#but i like to draw a bit of his hair sticking up funny at the back to allude to it

[mitchell-nihil]

do any other artists just completely forget certain facets of character designs. i don't know how else to explain it, but i completely forget that things like tattoos can be added onto a character in the moment. afterwards i can look at a design (like Cass) and think "aw man that would've looked way better with tattoos" and i don't know why i just forget they're an option

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[captain-hawks]

"mom, are you gonna go hang out with olive when grandma picks me up?"

olive.

you sigh from across the kitchen at your daughter and her nickname for the situationship that she shouldn't even know exists.

she grins, turning her attention back to the crayons clutched in her little hands and the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of her.

—

you enjoy spending time with oliver.

albeit, it's typically a horizontal, minimally-clothed affair found somewhere within the vicinity of his lavish apartment.

but things are easy with him.

(and nothing's been easy since the divorce.)

oliver's funny. he's sweet. he's straightforward with his desires and upfront with his intentions. he's mature in a way that often makes you forget he's younger than you.

he's a gentleman, he's charming, and he could probably break your heart ten ways to sunday if you let him.

(you've told him as much between pillows and sheets, when you're both tired and sated. when he's smiling at you softly and stroking the backs of his knuckles against your hair like he's on the verge of saying something horribly fond.)

he's a generous lover (it's the best sex of your life, you'd be a liar to deny it).

but this is all it is and all it ever will be with oliver aiku—you're under no preconceived notions that say otherwise. you know his reputation, after all.

which is why you had no intention of introducing him to your daughter—until you received a call from her school requesting an early pick up while you and oliver were in your car grabbing lunch. she was apparently feeling sick, so you didn’t have much leeway to avoid the situation.

"mommy, who's that?" she'd asked, peering at the man sitting in the passenger seat, equal parts giggly and mystified.

she hadn't seen you with another man since—

"you can call me oliver," he'd grinned right back at her.

"nice to meet you, olive!" she'd chirped.

olive, olive, olive.

it haunts you, just a little. what an impression he happened to make on her in the span of a thirty-minute car ride as you cut your rendezvous short and dropped him back off at his apartment.

how he answered every outlandish question she asked—she's nosy by nature.

how he asked her questions about school and her favorite shows and her favorite animals in turn.

the way he grabbed your phone when she started belting out song requests and obediently complied, even when you told him "you really don't want to listen to that."

the way he sang along with her.

now it's always olive this, olive that.

you don't have the heart to tell her that olive doesn't date.

--

it's an unsuspecting tuesday night when everything changes.

"oliver?' you call out from where you're standing in the kitchen, a glass of water clenched in your slightly trembling hands as you stare at his fridge.

as you stare, and you stare. and what you're seeing still doesn't make any sense.

"hmm?" he comes up behind you suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist.

you lift a hand to point at the fridge, where a piece of paper hangs by a magnet, adorned with a crudely drawn green oval with stick figure arms and legs. the words OLIVE are written above it, punctuated by a little pink heart.

you'd hastily told oliver that he didn't have to keep the drawing when you opened your purse to find that she had stuffed it in there last week.

"i feel like having a child's drawing on your fridge might give your hookups the wrong idea," you say, throat beginning to feel tight.

oliver's arms tense around you slightly. you can feel him looking at the side of your face, but you can't tear your eyes away from the picture.

"i told you, you didn't have to keep it," you add, biting the inside of your cheek.

he turns you toward him then, an oddly serious expression on his face. he looks almost—hurt.

"nobody else is coming here to see this but you."

the room sways, just a bit, as your knees threaten to give out beneath you.

[mochinomnoms]

Do you ever think about eel cuddles? I feel like there are times when they want to snuggle and be in their eel forms while doing it so it's more comfortable for them. I kinda picture being in a big tub with one, their shrimpy is either nakey or wearing a bathing suit and just chilling in the bath with music playing and talking to them. Maybe you get to mess around with their fins or touch their cool claws all the while getting covered in their slimy love.

I do, I think about it so much and I am a sucker for non-sexual intimacy!!!! As much as I like to think about spicy thoughts with the tweels, there's something so domestic about sharing a bath with your partner, scratching and massaging their scalp and carefully rinsing out the shampoo so that it doesn't get in their eyes. It's easier to scrub your back when you have someone else there to do it for you. Yes, it's not the only time they'll see you naked, but there's something extra vulnerable about seeing all the moles, stretchmarks, and scars on your skin under a warm bathroom light.

Floyd isn't a big fan of bubble baths or using things like bath bombs, surprisingly! The idea of foaming bubbles and fizzy colors is cool at first, but all the smells and colors can overstimulate him when he's trying to relax. If he's trying to relax with his shrimpy, he actually prefers to use products with scents that remind him of home. Allow me to flex my ex-Lush employee knowledge, but he likes products that smell a lot more fresh, salty, and even citrusy! Plus, it makes you smell a lot more like him in the end. Floyd will rub his soap into your skin, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck to revel in the contact. For added measure, he'll rub his face, hands, and tail into you so that you'll be all slick and slimy just like him! He'll even do you the favor of massaging it into your skin if you throw a fit about feeling too wet. By the end, you'll have such smooth, soft skin that Vil is going to wonder if Azul decided to start selling his serum to the public.

