that causes a headache, by the way."

[The word cuts through you like a knife. It doesn't hurt but it takes all the fight out of you. You slump back down to sitting and stare in awe at the 'stranger'.]

"Y-You're... oh stars..."

"Uhhh... What?" [Nille winces some as the word affects her a bit more negatively, shaking off the light pain.]

"Yes, stars indeed. I know it might be strange for me to say, but, truly I have as bad a memory for such things as you do. It's wonderful to finally meet you, in honesty, I was building up the courage. Although, I don't think I planned on meeting you per-chance like this."

"C-Courage?... Y-You were afraid to meet me?..."

"Okay someone's gotta explain to me what's going on. Who is this, Vale?"

"This is... uhhh... The Universe?..." [The words fall out of your mouth in disbelief, you could hardly believe it yourself.]

"... Riiiight..."

"Oh! Yes! Vaugardians do not know of my existance do they. A shame, the culture exchange used to be so vibrant! What a thing to see. . . Truly, Change can be so welcoming and nice. . . Hmm. . . How to explain. . . I would ask Vale too but, I'm not sure they would be much better."

"I am. . . Hmm. Everything that ever was and ever will be, everything in the night sky, the stars, and all of ones willpower and desier. Such as your Change God is a manifestation of entropy and change, I am that of all that currently is. Oh, oh I am really remembering things now."

"... Why do I actually believe that?"

"Because it's the truth, Now about you being scared to meet me?" [You ask almost excitedly. The universe had crabbed us over plenty in the past, and now it was scared of us?]

"A-ah, yes, well. . . . . . I'm sorry."

[As the sincere apology escapes its lips, you want to feel smug. You want to rub it in its face. You want to scream and smack them for everything they put you through... Yet that all just melts away, hugging yourself after a moment.]

"... I can assume what it is you're apologizing for, but honestly I'd really like to hear you say it..."

"R-right. . . I'm sorry, for being a terrible guide. A terrible god. I am to lead you, lead you all. To teach you, to help you grow as a person. I am the shepherd and you, and all from our home, are to follow."

"In return, I grant your wishes. If I do my job right, then such wishes will be trivial and easy things. Things that will not cause grief. But, I have failed. And three time's now a wish has nearly ended it all."

"... That... That means a lot to hear from you... Thank you. And hey, that last wish didn't turn out so bad, all things considered~!"

"You mean the one that crabbing killed you, Vale?!"

"Oh it's not like that's anything new for me~." [Nille seems unimpressed by your response.]

"I couldn't mess this one up! If I did I'd never live it down!! Do you like the new face? I can't claim credit for it, but, I do hope you don't feel. . . Wrong?"

"I couldn't be happier with it~."

"Definitely beats that torch light you were sporting before." [She chuckles out, causing you to smirk a bit.]

"Well that face served it's purpose anyway. Much as the one I'm wearing is now. . . . What do you plan to do, Vale? When you meet them again? Or do you plan on avoiding them forever."

"... I don't want to keep avoiding them, but I don't know what I'm going to do." [You admit, looking away rather ashamedly.]

"Perhaps, if you talk to your new companion about your deeper situation, she could help."

"Is it talking about your first two wishes?" [Nille asked, cautiously placing a hand on your shoulder. You allow her but still look away as you respond.]

"I'd rather we just leave that all in the past..."

"You and I both know it's going to come up. Wasn't the whole lesson of that misadventure to talk to those important to you?"

"Oh come on, you have to admit I'm miles ahead of how I was even just a couple weeks ago!"

"Wait... You're telling me they were worse than this?"

"Impossibly so! I truly am proud of how far they've come, but yes. They were much, much worse. I thought you would have talked to at least one of your companions before hitting the triple digits, but. . ."

[Nille grips your shoulder a bit tighter at that, though you only wish to escape this moment even more.]

"Those days are finally over, I'd greatly appreciate if we just move on..."

"Of course, of course. I am sorry. I will not push you to explain such things, although, it will come up in your future. It's up to you how it will."

[You just sit in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the topic to change. Nille takes the hint and sighs.]

"Well, if you're not gonna talk about it, then lets just move on. I don't suppose you can help me find Bonnie?"

"Hmmmmmmm well I coooould~ if you ask right. That's the issue with my existence, I'm bound by simple things. Changey is lazy, yes, but if they want to give you a gift they can just, do it. I have to wait for, well, the proper paperwork, in essence."

"Well that sounds easy eno-"

"NO! I'm sorry Nille, but you're not making a wish!" [You find yourself back on your feet, you leapt out of your seat before realizing it with your protest. She looks to you in shock and confusion.]

"Well why the crab not?! I need to find Bonnie and we're just going in circles at this point!"

"Wishes aren't just something to play with... I don't want you getting mixed up in all of this, you've seen how they can go..."

". . . I will admit, my ability to properly grant such things have only deteriorated since our home. . . Well, well I was proud I was able to grant your latest one correctly."

"Gruesome methods notwithstanding, it did turn out well in the end I guess... Alright, it's decided then~." [You say with your chipper mask slipping back on. You get up and start to look around the base of the tree.]

"What's decided? What are you doing?"

"Looking for a leaf, to make your wish~!"

"Wishing ritual, Pétronille, they are quite important for the craft. I imagine Vale can show you how. . . . I'll do my best not to. . . Ruin it."

"No, I'm taking this burden, I don't want Nille taking any risk over this."

"You don't gotta protect me Vale, I can handle myself."

"Well too bad, it's not happening and that's final~." [You tease with a confident grin. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, but does nothing more to object.]

"Now, any suggestions on the exact wording, Jinn?"

". . . Be true to what you want, try not to let other thought cloud what you truly want. Be honest. I. . . Cannot give much more than that. The intent and emotion behind the words matter as much as the words itself."

[You nod, finding a leaf that reminds you the most of Nille. You clear your mind before whispering softly into it thrice.]

"I wish for Nille to find Bonnie safe, sound, and soon." [You then fold it delicately and drop it at Jinn's feet.]

"You didn't need to do that... but thanks, Vay..."

"Anytime, Nille~."

". . . . . You are a very kind soul, Vale. You had both best be off, you'll see what I have for you soon enough. Oh! And before I forget, Pétronille. You are a wonderful sister, and Boniface cares for you very much. I'm glad I finally got to meet you after Changey got all gushy about you a while ago~"

"W-Wait, Ch-changey?... A-As in...." [Nille stammers out, looking like she just saw a ghost nearly.]

"Changey! Change god! Your god! The earings aren't for show, dear. They're just the absolute cutest. And with how brave you were when your home was frozen, to save your little sibling, oh it must have struck a chord."

[You only now realize it's wearing a pair of bonding earrings, one shaped like a star, and one shaped like the change symbol. Nille whispers to herself giddily.]

"Holy crab the change god was watching!!!"

"Well, it's been a surprising pleasure but I think that's enough god stuff for today!" [You remark, starting to push Nille along before anything else happens on this insane day.]

"I can use my own legs, Vale!"

"Good luck out there! If you need me, well, you know what to do~."

Thanks so much to @vulpixisananimal for helping me plan/write this out and Jinn's lines! Absolutely adore how all this went!~

[selfindulgentpixies]

Parchment and coffee stains

Almost Kaveh x GN!reader

possible Kaveh x Reader x Alhaitham in future parts if I continue

You're an artist to happens to see a pretty stranger in a cafe, through your art you find the courage to reach out.

Reader is shorter than Kaveh and described as not being from Sumeru.

This scenario was inspired by Kaveh's line in game about forgetting him umbrella.

word count: 1641

The blank page before you feels daunting even as you’re swaddled in the warmth of the cafe. You’re tucked away, alone in a corner with a fresh sheaf of drawing paper, the first page beneath the cover challenging you. This drawing would set the tone for the new sketchbook. You’re aware you’re being dramatic as you lay down the daunting object to pick up your coffee for a sip. The warmth spreading across your tongue comforting you amidst the chatter of the cafe’, while there’s the tell-tale pattering of rain against the stained glass behind your head. It makes you glad you decided to bring your umbrella just in case when you saw the heavy clouds on your way out the door earlier.

Amidst the sights and smells a laugh chimes above the soft din of chatter of the many students seated at various tables. Looking for the source you see a flip of golden hair complimented by a lovely blue feather that if you had to guess was a quill pen of some sort. The person, a man if you had to guess but couldn’t be sure, was stunning. Your fingers twitch for your pencil and your sketch book finds its way back into your hands. You don’t give it any thought really, people watching and drawing were fairly normal practice, but you almost felt compelled in this moment. You watch from the corner of your eye, pencil gliding across the page, the slope of his nose, the elegant column of his throat, a lock of artfully swooping hair. His burnt umber eyes beautiful in color framed by elegant lashes making you wish you’d brought your colored pencils or paints despite the impracticality of bringing them to a cafe.

You’re snapped out of your near meditative state when he gets up to leave. It’s a snap decision then when you move your pencil with a flourish in the corner of the page before beginning to quickly pack up your things. You doubt you’ll catch him before he vanishes into the bustling streets but you have to try.

You nearly stumble right into his back when you step out beneath the cafe’s awning. 

“-Oh no, I forgot to bring my umbrella” You catch him saying, dismay lacing his voice as he stares out at the rain now pouring onto the streets, flowing over stone tiles like a man made river.

At your side your fingers smooth over the handle of your umbrella before you step forward. Your heart flutters just like the sound of your umbrella opening. You lift your gaze in time with your umbrella as you bring it high enough to cover both of you if you were to step out into the rain at the same time. Your eyes meet. “If you don’t have too far to go I can walk you to wherever it is you need to go?”

Dark blonde eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “Oh goodness I couldn’t impose like that. I really appreciate it though.” And even if he says that  there’s clear doubt clouding his eyes as he looks into the downpour. 

“You’re not imposing if I’m offering. If you’re going somewhere in the city it’s no trouble at all to make sure you don’t get entirely soaked.” 

He sighs but smiles a little. “If you’re really sure.”

“I am,” you say with a nod, proud of yourself for getting up the courage to speak with this pretty stranger. Not only that but you’ve gotten yourself the chance to spend at least a short bit of time with him. 

You go to fall into step beside him as he steps out from the awning only to hear him hiss, one of the ribs of your umbrella catching his hair due to your difference in height. “Ah! I’m so sorry, here allow me to” -you both hold the umbrella steady so as not to tug on his hair further.

“It’s alright really,” he says as your hands brush while you gently free his hair. You rock back from standing on your toes to flats of your feet.

 “Maybe.. You should carry the umbrella instead?” you offer while hoping that heat in your cheeks isn't obvious to him. “I may be a bit too short to hold this above your head the whole way.”

His wince morphs into a lil smile and a laugh. “Yes I think that might be a good idea.” Lightly calloused fingers brush against your own as he takes the offered umbrella. “Shall we?” he nods toward the stone path. 

This time when the two of you step forward it’s much more successful, no tangled hair or embarrassment, just the muted sounds of footsteps on wet stone. He’s mindful despite his longer stride he walks at a pace that allows him to keep in step with you so that you stay dry. 

“How far is it that you need to go?”  You tilt your head a bit as you glance up at him.

“Not terribly far. The worst of it is that it’s a bit of an incline the whole way so I hope that’s alright with you.” 

“Oh! Not at all. I kinda figured we may have to do a bit of walking up and down. Sort of what I’ve come to expect in Sumeru city, “ you give a small shrug of your shoulders.

He nods. “Hmm. It’s better than stairs but it’s often not as accessible as it could be. A large elevator like in port Ormos could certainly be of benefit.” Somehow you get the feeling he was saying that more to himself than you.

“Something like that would be helpful, it would also be good for getting bulk goods around the city. There’s actually an elevator like that in Yilong Warf in the north most part of Liyue. It links the lower and upper sections of the city that are separated by a waterfall so it’s essential but some of it’s accessibility is hampered by the fact that you need to take stairs on and off of it. At least if I’m recalling correctly, it has been a bit since I was there.” You don’t miss the surprised shift in the man’s expression as he looks at you. 

“Accessibility in architecture is often something that gets neglected unfortunately, too many people get caught up in the aesthetics or practicality that only applies to the most able bodied, leaving the elderly or others with mobility issues to struggle-” this conversation continues most of the walk, you’d had no idea that you’d hit on a topic he’d have so much insight into nor so many opinions.  You didn’t mind listening to him though. You were getting the impression that he was someone who you’d enjoy hearing what he’d have to say on quite a lot.

As you walk alongside him, nodding in all the right places and adding your thoughts where you can, your fingers play against the clasp of your satchel. Your sketch book tucked securely inside along with the portrait you’d sketched out of the man. What would he think of it? Would it be too weird to show him? Would he be offended you drew him? Upset you didn’t ask? Or would he be flattered? Nevermind how some people feel about the arts in Sumeru still, though he seems like someone who appreciates them if anything.

You’re only pulled from these thoughts when for the second time today you nearly walk into him just as he turns to face a pretty lil house. Your journey ending much like it started with the two of you standing under an awning. “And here we are. Thank you lending me your umbrella and sorry if I talked your ear off.” 

“Ah no worries, it was no trouble. And honestly you were really interesting to listen to.” You chew at your lower lip. “Before I go.. And I hope this isn’t too weird.. I want to give you something,” as you speak you open your bag and pull out your sketch book, opening it and delicately pulling out the page to hand to him. Those pretty umber eyes of his widen as he takes the portrait in his free hand. Clearly taken aback to see himself in a candid moment of joy. 

As he works to find his words and your stomach swims with butterflies the front door to his home opens, revealing another attractive man though this one had a more intimidating air to him. “Ah Kaveh, there you are-” he looks from Kaveh and the portrait to you and back again. “And who’s this?” 

“O-oh i’m uh, actually i’m just leaving,” You squeak in a way that has you kicking yourself. “ You can keep the portrait and uh, take care now!” And with that you're turning on your heel into the rain, slipping in your haste but keeping your balance enough to not land on your ass and make your retreat into the rain. Without your umbrella. Your umbrella still in the man’s, Kaveh’s, hand. 

“Hey wait!” He goes to step after you. You ignore him, all your courage from before gone. Later you’ll kick yourself for running off like this but for now you continue on. As you vanish his shoulders sag. “And they’re gone… I didn’t even get their name.” 

Alhaitham leans over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I assume they drew this right?” Without actually touching the page his index finger underlines the quick signature you’d made in the cafe’ before following Kaveh. 

“Oh!” Kaveh reads your name outloud, almost tasting it. “There aren’t too many foreign artists here in Sumeru, and with a name you should at least be able to return their umbrella.”

To say you feel stupid and embarrassed as you stand soaked in your lodgings would be an understatement.

Ahhh I hope you guys enjoy this. It's very self indulgent as it's how i imagine myself meeting Kaveh and by extension Alhaitham. I may expand on this and give everyone a part 2. Really this is disaster artist for disaster artist and the man who keeps them balanced.

Special thank to @threnodians for reading over my fic and for making me these dividers

Tag list: @kaedescara @pastelle-rabbit @kweenkatsuki-fics @zorosdimples @strawberrystepmom

[oldiesstationlover11607]

For you - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: angst and cliffhanger ending, tyler crying :(

Word Count: 1710

Summary: A few weeks after graduating high school you break the news to your best friend Tyler that you're leaving Columbus.

Part 2

Summer 2006

Tyler and I had been friends since we were six, and nothing ever changed between us. It had been two weeks since we’d graduated high school, and we’d decided to go on a road trip. While most of our friends had already chosen which colleges they wanted to attend, neither Tyler nor I had made a final decision yet—except I’d just made mine that morning.

We’d parked our car at the entrance to a forest about an hour from Columbus and walked into the greenery. It was a warm day, so I was wearing a t-shirt I’d gotten on a Disney World trip with Tyler and my family, and he was wearing a black muscle shirt that showed off the tattoos he’d gotten the day we graduated, the ink still vibrant.

“I still can’t believe you got those,” I laughed, closing the car door.

“I still can’t believe my mom didn’t kill me the second she saw them,” he quipped, leading the way to the trail. “Have you thought much about what you’re going to do now that we’re done with school?”

I knew he was going to ask that question. I’d deliberately chosen not to tell him when I saw him that morning. When he realized I wasn’t answering, he turned around and looked at me, giving me a look that screamed, “I can read your mind.” His hair was short, initially buzzed to keep it out of his face for basketball, but it had grown out since. I looked into his eyes, which compelled me to tell him everything; the look on his face begged, “Please.”

“Come on, Ty. We don’t need to talk about that right now,” I muttered and continued to walk on until he grabbed my hand.

“Don’t hide things from me, Y/N. We don’t do that,” he said. I pulled my hand out of his grip and let out a loud sigh. He had a point. I’d never kept a secret from Tyler, and when I did have one, he was the first person I told. We were always vulnerable with each other, too. Whenever he was struggling, he’d come and talk to me. He’d even share his music with me despite feeling embarrassed about it because he was ��supposed to be a jock.’

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed at that. “How on earth would you hurt me? It’s not like you’re leaving, right?” I didn’t say anything. I stood there staring at him with a saddened look on my face, which seemed to be contagious. “It’s not like you’re leaving, right?” he repeated.

“Tyler…” I reached out to him, but he moved away. My worst fear had come true. He hated me.

“You promised me… you said you’d always be here for me, Y/N. You know I need you!” His eyes quickly turned glossy with tears welling up. I had promised that. But I also knew that I couldn’t always be there for him.

“I only got into one school, Ty! What else am I supposed to do? You know I want to do film,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“You’re supposed to stay in Columbus with me!” he shouted back, two tears running down his face.

“It’s gonna to be okay, Tyler,” I moved closer to him, and the tears started pouring down his face, prompting me to bring him into a tight embrace. He started sobbing, bringing the reality of how much I meant to him to the front of my mind. I really hadn’t thought we were that close. He pulled away slightly from me and looked desperately into my eyes, his hands coming up and cupping my face in the most intimate way he’d ever treated me.

“I need you, Y/N. Don’t leave me alone.” I leant my forehead against his, my right hand cupping the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, Ty,” I whispered, closing my eyes. This was the moment he decided to press his lips to mine in a quick kiss, the saltiness of his tears bringing a depression to an otherwise desperate attempt to make me his. His lips were softer than I had expected them to be. I’d known Tyler through both of his high school girlfriends, and he’d never treated any of them like this before. I pulled away from the kiss, my eyes searching for some kind of explanation.

“Stay with me. I love you,” he pleaded.

“You know I can’t,” I responded, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too.”

We spent the rest of the day walking through the forest and talking about the future. I’d decided to move to California and attend UCLA’s Film School on an arts scholarship. He still didn’t know what to do now that school was over; basketball was his life in school, but he didn’t want to keep doing it forever. We’d ultimately decided to make the most of the summer and make memories while we could, which resulted in a summer romance between us—the very thing I least expected when I’d woken up that morning.

The day I left for California was hard on Tyler, but I’d made sure to prepare him.

“Are you sure you have to go?” he asked, sitting on my bed while I packed my bags.

“You already know the answer to that. But you know we’ll text every day,” I looked up at him. We’d agreed to end the relationship when I left; four years on the other side of the country would make a serious relationship between us impossible, and we didn’t want to break up on bad terms. “Hey, don’t you have that music thing next week?” Tyler had met some people over the summer who were in local bands and had started attending gigs on the weekends.

“Yeah, but I’ll be too depressed missing you to write anything at the damn workshop,” he’d now rolled over onto his back and was looking at me upside down off the edge of the bed. We both knew that every second we had would be our last, and it was bringing the feeling in the room down.

“I’m proud of you, Ty. You know that, right?” He rolled back onto his stomach and jumped up in front of me.

“Yeah, I know, babe,” he used the one nickname I’d earned over the summer. He was the only one to ever call me that, and I loved him for it.

“I mean it. You’re going places.” I smiled up at him before pulling him in for a final hug. He pressed a kiss to my right temple before whispering, “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I love you,” I whispered back before pulling away to grab my suitcase and getting into my car. “Text me every day, Ty, and never ever stop dreaming.”

Summer 2012

I hadn’t spoken to Tyler in three years. He stopped texting me as we both got busier with school and work. The last I’d heard from him, he had formed a band with two of his community college friends, but in a call from my mom, she had told me it wasn’t working out. Other than the occasional call with my mom, I had no idea what was going on back home. For the last few years, I’d worked in the film industry as both a writer and director for short films, but no big projects had come out of it. I was sitting in my apartment eating breakfast on my first Saturday off in a month, ironically scrolling through my emails. Everything was from producers, except for one email from an address I was unfamiliar with: “Reel Bear Media.” I laughed at the film pun before opening the email addressed to “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

My name is Mark. You don’t know me, but I’ve heard a lot about you from one of my clients. I’m well aware that you’re currently based in Los Angeles, California, but I have a work opportunity I’d like to offer you. I currently work as a content producer for an Ohio band with a small but rapidly growing fan base. I’d like to offer you the job (at the request of the front man) as a touring videographer for the band ‘Twenty One Pilots.’ I’ve attached my contact information and some of my photos if you’re interested.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Mark Eshleman”

I scrolled down to look at the attached photo file to come face to face with the boy—now man—I hadn’t seen in around six years.

He’d finally done it. Tyler had finally had the opportunity to make his music. He’d met someone–who I was sure he got along well with–who could truly help him succeed. I pulled out my phone and dialled the saved number I had for Tyler, praying that he hadn’t changed it. The phone rang once, twice – I looked at the clock to make sure the time zones were right – three times. 

“Hello?”

“Tyler?” I crossed my fingers, hoping it was him. 

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it?” the sound of his voice had changed, deeper than the last time I’d heard it. I could hear the sound of his smirk, confidence sounded good on him. 

“I got the email from Mark. I can’t believe you remembered I did film, let alone even thought of me,” I spoke, the tone of surprise very clearly sounding through the phone. I could hear his laugh come through the speaker. 

“Of course I thought of you. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you.”

I grinned.

“I take it you’re coming then?”

I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me at all but knew exactly what I was doing. “Flights are booked then. Be at LAX at 12pm and Josh and I will be at the airport in Columbus as soon as you land.” I couldn’t believe he had the power to book plane tickets that quickly and pick exactly who he wanted as part of his project. 

“I'm so excited to see you! I just know Josh is gonna love you,” he spoke.

“Sorry, who’s Josh?”

//

A/N: I really really loved writing this one. It went from something I wasn't too sure about into something super cute ngl. I'll probably write a part two if people want it so make sure to either request it in the question box or comment below if you're keen. Also, please don't repost my writing onto other platforms because I do work hard to come up with these stories!

Thanks for reading <3

[foxyarchive]

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P1

You're an average young woman, just trying to live your life. After almost meeting your untimely demise one night, you're saved by a foul-mouthed divine being who claims to be your Guardian Angel, AND the first man.

OR; Adam is your Guardian Angel who swoops in to save you when you need it, and also pesters you whenever he feels like it. This arrangement is fun for neither of you.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive comments, Adam being Adam.....

Words: ~7K

May end up being a two parter because that's all I have ideas for, but definitely down to write more of Reader and Adam together if you all wanna send me ideas here or on my AO3! Enjoy!

P1 | P2 | P3

Today had, certainly, been one of the days of all time. 

It had started off with the coffee maker essentially breaking. You’d managed to get about half of a cup of the normal amount of coffee you made while you were throwing together some breakfast for yourself. When you’d went over to investigate to try brewing again, nothing was happening. If the red, soulless, blinking light on your maker was anything to go by, it was that the damned thing had died. 

With a sigh, you ended up pouring an overabundance of your preferred mix-in while eating your quick little breakfast. You were already running a bit behind. In a rush to finish getting ready, you’d ended up smudging a bit of the lipstick you had put on, forcing you to be even more behind as you needed to clean it off and reapply anything necessary. 

You’d finally grabbed your bag and were out the door, and when you got in your car, saw that you were nearly out of gas. You tried to think; What in the Hell would compel you to leave your car on nearly empty and not fill up after work? It was then, you recalled, wanting to catch the season finale of a show last night with your friend. You’d hurried home, and had just said to yourself you’d wake up early this morning and fill up before going to work. 

Of fucking course today had to be the day you woke up a bit later after staying up unusually late last night. A groan split from your throat, rubbing your temple with two fingers. You hadn’t packed a lunch, either, so guess you were going hungry most of the day beside some of the snacks in your drawer. You wouldn’t have enough time to get gas and lunch on your break. At this point, all you could do was pray that you’d be able to make it to a gas station after work. You did have an… Unconventional guardian angel, after all, so surely it would all work out…

Speaking of guardian angel…

“Yo, I don’t know if you can, uh, hear me right now… I mean, I assume you can, if you’re, like, kinda omnipotent or whatever, but… Try and make my day a little better, alright?” You said, somewhat awkwardly to the empty air around you in your car as you drove to work. No response. You felt like a mad woman. 

With a sigh, you just continued your drive. Finding parking at the office went awful, no surprise, and you walked in about seven minutes after you were supposed to clock in. Your boss didn’t say anything, but the stare given to you was enough to know that your tardiness was apparent. All you could do right now was just keep your head down and check your emails from your clients and work diligently. 

Thankfully, the day was going by smoothly… So far. Besides needing to put a fire via email, and your pencil cup holder being somehow knocked over twice mysteriously(you sent a glare over your shoulder every time but didn’t see anyone), you had nothing else to complain about. That was, until just before lunch, you felt a cramp. At first, you thought it was a hunger pain, and tried to shift to brush it off. The more you cramped, though, you felt it lower in your gut, and your heart sank. No shot, your cycle wasn’t supposed to be for another few days!

You cursed to yourself, deciding to take an early lunch to check. You shuffled through your drawer to see if you had anything– Tampons, pads, a cup, something to try and stop the flow while you were at work. Nothing. Great. You grumbled to yourself, getting up to head to the bathroom. The company you worked for was fairly small, the middle ground between a small business owner and a blossoming corporation, so nothing for feminine sanitation was available in either bathrooms.

Sitting down in the restroom, you shucked your pants and underwear down, groaning at the sight of a faint bit of blood splattering your underwear. “Motherfu…” Your grumble trailed off whilst you  suppressed the urge to rub at your face in frustration. Instead, you just made a rather unsavory hand gesture with both of your hands to nobody in particular. Well, actually, yes there was somebody in particular, but you couldn’t see him right now. You weren’t even sure if he could see you, but it certainly made you feel better. 

Stifling a groan, you wrapped some toilet paper around your underwear to try and soak up anything for now. After you were redressed and hands were washed, you headed back to your desk to eat a measly granola bar and some dried fruit, before clocking back in and continuing on with your day. 

After getting yelled at over the phone by a client for something that wasn’t even your fault, as well as accidentally spilling some water over your keyboard while staying late, work was over for the day. You were just looking forward to going home, taking a nice, hot shower, and watching whatever brain rot you decided to indulge in tonight. Maybe with some ice cream. You were once more reminded, though, that you needed to get gas in your car once you got in and started it up. The nearest gas station wasn’t incredibly close, so you were biting your lip the entire time you drove there. 

You nearly slumped in relief when you saw it right around the corner, but any relief that was in your veins washed away as you pulled up just inside of the parking lot, and your car began to roll. You pushed on the gas rapidly, but nothing was happening. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck–” You began to freak out, before relaxing somewhat. It would just… Roll to one of the pumps, right? Wrong, apparently. Oh, so, very wrong. There was a slight incline upwards to the gas pumps, and to your horror, the car started to even roll backwards. 

“No!” You gasped, quickly putting it into park. You took in a small, shuddering breath, putting it back into drive as you tried to push on the gas again. Nothing. You’d run out literally right inside the gas station lot. Due to leaving work later than normal because of not only coming in late, but needing to deal with an unruly client, nobody else was here at the moment. Nobody could help you. For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, another groan left your lips as your head slammed back against the carseat head. 

With now an annoyed snarl, you pushed open your car door, slamming it as you walked around to the back of your car after putting it in neutral. “Okay… Okay, I can do this… Just a small nudge up the hill… It’s barely a hill, too, it’s fine, I can move a couple hundred… Thousand…” You uttered to yourself, trying to hype up as you shifted foot from foot. After some brief stretching, you placed your hands on the back of your car, beginning to slowly push it. Or, well, at least try to push it. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t even notice a figure pop up beside you. 

“‘Sup.” Adam greeted, causing you to gasp and nearly slip and fall in surprise. 

“Adam! Good God you have shitty timing.” You groaned, slumping against the back of your car. You were already exhausted and you hadn’t even been trying to push for two minutes!

“Hey, what’d I say? Good girls only get into Heaven by not using the Lord’s name in vain.” He drawled, boredly, leaning against the side of your car as he looked over his nails. Well, more aptly, his fingers. He had gloves on, after all, so obviously it was just for show, and it just irritated you more. About to bite out a response, he beat you to it by finally surveying the situation. “Pfffft–” Came from him as he grinned, before he started to laugh, backing away from your car and pointing at you. “What– What the fuck are you doing? Did you run out of gas?”

“S-Shut up!” You snapped, face flushing warm in embarrassment as he laughed at you, but he didn’t yield. You stomped your foot in irritation, a small whine leaving your throat as you realized just how stupid the whole situation was. “It’s not funny!”

“Hah– Haha– I hate to tell you, sugartits, but it’s actually hilarious.” He finally calmed down, wiping an invisible tear from his face with a sigh and smug smile, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem to be phased by your anger at all. “Aww, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He inched towards you, ignoring your seething expression as he patted your head. “Like a wittle angwy kitty–” 

“Fuck you.” You snarled out, slapping his hand away as you turned back to your car, and he was the one who scoffed like he’d been offended. The nerve. “Some fuckin’ angel you are, laughing at my misery.” You grouse, turning back to your vehicle, placing your hands on the back once more. 

He just offers a roll of his eyes. Or, well, what appears to be a roll with the incline he makes with his head. He doesn't have pupils, after all. “Babes, it’s not the first time I have, and it’s definitely not gonna be the last.” Comes his response, and he seems once more impassive to the glare you send him before you focus back ahead. “I mean, c’mon, I already gotta look after your ass, I wanna get some amusement out of it. Speaking of looking at ass…” You’re bent forward again, trying to push the car forward with all of your might. You did manage to roll it maybe a few inches, but it once again left you exhausted. You caught Adam looking at your butt with an appreciative view on his face. “You should wear shorter skirts–” He begins to speak, but you cut him off this time. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” You snip, bristling at his suggestive commentary as you stand here and struggle your way forward. “If you’re just going to stand there and be inappropriate, then will you kindly piss off?” You huff, looking back at your car once more. 

“Fine, be a cunt, see if I care.” He scoffs out in response, flipping you the bird as he turns away. It’s then, suddenly, you realize maybe work has really dulled your mind. He’s your guardian angel, it’s his job to help you!

“Wait, wait!” You sigh out, exasperated, as you turn and grab for him, thankful he didn’t just poof away yet. You reach for his robes, but end up grabbing one of his wings as they flared out, yanking back. 

“Ow, bitch, watch the feathers!” He snarls out, turning on you with a glare of his own. He draws his wing over to him, brushing his hand against it with a sneer as he looks down at you. “The fuck you want? Want to apologize for your bratty behavior?” He huffs, and you can’t suppress a roll of your eyes, try as you might. 

“No, I’d like your help in pushing my car up to a pump.” You’re growing more and more weary by the minute. How has literally nobody else pulled into the gas station? At this point, maybe you should just ask the worker inside to help you. He just crosses his arms, raising a brow at your request. 

“And why should I help you?” He decides to play coy, and you grit both your jaw and hands into fists. 

“Because you’re my guardian angel! You’re literally supposed to help me!” Comes your snappy response, and he taps a finger to his chin, pondering with a ‘hmmm’, as if actually thinking about your response. 

“Mmm… Yeah, nah, babes, not how that works. What part of ‘guardian’ do you not fuckin’ understand? You want a dictionary, bitch?” He snaps his fingers, the thick book appearing in his hand in a puff of golden dust as he offers it out to you. “Why don’t you look up the definition of it and study up?” You eye twitches as you none too kindly shove his arm away from you that offers you the dictionary. 

“I know what it means, I don’t need to look it up!” You hiss out. You’re almost on the verge of tears, now, as the frustration burns through your entire being. You’re hungry, cramping and aching, and stressed out about this whole thing. You’re not sure if Adam seems to notice this, with the slight way you see the hard edges around his smug grin soften some. Either he doesn’t care or notice, though, as you continue on. “I could be in danger! I-I mean, if I don’t move the car, someone will pull forward, and if they don’t pay attention they could run right into me! Then I would be hurt! And maybe even die!” You emphasize with a wave of your hands. 

He doesn’t seem very moved by your speech, the book disappearing from his hands as he crosses his arms once more. “Mm… Kay, then I’ll just pluck you out of the way. I mean, I don’t see what you’re getting at here, ‘tits. Sounds like you want me to do all the work for your fuck up.” He motions lazily with a hand towards the car, and boy if you weren’t ready to burst into tears before, you are now, because, honestly? He’s right. You’re the reason you’re in this mess. He’s clearly soaking up your suffering as well, a sly smile slowly spreading across his features as he sees you try to blink back tears of frustration. 

He finally takes some pity on you. Well, what Adam would consider pity, at least. “What’s in it for me, huh?” He leers, taking a step over you. He towers over you easily, inhumanly tall. Whereas it intimidated you at first, now? It just pisses you off more, because it’s something else he has to lord over you. You don’t know why he does when he’s already some super powerful angel, according to him, but he clearly likes to put you in your place. Remind you you’re just some mortal human in a realm of other, shitty mortal humans. 

So, when he asks what he gets out of this, you’re at a loss. You open your mouth, closing it, frowning. What could you offer someone like Adam? You peer up at him, not liking the way that sly grin on his face grows, somewhat leering even, now. “Well… What do you want?” You finally ask, and immediately regret it as his hand comes down to grope your ass. You squeak, more so from the grip than surprise, because really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Something that’s not part of my body! I’m on my period, too.” You huff out, face and ears burning, and he immediately makes a face and retracts his hand. 

“Hmmm…” He rubs his chin in thought, actual thought now, as he turns to pace. His wings are tucked back under his arms, which you keep meaning to ask it about because truthfully, you find it adorable. You didn’t think angels presented their wings like that, but it makes some sense. “Oh! What was that, fucking uuuhhh… Ice cream thing with the fudge in the middle? With all that candy shit on top?” He snaps his fingers, looking back at you. You draw a blank, briefly, before recognizing what he’s talking about. 

“You mean… A blizzard?” You ask, slowly, and he grins, nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, yeah! Buy me one of those and I guess we’ll call it the start to being even.” He states, and your eye twitches again. 

“The ‘start’?” You emphasize, and Adam just waves his hand dismissively. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, the other thing I phone in will be somethin’ simple. Promise promise.” He insists, and at this point, you’re so desperate you don’t question it. You did say you wanted ice cream, after all… You’re also sure he wouldn’t ask for anything absurd either. 

“...Fine.” You relent, motioning him over as you make some room to push the car once more. He pushes you out of the way, though, with one of his brilliantly golden wings, causing you to sputter as some of the feathers poke into your mouth and nostrils. 

“Get in the car, bitch. Guide us over to a pump.” He orders, and a huff leaves you, but you don’t resist. You’ll gladly take sitting in the car and turning the wheel over pushing with massive manual labor. Once in the driver's seat, you begin to turn the wheel enough to pull into one of the pump stations. Adam is… Freakishly strong, to no surprise, and it honestly feels like you’re actually driving with how fast the car is going. Driving at an incredibly slow speed, but one nonetheless. When you finally stop at a pump, you put the car in park with a sigh, feeling significantly more relieved and less stressed. 

You get out, locking it up as you head for the gas station store. “Uh, you’re fuckin’ welcome!” You hear Adam scoff, and you suppress a roll of your eyes if only because he did actually help you out. 

“Thank you, Adam.” You relent, turning around. “So very kind of you, I would be at a loss without you.” Is tacked on at the end, and he just smirks, strutting over to you. 

“I know. I’m the best. Doncha forget it, sugartits.” He responds as a sigh leaves you. 

“You want a snack?” You offer out, deciding to play nice, and he grins. 

“Uh, fuck yes.” He agrees, perking up even more as you both walk into the convenience store. You decide to get an electrolyte drink for yourself, since you’re feeling awfully thirsty and tired. Adam grabs some beef jerky, and as you go to the counter to pay, he speaks up. “Shit, wait, hold on– I want those cheesy crackers.” He states, and you roll your eyes but wait as the cashier rings up your other items. You hold your hand out as Adam comes back over, taking the bag in your hand to offer up to the cashier, digging through your wallet to get out something to pay 

When you realize the bag hasn’t been taken out of your hand, you look up, confused. The cashier looks at you, his eyes wide, mouth agape. “Um…” You shift, awkwardly. Did you have something on your face?

“The fuck is this guy’s problem?” The angel barks out behind you, and you set the bag down, watching the cashier’s eyes follow it incredulously. Your brow furrows, before you suddenly put two and two together. 

“Oh, shit,” You utter out in realization. Adam had given you that bag. And you were the only one who could see Adam. Oh God, that isn’t good. 

“This guy have shit-for-brains? Seriously, if he stares any longer, he’s gonna start drooling, and–” You shift your leg back, pressing down somewhat firmly onto Adam’s foot. “Hey, bitch, watch where you’re stepping! You just–” You turn around to face him, but purposefully look right through him. Towards where he’d grabbed the bag, and then you tap it slightly. You hope he can get it through his thick skull what you’re trying to imply. “...Ooohhh…” It finally dawns on him, his eyes widening as he looks at the isle, and then at you, then at the worker. “Oh, shit.” He echoes you, before he briskly moves you aside again with his arm. “Move, bitch, let me handle this.”

He stands in front of the worker, snapping his fingers in front of the cashier’s face, a puff of golden dust emanating from his hand. The other human blinks, a glazed look coming over his eyes as he stares at nothing in particular now. “Okay, let’s go, he won’t remember a thing.” Adam urges, and you stutter. You barely have time to slap down some money on the counter and grab your things before you’re shuffled outside. You’re antsy as you pay at the pump and put in your gas, and when you’re filled up enough you get in the car and drive off. 

“You can’t just do shit like that, Adam!” You finally speak up once you’re driving away, the firstborn lounging in your backseat due to just being too big to sit up front. 

“I fuckin’ forgot, okay!?” He huffs out, his wings fluffing out indignantly as he sprawls out. You slap one of his wings back as it curls forward and brushes against your head and neck, not only making you shiver, but blocking you from seeing out your review mirror and back window. 

“Wings down in the car, what have I said before!?” You chastise, and he just scoffs, sitting up, hunching forward as he rests an arm on your middle console. 

“Jeeze, chillax, babes! I wiped his mind, he’s not going to remember it, why you still got your panties in a twist?” He sneers, and you growl out, carefully maneuvering to grab one of the horns on his head to push it down more. “Hey, hey, hey, fuckin’ watch the mask, bitch! You don’t get to manhandle the original dick!” 

“I can’t fucking see with your giant ass head in the way!” Your clipped response comes out, before you realize something. “Wait– This is a mask?” You’re still holding onto one of the horns, and shake it a bit. He growls out and swats your hand away, which you don’t fight against as you put your hand back on the wheel. 

“Pfft, uh, yeah? What, did you think this was actually my face?” He’s resting his head on the console now, pointing to his apparent mask, smirking up at you. You flounder, briefly, mouth opening, before it closes. 

“...I mean. Honestly? Yeah. You eat with it. How does that even work!?” You glance at him, eyes wide, and his smirk just lengthens. 

“Angelic magic, ‘tits. Fancy as fuck and cooler than anything you mortals got down here in your sorry realm.” He enlightens, and you don’t have a smart comeback for that because he’s right. 

“...Pretty cool, actually. Can I have one someday?” You ask, and he curls himself back, splaying out once more across your car’s back seats. 

“Maaaaybe. Usually only the big dogs like me get somethin’ this sick.” He responds, shifting multiple times to try and get comfortable. You just roll your eyes as you pull up to the drive-thru, waiting your turn, before glancing back at him. 

“Can I see your real face?” You decide to inquire, and he raises a brow at your question, now chewing none-too-quietly on some beef jerky. 

“Uh, you wanna owe me more?” He snorts, and you just scoff in reply, looking ahead as you pull up a bit more. 

“Didn’t realize I’d have to owe you for you taking your mask off.” You mutter out, and he laughs somewhat, sitting up with another fluff of his wings. You don’t call him out on it for now since you’re just sitting in line. 

“Can’t get something for nothing, babes. Not a whole lotta people get to see the OG’s face, and I don’t think some fuckin’ mortal is gonna see it.” He chews some more on his snack, and you hold your hand out for a piece. He glares at you, before relenting and handing you a small strip, which you gnaw on to sate your hunger. May as well pick up dinner here too, then. 

“I’m just ‘some fuckin’ mortal’ to you?” You scoff in response, placing a hand to your chest in faux offense. “I thought what we had was special, Adam!” He rolls his eyes at your theatrics, flicking your head, and you scowl in response. 

“Nah, you ain’t special, bitch. Well, I guess you are maybe a little. After all, not everyone’s guardian is–”

“The original dick, yeah, yeah, I get it.” You grouse, and now he looks offended that you interrupted him, before shrugging it off because clearly what he’s saying means something. He goes quiet, though, as you pull up to order. You get him a blizzard, and yourself some ice cream as well as dinner. 

“Hey, wait, I want something else!” He whines, shoving his head forward once again, and you frown, looking at him. God, how much could he eat? “Gimme uhhh… That! And, oh, also that!” He’s pointing at items on the menu, moreso the pictures, and you glare at him. You can’t speak, as the woman through the speaker could still hear you, and he just looks at you. “What? Order, bitch, there’s people behind you!” You just continue to glare, and he glares back, eyes squinting. “Uggghh, what do you want from me? I can’t fuckin’ pay, I don’t have your stupid Earth money.” Still silence. The woman at the speakers asks if you want anything else, and you tell her to hold on as you stare Adam down. 

He taps his finger on your console impatiently, before groaning and throwing his head back. “Fine! This can be the other part of what you owe me.” He sighs out, and you decide to cut your losses and accept that. You turn back to the speaker, ordering what he wants as well, before driving forward, waiting for the car ahead of you to get their food. 

“Do you think I’m made of money or something? I’m barely making ends meet.” You speak up, finally, rubbing one of your eyes as you try to stave off the tired ache in your body. Your cramps are starting to kick back up, too, and that’s definitely not helping. 

“Sounds like a you problem.” Is all Adam replies as he leans back again, and your jaw grits. 

“It is a me problem, so I can’t keep buying you stuff you probably get for free up in Heaven!” You growl out, irritation with him flaring once more. Asshole is so ungrateful… Why did you even buy him anything? “Do you even have to pay rent in Heaven?” You then ask, and he laughs. 

“Fuck no!” He grins, before pausing. “Well, sorta. You get like, a free place and whatever, but if you want somethin’ bigger and better you gotta pay for it.” He explains, and you frown at that. 

“So, wait. You do gotta work in Heaven?” You blanch, because that sounds awful. Great, you have something to not look forward to even after you die, now. Well, if you want to Heaven, anyways… You have a guardian angel, so you assume that you will, but Adam is hardly angel material. In fact, you’re starting to wonder if this is a test from the Heavens, seeing how much good will you have to not snap and throttle your guardian…

“Sorta?” He gives the same response, picking at his teeth– Mask?-- With his pinky. He doesn’t even look at you. “You don’t gotta. You can just walk around and do whatever you want, but some stuff you gotta actually pay for. Luxuries, like certain entertainment, shops, establishments… You get the idea.” He finally looks at you, resting his hands on his stomach as he leans against the door of your car. 

You turn back ahead as the vehicle in front of you pulls forward. “Huh…” You mutter, thoughtful. Well, you hoped you could at least be good at something else in Heaven, because you were definitely not wanting to do the job you had currently up after crossing the pearly gates. You hand your card over to the cashier to pay, and put all the food in the front seat. Adam subtly reaches for his blizzard, which you slap his hand away subtly. No way you’re driving around with what would look like a floating ice cream to everyone else. He pouts, but doesn’t complain, and you drive off after you have everything. 

The distance from your apartment to the fast food place you just stopped at is short, and already worn out by today’s events, you just opt to turn on the radio and listen to music. Adam takes over, of course, turning it onto some barely withstandable hard rock as he jams out in the back seat with an air guitar. You try and not let any tired, resting bitch face take over, but it’s so, so difficult to. Once you park in your spot, it’s already decently late. It’s dark out, and you don’t see anyone else around, so you let Adam help you carry your food. 

You look up, able to see your balcony from where you’re standing, and grimace at the thought walking three stories. The elevator it is, then, you decide with a heavy sigh. “Alright, up ya go.” Adam suddenly speaks up, and you’re confused, until you feel an arm wrap around your middle. 

“What do you– meeeeeaaaannn!” You suddenly shriek out as his wings flare, and he pushes himself and you effortlessly upwards with a beat of them. Seconds later, you land on your balcony with him, trembling, cold and startled at the sudden interaction. 

“Theeeere ya go, sweet-tits, saved ya some time, didn’t I? I know, I know, I’m the greatest.” He grins, puffing out of existence, before he reappears inside of your house. He unlocks your sliding door, and you walk in, still more pale before and slow. “Pfft, you should see the look on your face. Hilarious. I’ll have to do that more often.”

“You– You know you can’t!” You sputter out, glaring at him as you set down the food you’re holding, putting your hands on your hips. He just looks at you, boredly, as he tosses some fries in his mouth. 

“Wassa big deal? Nobody saw.” He speaks through chewing, and you wrinkle your nose, turning around and shutting the door while you pull the blinds closed. 

“What if somebody did see, though!? And we didn’t even know! This is the age of technology, Adam, anyone could be filming for any reason!” You counter, watching in irritation as he flops down on the giant beanbag you have in your small living room in lieu of a couch. 

“Even if someone did see it, nobody would believe it. I know those fake ass videos that circulate all the time online of some mysterious shit happening which is obviously just not real.” He seems extremely unbothered by this, which is somewhat concerning. That meant either you were really getting up in arms about this for no reason, or he just didn’t want to admit to making a mistake. You’d heard the phrase ‘angels don’t make mistakes’ or something similar quite a few times from him. You just shoot him a glare as he waves a hand and magics over your remote as he flips the TV on, munching on the food he got. 

“Food’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat, babes.” He chirps out, flicking through channels, and you pinch the bridge of your nose and utter under your breath. You never win any arguments with him. Why do you even bother? With a sigh, you grab your food and sit next to him on the beanbag. It’s normally enough to fit at least three or four people, but with how large Adam is, it looks like it’s really just meant for two people. You sit cross legged as you eat, another silence finally lapsing between the both of you. Adam can’t shut up most of the time, and even while he’s eating he’s making quips at the show you’re watching. 

“Fuckin’ women argue so much, why did they make a show about it?” He comments while he chews, and you click the remote to see what you’re even watching with a roll of your eyes. The Real Housewives. Great. This one isn’t even set in your area. 

“I think it’s all fabricated.” You comment in response. Adam’s done with his food, eating his ice cream, and you’re almost finished with your main meal. 

“Why? Wouldn’t it be more interesting if it was real beef?” He scoffs, and you shrug. 

“Well, yeah, but rarely is it actually as entertaining as this.” You motion to the screen, grimacing as you see one of the women throw a fork at the other. This was so dumb. Adam seems to agree, as he snorts and changes the channel. 

When you’re both completely finished eating, you lounge with him. It’s a bit strange, you admit, having your supposed ‘guardian angel’ just relaxing with you. He’s a divine being; The first man! Yet he’s here, kicking back on your beanbag like he’s some buddy of yours. You don’t tell him to get out, though, because deep down, despite how much of an awful prick he can be… you kinda like the company. You have friends, sure, but they’re all busy with their own lives. Adam? You’re not entirely sure what his life in Heaven is like. You don’t know his responsibilities, but it must not be much if he can just come down here and kick it with you whenever. 

You try to drown these contemplative thoughts out with television, but you find it difficult to do as another pang lights your stomach. You groan out, shifting a bit, rubbing at the cramps. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about those. You should go and put something on for the blood, but… Goddamn you don’t wanna get up. Instead, you just roll around slightly on the beanbag, groaning, trying to get comfortable. Adam, blissfully, doesn’t say anything. At first, at least. When you finally moan out in pain, though, and your head slumps against his arm, he scoffs, lifting his arm to look down at you. Your head thumps against his side. 

“The fuck you makin’ so much noise for?” He complains, and you pout, mildly glaring at his crass attitude. 

“Told you earlier, on my period… Cramps reeaaallly blow.” You utter out, somewhat muffled due to your cheek resting against his side. 

“Sucks to suck, woman.” He sneers, and you resist the urge to bite him. Just barely. Your glare certainly says enough, though. 

“Please tell me there’s no periods in Heaven.” You sigh as you roll onto your back, peering up miserably at the angel next to you. 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ in his response, and you sigh in relief. “Actually, I can just make it so you don’t have it anymore.” He suddenly mentions, and you gasp, sitting up to look at him. 

“What? Really?” You grin in excitement at the thought, and he looks at you slyly. 

“Yeeep. Only for about nine months at a time, though.” He looks back at his gloved nails, and you tilt your head in confusion. 

“That’s… Oddly specific. Why?” You ask, curious. He narrows his eyes at you, grin never leaving his face as he waggles his eyebrows at you. A heated warmth blossoms fiercely across your cheeks and body as you suddenly understand what he’s insinuating. 

“Stop being so horny!” You growl out, shoving him as he starts laughing, slapping you with his wing as you stumble to your feet. 

“Hey! You know how many chicks are lining up to ride original dick?” He finally huffs out after he’s finished with his laughing fit, pointing down at his crotch. 

“I can imagine not very many if you’re here pestering me, still.” You roll your eyes, and his wings flare out in anger at that as he gets up. 

“You got no fuckin’ idea! Bitches and groupies are lining up to see me after a show, and even on the streets. I’ve been looking after you for like– What– a few months? You haven’t gotten laid once, so you can cut the cool act and just start begging whenever you want. You’ll be thanking me after.” He insists, waving his arms about as his wings give a beat of frustration. It knocks over a paper mache piece one of your friends made for you, and nearly bowls your cat off of his feet as he comes strolling into the room, although he seems none the wiser to what the wind actually was. You just offer Adam a hard stare as you swoop down to pick up the paper mache, setting it neatly back where it was. 

“Is that even allowed?” You can’t help but to ponder, never having of really broached the topic with him. Sure, he was usually horny around you. Made innuendos and suggestive comments(occasional groping), but he’d never actually really tried anything. 

“Is what allowed?” He’s gotten distracted by your cat, squinting at him as he strolls about your living room, sticking his head into the now empty paperbag of one of your meals. 

“You fucking…” You try to think of what you are to him. You don’t know the term, so instead you just settle on, “Me?”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m Adam.” Comes his smug response, an equally smug look on his face as his arms cross and he peers down at you. Okay, that’s not a… Real answer, but you suppose you’re not going to get a real answer out of him. You open your mouth, before closing it, deciding to wave him off, uttering that you’ll be back. You head into your bathroom, finally grabbing something to help your blood flow. You also decide to take something to alleviate your cramps a bit, and when you walk back into your main room, you hear Adam. “Hey, pussy, that’s mine!” You walk over, seeing Adam crouched over your cat, glaring at him as he snacks on a fry from inside the bag. So much for being empty. 

He then deftly takes the fry from your cat, sticking his tongue out at him as the feline meows pitifully, confused at the fry dangling from nothing in front of him. “Hey, don’t be mean! He found that fair and square, give it back!” You counter, walking over and snatching the fry out of Adam’s fingers. The angel scowls at you as you toss the fry back down for your little boy to consume, and you pet him lovingly. 

“Don’t think a cat is supposed to eat that shit.” He grimaces, and you just shrug. 

“He can have a little treat. It’s okay.” You decide, picking up the rest of the empty bags and containers as you move to throw them away. “You staying the night or something?” You can’t help but to tease Adam. He doesn’t normally hang around you for this long. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s only supposed to be here when you’re in real trouble, but you’re not entirely sure what defines that. Maybe he has some premonition about when you’ll get in trouble, so perhaps that’s why he’s sticking around. 

“Why, you want me to?” He arches his brows again, and you roll your eyes, not gracing him with a response. “No way, I got shit to do back up top. I’m important, you know, can’t just spend all the time hangin’ out with some mortal. Much as you’d like me to, I know I know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You utter under your breath, and before he has a moment to ask what you said, you pipe up, “Are you even allowed to be doing this? Just like, hanging out? And, no,” You start as he opens his mouth to reply. “I don’t want to hear ‘I’m Adam, I can do what I want’ because really that holds no ground.” 

“Uh, the fuck it doesn’t! It holds all the ground.” He scoffs. “You may hate the answer, but it’s the truth, babes. Heaven is way better than this shithole you live in, but sometimes it gets so booooring. You guys keep it fresh down here.” He grins, somewhat wicked as he advances towards you, before pausing. “Oh, shit, you know what you should do?” You offer him an uncertain look. “Go to a concert! Or festival! They fuckin’ rock down here.” He throws up the devil’s horns. 

“And… Why would I do that?” You frown. 

“So I can watch, duh.” He crosses his arms, and you just raise a brow.

“Can’t you just go fly to a concert somewhere and watch it?” You inquired, flopping back down on your beanbag with a grimace as another cramping spasm rips through your body. 

“Not really, nah. If I come down to Earth, I’m basically tied to you. Gotta stick around you within a certain area sorta deal.” He explains, and you make a small noise of surprise. You suppress the urge to say, ‘I thought you were Adam and could do whatever you wanted’, but you don’t because you don’t want him going off on a rant about it. 

“Well, I’ll think about it. Concerts aren’t really my thing.” You admit, trying to decide one what to watch the rest of the night. Your cat comes up, purring as he settles on your stomach, and you groan out at the pressure it applies. 

“You should make it your thing and stop being so fucking boring” He huffs. 

“If I’m so boring then why did you hang around me for so long today?” You stick your tongue out as part of your response, and Adam’s wings fluff up and flare at the accusation. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, eyes narrowing along with his brows. 

“Because… Free food, that’s why. Fuck you, later loser!” He flips you the bird again with both hands this time, sticking his own tongue out, before he’s gone in a puff of golden glitter. It sizzles around you, falling to the ground as it disperses, and you sigh out. You pet your cat, laying your head back on the beanbag. 

“...Hope you don’t think I’m crazy.” You rumble to your cat as you scratch him behind the ears. It’s just you and him, now, and you don’t know when Adam will pop up again. You realize, with a pang in your chest, that you miss him already. What a dangerous game you were playing, talking so freely with your divine guardian. 

[ghcstao3]

john gets stranded in what is essentially the middle of nowhere on a road trip because of his car breaking down out of the blue and a torrential downpour that had not come up once on the forecasts he made sure to check a million times over before leaving for his voyage.

it’s strange, the place he finds himself in. he hasn’t seen another car in ages, surrounded by thick forests and no civilization, save for an old general store he remembers passing just before his car called it quits. the rain and dark skies appeared out of nowhere, almost like he’d entered some bubble isolated from the rest of the region.

in any case, in all his panicked stupidity and the hope that he’d maybe be able to get help sooner, john decides to trudge back the kilometre or so to the shop.

dim yellow lights glow in the midst of all the rain, and he’s mercifully greeted by a fading open sign just as he approaches the door. he pushes in without a second thought, eager to escape the downfall.

inside is about everything he’d expect; essentials, canned foods, toiletry, snacks. hardly anything special, though soap is immediately filled with a pleasant warmth that melts away the shiver that would have otherwise set into his bones.

he doesn’t browse. only moves toward the empty counter and prays someone will show up eventually.

not that he’d hate waiting around in the store. it’s far better than his car, in any case.

but just as john takes a step forward, a throat clears behind him.

“‘bit wet out there, is it?”

the deepness of the voice reverberates through john, startling. comforting. he whirls around to face the owner of said voice, and all he sees is tall, broad, dark as his eyes climb to meet irises the warm colour of black coffee.

“a bit,” john agrees, albeit slowly. he realizes he had never heard footsteps, let alone saw anyone else in the store just seconds before. he’s not sure what compels him, but he adds, “my car broke down.”

the man inclines his head toward john, his eyes almost analytical, considering something about john that has nothing to do with his current predicament. it’s hard to judge what he’s thinking, with the mask obscuring the lower half of his face.

“unfortunate,” the man says. “you’ll have to wait out the storm for help.”

john’s heart sinks. he still had so much travel left ahead of him—and who knew how much longer this weather would last?

disappointment must be clear on his face, as the man’s furrowed brows soften into a polite sort of pity before he lets out a quiet sigh and silently directs soap toward the counter.

“wait here,” he instructs.

the man disappears into another room, returning very shortly with a styrofoam cup of coffee and a set of clothing of which he unceremoniously drops on the counter.

“better you’re in dry clothes while you wait,” he explains. “bathroom is just in the back. i have a call to make.”

john nods, swallows. “thank you,” he says, hesitantly reaching for the clothes, “i really appreciate it.”

the man huffs. he stares at john a few moments too long, john almost feeling itchy under his gaze—though, somehow, in a good way.

“my name’s simon, if you need me,” he grunts.

john nods again, offering a polite smile before turning to head to the bathroom. he pauses after only a few steps and turns back to say something, but the words die on his tongue as he sees simon has all but vanished.

john bites his tongue, shaking his head before he continues on his way.

the patter of rain is still heavy outside, nearly matching the squelch and squeak of wet shoes on the tile. the bathroom isn’t difficult to locate, and john finds it easy to admit to himself that he’s more than grateful to not be in clothes that cling to his skin.

though maybe had his mind not been so preoccupied with a dark gaze and full baritone, john might have noticed that the products lining the few shelves were not in fact all normal. perhaps he would have noticed jars of herbs and bones, bottles sealed with wax and labelled as spells. maybe he’d have seen the array of things considered otherworldly.

but he doesn’t. instead, john returns to the counter and the cup of coffee; to simon once he returns and a shadow that doesn’t quite follow his movements as it should.

maybe having his car stop working didn’t have to be such a bad thing, for the time being.

(part two)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Beauty and the Beast’s Last Theater - Keith Howell (part 4/4)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

nsfw at the end

Keith and Emma: Huh…

The one in front was nice Prince Keith, not wicked Prince Keith.

Sad music could be heard in the distance and within the wings, actors waited for their cue.

The audience was so engrossed in the story that they didn’t notice that something was wrong.

(Did wicked Keith just decide to switch out? But why?)

He was so serious during rehearsals, so he shouldn’t have suddenly switched.

There was still some time before the next scene. The prince and the spirit stared at each other for the time being.

(I need to regain my composure now)

Keith: …

(Ah…)

At that moment, the look on Prince Keith’s face and his aura changed.

He became the prince who had fallen for the spirit, someone I saw many times during the rehearsals between the two of us…

Within the silent theater, the final scene began.

His gentle gaze that made all worries and troubles disappear locked the spirit’s heart in place.

Keith: ‘—If that’s the case, then let me heal your wounds. Even if it takes years, hundreds of years, even when this body can’t maintain its form and returns to a spirit.’ ‘I will love you.’

‘You stole my heart the first time we met in the forest.’

(To the spirit who had been alone all her life, the prince, who persisted with the love within his heart despite being of a different race, was as radiant as the sun and more beautiful than any jewel out there)

(Just imagining it made me want to lose myself in it)

As if to celebrate their love and communicate their feelings, actors appeared from the wings and danced like flowers.

And then the curtains fell—

The round of applause let us know that the performance was a success.

--

Keith and Emma: Haaa…

That night—

After getting ready to turn in for the night and sitting side by side in bed for a while, we were still stuck in the aftermath of the performance.

(It feels as if I was just in some magnificent dream. I really was on stage)

(I was shocked by wicked Prince Keith’s surprise, but it was still a precious experience)

Filled with happiness and relief, all the tension left my body as I leaned against Prince Keith.

Emma: Sonia was really pleased.

Keith: ‘This will improve the sales of my new work. I can still continue with being an author.’ She was in a really good mood when she said that at the party.

Emma: Speaking of being in a really good mood, the director was too. He’s invited you to perform on stage again.

Keith: “His” acting was so compelling so I’m happy he’s getting recognition.

Emma: You’re both getting recognition, you know?

Keith’s eyes widened and gave an embarrassed smile.

Keith: Since you were watching so closely, if you say so, then I guess so. I’m feeling a little more confident thanks to you two.

Emma: Just a little?

Keith: A…a lot more?

Emma: That’s what I think. I thought you looked so majestic and radiant on stage.

I leaned against his burly body and he patted my head.

(It’s like he’s thanking me)

Keith: By the way, I asked him why he switched out. But like I expected, he didn’t tell me.

Emma: Hehe, he’s a wicked one.

(But based on the look on Prince Keith’s face, he was aware)

I was the same. Something I heard between rehearsals came to mind.

~~ Flashback ~~

Emma: I was surprised when you didn’t look nervous at all on the first day of rehearsal and showed a natural performance the director was looking for.

Alter!Keith: It’s probably because I’m used to acting like someone else.

Alter!Keith: That said, I’m just going through the motions.

Can’t compete with someone who really loves the piece of work.

~~ End flashback ~~

(I’m guessing he was talking about nice Prince Keith)

Regardless of how skilled of an actor you are, it’s hard to perform with the same degree of emotion, interpretation, and enthusiasm as someone who loves the work.

(Perhaps that’s why he swapped out during the most important part of the performance)

He was my rehearsal partner and remembered the lines and actions, so there wasn’t an issue.

(But the main reason for that scene was…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Keith: I especially liked the last scene where the two desperately tried to convey their feelings for each other and have reread it several times. 

~~ End flashback ~~

I found myself smiling as I guessed the reason why he didn’t tell him.

Keith: Also, Mireille asked us to come over to her estate some time. No doubt she’ll show us the painting.

Emma: I feel a bit embarrassed, but I’m looking forward to how the painting turned out.

Keith: Me too. I haven’t seen Mireille look that happy in so long…I’m glad I stood on stage. Ah, but it’s a little disappointing how the spirit’s face was covered by a hood.

Emma: She hid the fact that she wasn’t human until halfway through the story.

Keith: …I was a little relieved by that fact though.

Emma: Huh?

Keith: Your outfit and makeup made you look so lovely. I shouldn’t be thinking this, but I didn’t want anyone else to see you. I wanted to keep that look all to myself. 

Emma: Th…thank you. That makes me so happy.

My heart suddenly sped up and I averted my gaze.

(Why am I like this? Why are Prince Keith’s words making my heart race…?)

(I’m glad he didn’t tell me that before the performance)

Keith: Let’s go to sleep.

Emma: Yeah.

When we got under the covers, Keith tucked me in and gave me a kiss on the lips.

Even though this was part of our routine, my heart sped up even faster.

(Prince Keith looks nervous. His cheeks are a bit red)

Thinking back, I realized that it’s been a while since we lay in bed together since we were occupied by the performance and official duties.

(There were days where we didn’t even share a kiss…that’s why my heart’s racing)

Keith: Sorry…Emma.

Prince Keith suddenly planted his hand on the bed hovered over me.

The golden eyes gazing down at me were filled with heat…

(We can’t go to sleep like this)

Keith: I tried controlling myself, but after touching you, I couldn’t anymore. Can I kiss you again?

Emma: …Yes.

His soft olive-colored hair grazed my forehead and our lips met.

Our kiss gradually deepened and his tongue entwined with mine, bringing pleasure.

(My belly…feels warm)

Even though we were just kissing, I found myself rubbing my thighs together and a large hand stroked my leg.

Emma: Nnn…

Keith: Emma, you’re so cute. We’re only kissing and you already have this glassy look.

Emma: Don’t say that. It’s embarrassing. 

Keith: Ah, sorry…It feels good being with you. Don’t hide yourself from me. …I want to touch you more.

Emma: Well…Nnn, ah…

Keith: …Yeah. That one was on purpose. …You look so cute when you’re embarrassed.

After removing my nightgown, he peppered kisses on my skin before rolling a nipple with his tongue.

At the same time, his fingers rubbed along my wetness and my body trembled as waves of pleasure traveled through my body.

Keith: Emma.

Emma: Ahh…

Even a mere whisper was enough to numb my mind and I couldn’t help but cry out.

My breathing was ragged.

But my heart still sought Prince Keith out…

Keith: Tonight, I want to tell you “I love you” through words and actions. And tell you all the things I couldn’t tell you.

The eyes lovingly looking down at me overfilled me with feelings and I found myself nodding.

(I wonder if my heart’s racing because of the pleasure from his lips conveying his love only to me)  

Even though I knew he was just playing a role, I might have felt sad at the sight of him whispering words of love to someone else but me.

(I’m embarrassed…but Prince Keith feels the same)

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close enough to feel his heartbeat. 

(I never dreamed that there would be a day when I’d stand on stage, and I was so anxious and nervous)

(However, I’d like to continue trying different things with Prince Keith)

Another memory bloomed beautifully in my mind like a vibrant flower.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Five

When Aemond arrived back at the Keep on the eleventh day of the sixth moon, a strange sensation bubbled within him; an increased heart rate and warmth pumping through his veins. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in quite some time, reminiscent of the thrill he felt when he first claimed Vhagar as his own.

He continued to chuckle to himself about his encounter with the woman at Harrenhall, admiring her for biding her time yet enjoying the likely possibility of her being wrong. There was no possible way Lady Maera of House Wylde would be in the Capital, especially on this day. A sense of satisfaction washed over him as he entertained the notion of cutting off Alys's head and proving that he was not so easily swayed by magical predictions and other silly notions.

Upon entering his rooms, Aemond shed is riding gear with a contented sigh and rang the bell, summoning a servant to assist him in preparing for dinner with his family. He exchanged the weathered clothes for more formal attire, opting for a black leather doublet adorned with the sigil of House Targaryen - three-headed dragons. His trousers matched the dark hue of his doublet, and he pulled on polished black leather boots to complete the ensemble. Allowing a maid to assist him, Aemond had his silver hair brushed back into its usual straightened look, securing half of it away from his face. With a nod of thanks, he dismissed the servant, allowing himself to gather his thoughts before facing his family.

Aemond reached into a box on his bedside and pulled out another eyepatch, this one made of sturdier leather and less weathered from riding. With reservation, he removed his old eyepatch, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His scar and sapphire eye stared back at him, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of disgust. Quickly, he covered it with the new eyepatch, hiding the reminder of his past injury.

Departing from his rooms, a sense of duty compelled him to visit his mother, the dowager Queen, before joining the rest of the family for their meal. However, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him, prompting him to pause in the hallway. He glanced out of the window, his gaze drifting over the expanse of the Keep Gardens, where the sun began its descent behind the distant hills. She wouldn’t actually be there would she? That would mean the whore at Harrenhall was right, and the chance of that being true was slim… Aemond knew there was at least an hour until dinner, so with a frustrated huff, he decided to go and at least check outside, unable to shake off the notion.

Descending into the Keep Gardens at twilight, Aemond found himself immersed in a serene atmosphere. The fading light cast long shadows across the lush greenery, painting the scene in hues of gold and amber. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, their sweet fragrance mingling with the cool evening air. The sound of birds chirping and the gentle rustle of leaves added to the tranquil ambiance. Finding a secluded spot, Aemond settled on the garden wall, positioned high up behind a tall tree. From this vantage point, he could observe the beauty of the gardens while maintaining a sense of privacy.

As the gardens gradually grew darker with the setting sun, Aemond became mindful of the approaching dinner hour and the need to not be late. Preparing to descend from the wall, he couldn't shake off the slight disappointment he felt at not encountering Maera. Yet, as he readied himself to jump down, the sound of footsteps approaching along the path below froze him in place. Looking down, he saw a flash of blue and gold, and a curly mane of brown and silver. It was her.

Watching from his elevated perch, Aemond observed Maera's graceful stride as she walked down the path. Her turquoise gown, adorned with intricate golden detailing, caught the fading light and shimmered with every movement. He couldn't help but admire the way the tight bodice accentuated her curves, highlighting her ample breasts and slender waist. It struck him how much she had blossomed into a woman since he had last seen her.

Leaning in to get a closer look from his elevated position, Aemond's gaze lingered on Maera's dark brown hair, styled in an elegant half-updo. A delicate braid encircled the crown of her head, allowing the rest of her locks to cascade down her back in soft waves. Amidst the brown strands, her distinct silver streak caught the fading light, serving as a visible reminder of her Targaryen lineage.

When Maera walked toward the garden wall to gaze out at the shoreline, Aemond felt conflicted. If Maera was indeed here, specifically on this day, it meant that Alys had been right. Perhaps there truly was such a thing as foresight. And if that were the case, what other implications could it hold? What was this supposed "divine plan" the witch had mentioned to him?

“The Jewel of Rainwood,” he murmured into the air, his words filling the silent surroundings of the gardens, watching the Lady’s reactions closely. He noted the slight panic in her movements, the way her gaze darted around frantically, searching for the voice. As she reached for what he assumed was a dagger concealed beneath her skirts, he couldn't help but smirk. The notion that she could ever pose a threat to him seemed laughable.

He decided to humiliate her by speaking the language of his ancestors. Aemond was now fluent and whilst he knew Maera was also learning when they were children, he was sure she had not stuck to it. She was a Wylde, not a true Targaryen.

“Sīr, ao emagon māzigon arlī naejot dārys tegorīr?” So, you have returned to Kings Landing? He asked her mockingly, observing the wrinkle of her nose and the squinting of her eyes as she gazed up to where he was hidden behind the trees. He smirked, “Mōrī jēda nyke ūndan ao istan hāre jēdri ag? Ao istan olvie vēdros rȳ issa mandia’s dīnilūks” Last time I saw you was three years ago? If I recall correctly, you were quite agitated at my sister’s wedding.

But the girl did not seem intimated. In fact, quite the opposite, maybe even irked. She removed her hand from dagger beneath her skirts and Aemond watched her stare up defiantly at his concealed figure. “Se mōrī jēda nyke ūndan ao, aōha ego ēdan mazverdagon hae rōva hae aōha zaldrīzes.” And last time I saw you, your ego had swelled to match the size of your dragon.

The Prince’s confidence wavered at her reply, causing his eyebrow to raise in surprise at her perfect wording and annunciation of High Valyrian. Clearly, she had diligently maintained her studies, and her proficiency was almost on par with his own. Almost.

“Issi ao māzis hen? Nykeā lua ruaragon inkot se tēmbi?” So are you going to come out? Or continue to cower behind the trees? She called up to him in a goading manner as he breathed out a chuckle. With practiced grace, he leaped down from the wall like a cat, landing elegantly on the ground below. Stepping out of the shadows, he turned to face her, a mix of amusement and curiosity in his single violet eye.

Gods, she had changed. Yes, her features remained very similar to those in childhood. But now she truly was a woman grown, and he struggled to maintain his indifference as he stalked towards Lady Maera. Her face, still round as it had always been, now boasted higher and more defined cheekbones. Her once button nose had transformed into a graceful slope, adding to her newfound allure. Her eyes, still the same unique shade of green, now held a different kind of depth and intensity. They seemed to pierce through him, stirring something within him that he struggled to contain.

As the Lady displayed a low curtsy before him, Aemond felt a tightening in his chest, his doublet collar suddenly feeling constricting. There was an undeniable allure in her submission, a tantalizing appeal that sent a shiver down his spine. When she rose, the pair walked side by side down the path, their conversation seeming cordial to any outsider, but in reality, it was far from pleasant. Each word exchanged between them was laced with bitterness, cruel jabs, and sarcasm. Aemond seemed to relish in their verbal sparring, pushing the boundaries further with each barb, determined to come out on top.

"Rumors are quite persistent, Maera. They say the eldest daughter of the Master of Laws is not as virtuous as her family would hope,” the Prince sneered at her, hoping his words would shake her to her core, that she would feel at his mercy.

Instead, she met his accusation with a smile. "If I were a lord serving my King, I could frequent the street of silk as much as I pleased. But whether I have been…deflowered or not, who I take to my bed is hardly any concern of yours."

When Maera did not deny her indiscretions, it struck a chord with Aemond. She had been sullied, tainted by her actions, much like his sister Rhaenyra had been in the tales recounted by his mother over the years. The difference was that Maera showed no signs of shame, meeting his challenges head-on with an admirable, albeit foolish, defiance.

Attempting to provoke Maera further, mentioning his sister Queen Helaena was the only instance where Maera visibly reacted. But it wasn't for the reason Aemond had anticipated. Instead, he could see that Maera still harbored a strong and fierce protectiveness over Queen Helaena. No matter what accusations Aemond threw her way, Maera's loyalty to her queen remained unwavering. It was clear that she simply wanted to be there for her queen, as her friend.

Ending their conversation, with each party agreeing to avoid each other, Aemond couldn't hide his satisfaction as he watched Maera walk away in a huff. And when she turned to look back at him, his smirk grew wider. The game of cat and mouse had begun, and now he relished the opportunity to make her life hell, just as she had made his when she abandoned him all those years ago.

As her form disappeared from his view, Aemond chose a different route back to the Keep. Instead of entering through the main doors, he navigated the secret passageways hidden within the fortress. These tunnels, overseen by his ancestor Maegor the Cruel, were well-known to every Targaryen born at the Keep, and Aemond had mastered them over the years.

Swiftly and silently, Aemond made his way through the narrow passages, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. He maneuvered through the twists and turns with practiced ease, before finally reaching a hidden door concealed behind a tapestry. With a deft motion, Aemond pushed aside the tapestry, revealing the grandeur of the Great Hall beyond. He stepped through the doorway, his presence unnoticed by the occupants within.

The room was adorned with banners displaying the sigil of House Targaryen, creating an atmosphere of regal splendor. A long table was laid out in the centre of the hall, draped with rich fabrics and adorned with silver candelabras. Torches flickered along the walls, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene. Servants bustled about, laying out plates of food and pouring wine into ornate goblets. The air was filled with the tantalising aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and spiced wines.

At the head of the table sat King Aegon, his imposing figure commanding attention as he chugged his wine with gusto. To his left sat Queen Helaena, her delicate hands fiddling with her cutlery as she stole glances around the room. On the opposite side of the table stood Lord Otto Hightower, his tall stature imposing yet regal, engaged in conversation with Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent. The two conversed animatedly with their voices hushed, coinciding with the peacefulness of the room.

Aemond's stealthy return was abruptly interrupted by the King's booming voice as he spotted his younger brother, calling out to him from his seat at the table. "You move like a ghost, Brother! Where have you been?" Aegon inquired with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Rolling his eye, Aemond responded nonchalantly as he walked towards his family, his steps echoing softly against the polished stone floor. "I had matters to attend to before dinner, your Grace."

Alicent, who had been engaged in conversation with Lord Otto, Aemond's grandfather, left her discussion and approached her son, planting a tender kiss on his marred cheek. Aemond welcomed the affection from his mother, hoping it meant she was not still upset with him.

The dowager queen smiled warmly before inquiring, “And Harrenhall?" she asked, her tone tinged with hopefulness.

Aemond hesitated, reluctant to divulge the grim details of what had transpired at Harrenhall. "We shall discuss it in detail tomorrow, Mother. But rest assured, I handled it," he assured her, choosing to leave the darker aspects of his mission unspoken for the time being.

Satisfied with her son's response, Alicent nodded understandingly and returned to her seat. Aemond followed suit, leaving a deliberate space between himself and Helaena, anticipating Maera's arrival. He relished the thought of confronting her once more, eager to continue his clandestine game with Maera from a more public stage.

“Lord Jasper, and his daughter, the Lady Maera of House Wylde,” one of the guards announced as the doors opened. When the Master of Laws entered with his eldest daughter on his arm, a hush fell over the room, all eyes locking onto the young Lady who has finally returned to court after many years away. Aemond's gaze remained fixed on her, his single violet eye tracing her every movement with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

“Seven Hells,” he heard Aegon muttering.

Maera's entrance was as graceful as ever, her turquoise gown billowing around her as she scanned the room. Aemond watched as her gaze swept past the assembled guests, lingering on each face before finally landing on him. A smirk played at the corners of Aemond's lips as he observed the furrow of confusion that creased Maera's brow. He could practically feel the gears turning in her mind as she tried to decipher how he had managed to arrive before her.

The sense of satisfaction that washed over Aemond was palpable as he reveled in the feeling of outsmarting her. With Maera's presence at the Keep, their game of had only just begun, and Aemond was determined to emerge victorious, his fixed steely gaze silently daring her to challenge him further.

However his smug smile disappeared when Aegon rose from his seat with a gleam in his violet eye and a Cheshire Cat smile. It was the same look that Aegon wore when he indulged in his more base desires, like when he bothered the serving girls or took a particular interest in a Lady at court. A grin that Aemond found distasteful, especially in this context. Watching Aegon approach Maera with such boldness, Aemond's jaw clenched involuntarily, his grip tightening on his goblet. He couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion, a complex mixture of indignation, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Seeing Aegon embrace Maera, his hand boldly placed on her waist, Aemond felt a pang of discomfort. His gaze narrowed as he observed the interaction, the uncomfortable look on Maera's face only adding fuel to the fire raging within him. It was a sensation akin to a primal instinct, a territorial instinct, but Aemond refused to acknowledge it as such. Instead, he attributed it to his protective instincts over his sister, the Queen, and his disdain for Aegon's lack of propriety in his wife’s presence.

When Maera locked eyes on the table, Aemond couldn't help but notice the slight huff of annoyance as she realized her allocated seat was uncomfortably close to him. He almost chuckled at her reaction, finding joy in her discomfort. As she passed by him to take her seat, Aemond caught a whiff of her familiar scent, a blend of vanilla and rainwater that stirred something within him. Despite his resolve to remain unaffected, he couldn't deny the uplifting effect it had on him.

Throughout the meal, Maera seemed to ignore him, focusing instead on her food and the conversation around her. Aemond took this as a victory, feeling a sense of superiority in their silent battle of wills. However, when Aemond looked up from his plate, his anger flared at the sight of Aegon's continued leering at Maera from across the table. In their childhood, the girl had never tolerated Aegon’s distasteful behaviour, and Aemond was disappointed to see her acquiescing now, even though he knew she couldn’t really protest because Aegon was the King.

Despite his anger towards the young Lady of House Wylde, Aemond noticed the positive effect her presence had on the atmosphere in the room. Helaena seemed more animated, reminiscing with her old friend, her violet eyes sparkling with joy. Even Aemond's mother, the dowager Queen, was seen laughing, a rare sight that brought a sense of warmth to the room.

"And do you still train with the sword, Lady Maera?" Aemond heard his grandfather ask her, causing his ears to prick up. Memories of their childhood training sessions, before societal expectations had stifled Maera's freedom, flooded Aemond's mind, and he could not help but be curious as to what her answer was.

However, before Maera could answer, her father, Lord Jasper, interjected, cutting off the conversation. A flicker of annoyance crossed Maera's face, swiftly masked by a forced neutrality. Aemond observed how she quickly composed herself, casting her eyes down as if to remind herself to behave and not cause a scene. This did not seem like the behaviour of the girl he once knew.

Refusing to let the moment pass, Aemond swiftly interjected, "The Hand of the King was addressing Lady Maera, not you, my lord." The one-eyed Prince turned his head towards Maera, seeing the look of confusion and suspicion on her face at his interruption, as well as something else. Gratitude maybe? "Lady Maera, I believe my grandfather is awaiting an answer,” he declared, his eye locked on her.

Aemond relished in the discomfort evident on Maera's face as all eyes turned to her, a faint blush painting her cheeks with embarrassment. However, when Maera looked straight at Lord Otto and revealed that she, in fact, still train with a sword, Aemond couldn't suppress a hum of acknowledgment. Despite his disdain for her, there was an admiration for her continued skill. It was a testament to her resilience and determination, proving that she hadn't succumbed to the role of a helpless Lady as he had assumed.

“Such behavior hardly befits a lady who aspires to find a suitable husband, no matter how beautiful and witty she may be,” Aegon commented with a smirk, seemingly trying to humiliate her.

Maera, undeterred, replied with a retort as quick as lightning, “Perhaps it's time that the lords of Westeros alter their attitudes, so that I might find one worthy of my time and affections.”

Aemond felt a smirk tug at the corners of his lips, though he quickly suppressed it with a clearing of his throat. This was the Maera he remembered from their youth – fierce, honest, and unyielding.

The Prince was aware Maera's attentiveness to Helaena's emotions, her offer to escort the Queen to her rooms earning a grateful smile from his sister. Despite his irritation at the prospect of Maera's presence in the Keep, he acknowledged that Helaena would benefit from her friend's company. As Lord Jasper took his leave some time later, Aegon wasted no time in taking the vacant seat next to Aemond, launching into a conversation filled with lewd and exaggerated remarks.

“Gods, did you see that arse, brother? And those huge tits?! Holy Father, how I would love to-“

“Aegon, that's enough!” Alicent's stern voice cut through the room, her disapproval evident as she scolded her elder son. Aemond, of course, had noticed Maera's physical attributes, but he maintained a facade of indifference, refusing to engage in Aegon's lascivious commentary. He was above that, after all.

"You constantly used to call her fat and ugly when we were young," Aemond reminded his brother. But then, with a smirk, he added, “Let us not forget, she would not tolerate your vile behaviour either.”

Aegon grinned in response, unfazed by the reminder of his past humiliations. "But the ugly duckling can turn into a beautiful swan, Aemond," he retorted, his gaze drifting towards the door through which Maera had exited. "Very beautiful indeed." Aemond could feel the weight of his mother and grandfather's disapproving stares, but he knew they wouldn't challenge the King's behavior. After all, who dared to defy a monarch?

Aegon stood up, stretching dramatically. "Well, I'm positively exhausted. I think I shall retire," he announced, his tone dripping with faux weariness.

Aemond arched an eyebrow, skeptical of his brother's sudden desire for an early bedtime. "You never go to bed this early," he pointed out, his suspicion evident in his voice.

"Being King is exhausting, brother," Aegon replied with a smirk, placing a patronizing hand on Aemond's shoulder. "How fortunate you are to never know such a burden." Aemond clenched his jaw, suppressing his frustration at Aegon's jab. He watched his brother leave the room, his resentment simmering beneath the surface. However, there were more pressing matters at hand, and Aemond knew the true reason behind Aegon's early departure.

“Aemond…” Lord Otto's voice cut through the tension, a silent plea in his tone.

"I will see to it," Aemond declared, standing up with determination. With a curt nod to his grandfather, he exited the Great Hall, intent on finding his brother and ensuring Maera remained safe from his clutches.

The one-eyed Prince wandered the dark corridors, his steps heavy with anger as he searched for Aegon. His older brother's actions brought shame upon the family time and time again, his reckless behavior and disregard for propriety tarnishing their name. It frustrated Aemond to no end that Aegon faced no consequences for his actions, especially his mistreatment of women, which was widely known within the court.

As the ever-dutiful second son, Aemond felt compelled to clean up his brother's mess for the sake of their family’s honour. He couldn't help but feel disillusioned by the notion of an elder brother, someone meant to be looked up to and followed, especially considering Aegon's status as King. Yet, Aemond couldn't deny the bitter truth: Aegon's frequent disappointments had only reinforced Aemond's belief that he would be the better choice to wear the crown and lead the realm.

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to his brother's hushed voice in the distance, drawing him closer with every word. Peering around a stone pillar, he watched in horror as Aegon stood close to Maera, her back pressed against the cold stone wall. The sight of Aegon brushing a stray strand of hair behind Maera's ear ignited a fiery rage within Aemond, like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

His horror turned to disbelief as he witnessed Maera seemingly play along, her fingers tracing a flirtatious path across Aegon's chest. Aemond growled under his breath, feeling betrayed by Maera's actions. He had always suspected her of being a harlot, a manipulative snake seeking to advance her own agenda by cozying up to the King like so many others. But to see her reciprocate Aegon's advances was a betrayal that cut him to the core, igniting a fury within him unlike any he had felt before. As Aegon and Maera leaned in for a kiss, Aemond's anger reached its boiling point.

“Ooof!”

The one-eyed Prince’s rage was replaced by astonishment when Maera suddenly drew her fist back and delivered a powerful punch straight to his brother's stomach. The force of the blow sent Aegon staggering backward, collapsing onto the floor with a groan of pain.

A chuckle escaped Aemond's lips as he shook his head in disbelief. It seemed he had underestimated her. Despite his initial suspicions, she had not succumbed to Aegon's advances, but had instead stood her ground and defended herself, just as she had done when they were young. It was a reassuring realization, and Aemond found himself feeling a newfound respect for Maera's strength and resilience.

As Maera hurried away, Aemond emerged from the shadows, casting a satisfied gaze over his fallen brother. He felt a surge of vindication, knowing that Aegon had received the retribution he deserved. Looking up, Aemond caught Maera's gaze as she glanced back over her shoulder.

At first, he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, but when Aemond demonstrated his indifference, and even pride for what she had done, it quickly shifted into something else—a mixture of determination and relief. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment of shared sentiments and shared enemies.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment, conveying volumes without a single word spoken. Then, with a nod from Aemond, Maera turned away and continued on her path back to her room. Aemond watched her retreat, a sense of respect a flicker of their old camaraderie shining through

“Do you believe me now, my Prince?”

Aemond returned to Harrenhall a few weeks later, not only to check on the progress of the guards, but, as a man of his word, he freed the witch. The Prince couldn't shake the feeling of being unsettled by her ability to foresee events, especially when her words had proven to be true. And yet, if she proved to have the power of foresight, what else did she know and how else could it benefit him?

The crackling hearth cast flickering shadows across the room, illuminating shelves lined with jars and ointments, giving the space a cozy yet mysterious atmosphere. Facing Aemond, Alys sat with an air of quiet confidence, her catlike green eyes sparkling in the warm glow of the fire.

"I understand it is difficult,," the witch began, her voice calm and measured. "To accept that there are things beyond your understanding."

Aemond's brow furrowed, his expression hardened. "There were many known ancient mysteries of Old Valyria," he countered, his tone sharp with skepticism. "House Targaryen and its descendants are the only people in the world who can bond with and fly dragons.” He paused, before leaning forward to emphasise his point. “I can assure you, what you tell me is not beyond my understanding."

Aemond's patience began to wear thin, his jaw tightening and his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He couldn't shake the disdain he felt for the situation—here he was, entertaining notions of magic and prophecy with a mere bastard of House Strong. The memory of the last encounter with a Strong bastard, ending in death, lurked in the back of his mind, casting a shadow over the present moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Aemond stood from his chair, pacing around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. "You say that I want her, but you could not be more wrong," he declared, his voice tinged with bitterness. "She occupies my thoughts because she is the bane of my existence. I cannot stand her, and she in turn, cannot stand me."

Alys watched him intently, her gaze unwavering. "And yet you are bound," she declared confidently. "It is fate, my Prince, foretold by the Gods."

"The Gods tell you this themselves, do they?" Aemond asked, his voice laced with sarcasm yet tinged with curiosity.

"Or they show me," Alys replied, her tone calm and confident, accompanied by a serene smile.

Aemond's skepticism was evident as he approached her, looming over her seated form. "You mentioned a divine plan the last time I was here. The least you could do is tell me," he demanded, his gaze piercing.

"Why would I do that, my Prince?" Alys countered, her head tilted slightly inquisitively.

The witch’s disrespectful tone only fueled Aemond's growing irritation. Despite her lowly status, the witch seemed to believe she held the upper hand in their exchange. But Aemond was determined to change that. His gaze hardened as he met Alys's eyes, silently asserting his authority and refusing to be belittled by her insolence. "If you wish to return to the executioner’s block, just say the word," he sneered with a smirk.

Alys, not so easily intimidated, rose from her seat, meeting his gaze fearlessly. "But then you would not know what the Gods have in store for you," she pointed out. "I volunteered my knowledge for free last time. But since this is somthing you are now requesting personally, it requires payment.”

Aemond scowled, feeling a sense of unease creep over him. "What kind of payment?" he inquired, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

The witch's grin widened, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Since this is something you want to know, the payment must come from you," she stated cryptically, her gaze scanning him intently. Finally, she settled on a suggestion. "A lock of your hair, perhaps?"

Aemond scoffed at the seemingly trivial request, finding it absolutely ridiculous, but the thought of uncovering more of the witch's insights compelled him to comply. Unsheathing his dagger, he deftly severed a small strand of hair from the back of his head. He presented it to Alys, who accepted it with a gracious nod, her eyes alight with satisfaction.

The witch twisted the lock of hair around her fingers, her eyes closed in deep concentration, reminiscent of Helaena's meditative muttering, Aemond observed. Though he couldn't discern the words she murmured, he was taken aback when she suddenly cast the silver hair into the fire.

Impatience gnawed at him, prompting Aemond to break the silence. "Well?" he demanded, his tone edged with frustration.

The witch turned to face him, a serene smile gracing her features. "Your brother, Aegon, is now the King, as is his right as Viserys’s firstborn son," she began, her voice calm and measured.

Aemond's irritation flared at the mention of his brother. "Yes, I know that," he hissed, eager to get to the point. "What is your point?"

Alys's smile remained, almost unnervingly sweet, as she delivered her revelation. "His reign will last no longer than two years," she declared cryptically, forestalling any immediate questions from Aemond. "Yet the King of Kings will be born directly from your blood."

Taken aback by her words, Aemond furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. Before he could inquire further, Alys continued, gripping him by the hand. "You need her. The eye of the Maelstrom is a nest for the dragon," she proclaimed, her words laced with a sense of urgency. Aemond attempted to pull away, but the witch's hold remained steadfast. "You will ascend the throne. And she will be your Queen."

Ambition warred with morality as the Prince grappled with the implications of her words. The thought of ascending to the throne enticed him, fueling his desire for power and recognition. But the cost weighed heavily on his conscience—his dear nephews, Aegon’s sons, would have to meet a grim fate for him to claim the crown. Despite his ambition, Aemond couldn’t bring himself to wish harm upon his beloved nephews.

The mention of Maera’s involvement in the prophecy added another layer of complexity to Aemond’s internal turmoil. Despite their mutual animosity, the notion of Maera as his Queen seemed improbable, if not outright ludicrous. The enmity between them ran deep, and the idea of uniting with her in such a significant manner felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Aemond withdrew his hand from her grasp abruptly, his gaze fixed on Alys with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion etched on his features. Before he could articulate his barrage of questions, Alys forged ahead, her voice steady and unwavering."You will sire many children. But it is the union of a son and a daughter that will produce the greatest King of all," she declared, her words laden with gravitas.

Aemond's cautious inquiry followed. "My children? With her?" he asked, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

Not being entirely direct, Alys pressed on, her eyes seemingly fixed on some distant horizon. "I have heard the beat of his dragon’s wings across the world. Not only will he be King of Westeros, but he will unite the North, South, East, and West into a single Kingdom," she prophesied, her voice resonating with conviction. "And his rule will be a great one, with a dynasty of dragons to follow."

Aemond shook his head in disbelief. "Impossible. Lady Maera is of a minor House and would never agree to a marriage. I am promised to a Baratheon also. My nephews…it cannot be," he countered, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Yet Alys remained steadfast, her proclamation resolute. "The path the Gods have set for you is magnificent. And when you tread it, I will be at your side to guide you. For the sake of your House, do not desecrate their vision, my Prince."

Notes: I’ll be uploading main ODAM after this now sorry, I’ve been hyperfixating on the Aemond chapters 🤣

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[yanderes-galore]

Could you write a platonic concept for Lonely Freddy (Fazbear Frights)? i think this would work if reader is an employee at the pizzeria and found the bear. The obssesion starts and then LF uses that stare in reader, switching bodies with us, and then kidnapping us (now in our new body). Also, gender-neutral.

Sorry if it was too specific.

It's fine! I'll see what I got :) Wasn't too specific at all!

Yandere! Platonic! Lonely Freddy Concept

(Fazbear Frights: Lonely Freddy)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warning: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Forced friendship, Manipulation, Body swapping, Strangely caring yandere, Stalking/Following, Implied that darling is mentally exhausted/always stressed, Kidnapping.

It's been awhile since I've read this story so I apologize if anything is off.

In this concept I assume all of the Lonely Freddy's have the ability to body swap.

I also assume they can all walk on their own because I vaguely remember there being a scene where a Lonely Freddy is following a child.

Lonely Freddys are described as plush toys meant to keep lonely kids company at Freddy Fazbears.

Working at the pizzeria is very taxing on your mental health.

You have to work with kids all day and the place isn't necessarily the cleanest.

The animatronics make you uneasy yet you work here for meager pay.

You may attract a Lonely Freddy due to it sensing your poor mental state or something.

The toy seems to sense you're lonely and maybe it activates around you.

You don't notice it at first until a coworker points out that one of the toys is following you.

This confuses you, causing you to turn from cleaning to see the small bear toy staring up at you with glowing blue eyes.

It looks like it's... waiting for something?

With a soft sigh you pick up the toy and put it away.

What you don't know is this toy is about to show up around you way more often.

This particular Lonely Freddy toy keeps following and watching you while you work.

You've even tried giving it to children to keep them occupied, yet the bear finds a way to wiggle its way back to you.

It's just another instance of Fazbear tech being weird... as usual.

At some point you just decide to tolerate the bear.

You aren't getting rid of it, it's not hurting you, and your coworkers have joked about it being your own personal friend.

At this point you may as well befriend it as it never leaves you be.

The Lonely Freddy's "obsession" is mostly just following you around and monitoring you.

It can't kill, in its current state it can't kidnap, it's currently a harmless companion toy for you.

While you clean you sometimes pick it up to place on a table.

While you entertain kids you sometimes use it as an example for what you can do at Fazbears.

You begin to not mind the toy so much.

In fact, you may feel compelled to talk to it like it's your friend.

You absentmindedly play with it while on your break.

You even find yourself answering the little questions it asks, giving it more and more information about you.

Things only go wrong when the toy hypnotizes you.

In the break room the bear asks you personal questions and soon... you can't move.

By the time you regain your senses again, you and the bear have swapped.

Those glowing blue eyes of the bear now glow in your color.

Your body... now belonging to the bear... has vibrant blue eyes.

It seems inhuman.

Instead of having your fate be one of the dumpster like many before you, the bear decides it should continue its duty.

You're supposed to be friends!

It activated because you were unhappy... so now it'll take care of you!

Not many may notice the personality change between you and the bear.

Although it's a bit weird that it looks like you're very affectionate to the bear now, way more than before.

The Lonely Freddy takes your place.

It takes on the stressful tasks of your life while catering to you in your new plush body.

It never takes its hands off you, holding you happily.

You're placed on the bed while it rests in your body.

It whispers praises to you, saying there's no need to worry anymore.

If anything it's improving your life!

You won't have to suffer anymore.

As a plush bear, you can be happy. It'll keep you safe.

You're scared, sad, and upset.

Yet you can't convey these emotions as a Lonely Freddy.

You can only sit and endure while the bear masquerades as you in your body.

It tells you you'll be happy with no more responsibility in your life now... it'll handle everything from now on!

While that sounds nice... that never meant you wanted to spend the rest of your life imprisoned within a plush toy, either.