Jade is just a tad bit more adventurous, if adventurous means picking all the woodsy, floral, and earthy scented bath products he can get his hands on. His favorite scents are rosemary and chamomile, which sounds weird at first but are actually quite pleasant. Jade will get you your very own shampoo, conditioner, and bath products suited for your hair and skin. He will only keep them in his bathroom, though. He slowly but surely gets you accustomed to his products, lush bathroom, and the soothing scrap from his nails that he repeatedly assured you wouldn't hurt. He'll use his claws to gently trace shapes and his name into your skin as he compares how different your skin's texture is compare to him. He's marveling how your fingertips prune up and your nails get softer, unlike his own hands which stay firm, slick and sharp. You're gonna get so used to Jade taking care of you in the bath that you're gonna be dragging yourself every other evening to wash up with Jade to take care of you. And care he does, for your his shrimp as well!

As a the shrimp to an eel, your their symbiote and they'll also expect you to clean them up too. Easier said than done when they're covered in a layer of mucus that sticks to your fingers and makes it hard to grab a hold of their squirming tail (they move it on purpose cause they think your furrowed brows and pout is funny). You can get them to settle down once you manage to trace the ridges of their fins, a particularly sensitive spot on their body that's the equivalent of tracing nails along your spine, soft and delightful shivers will make them chirp and click as you draw shapes and place kisses. It's a sight that the big bad scary eels reserve just for your eyes. Softness in the sea is reserved for only their mate, after all.

[hmsdoodlin]

(24) ‘Official’ messy doodle designs!

☆ Design notes under the cut. ☆

(They’re all the same height without shoes)

Mind

• I originally didn’t know what to do about the jacket because he seems like the type of guy to wear it normally/conventionally. But he looked cooler with it hanging off his shoulders and I got attached so he can be impractical for the sake of fashion

• Blue eyeshadow and bold eyeliner, he’s a DIVA

• Makes it his mission to be taller than Heart at any given moment, loves Demonias and any tall boots. Also prefers to feel taller in general.

• Otherwise pretty basic Mind design, he’s got mechanical hands up to his elbows and a metal neck + voice modulator

• When he gets particularly upset his little hair curl sticks up like an antenna and goes rigid

• Keeps his outfits spotless and without wrinkles

• Sun earring and charm on his belt

(I actually spent a good 30 minutes researching and mulling over who out of Mind and Heart got an earring on their left or right. I can’t remember the reasoning I ended up going with. BUT, because of how they’re worn Heart usually is on the right of Soul in pictures/portraits. Smth smth Mind yearning to be Souls ‘right hand man’ but not being able to fill that imaginary role both physically and metaphorically)

Heart

• Starry hair! I think he has faint sparkles or stars towards the bottom

• Wings always look like shit in cacophony, something about a birds flock usually helping them with molts and preening and having trouble doing it by themselves

• Constantly picks at his eyes so it’s either blood or tears, we’re not quite sure

• The moons on his pants are a bit random but they felt naked so I slapped em on there

• Seems like the type of guy to wear slides, but I can’t draw those so he gets simple sneakers. Thought about him in only socks but I don’t think that’s a good idea when you’re getting into fights and potentially breaking glass on the daily

• When he gets particularly upset his little hair curl gets sharp and makes a pointy heart

• Hoodie is full of stitches

• Moon earring!

Soul

• If you’ve ever played the sims 3 you probably know those slutty knee high boots in CAS, he has those

• Loves to be tall and also thinks big heels are cool

• The red parts on his design are a tad bit glittery/shiny

• Still on the fence about constellations in his design since I don’t know anything about them. I have Orion’s Belt ‘pointing’ at the sun and Corvus floating around the moon.

• Yes that’s the fucking Bill Cipher “William”constellation. It’s only there to torment a good friend of mine because I think it’s funny. Purely an easter egg for the sake of being a menace

• Soul the type of guy to have a bunch of pins and patches on his jacket. Might have to revisit the idea one day (Pins will definitely get rearranged in any future art, maybe he changes it up a bit daily to be silly)

• MASCARA! Pointy eyelashes

[starryluminary]

♪ Jane Doe - Alicia Keys

The EX Files finally!! The episode where Cody and Noah face the consequences of their actions (the consequences they frankly don't deserve)

I hope this is coherent. I had to add and change some things last second to tie it together and I reeeeally hope I managed to have it read well

Notes about this episode under the cut! (There’s extra detail I couldn’t fit in the doodles and needed context for future episodes, so skimming them is recommended!)

* (It’d be funny if Noah had a black eye this episode from Sierra’s backhand.)

* It starts off with Sierra crying and Courtney and Heather making Cody comfort her, which he does reluctantly.

* Cody's not entirely sure what to say to try and calm her down, but she retorts with “Whatever… it’s not like you're in love with him.”

* Sierra looks back at him… and he’s frozen. He doesn’t know how to respond.

* Sierra can take a guess, though. “…No you aren't.” She harshly grabs him by the arms and yells at him, desperately, “NO YOU AREN'T!!”

* Heather grabs Sierra and Courtney grabs Cody to separate them. Cody promptly runs away and Sierra promptly gets yelled at by Heather (not because she cares, but because Cody being injured would make him a liability.)

* On Team Chris’s side, Alejandro, Owen, Duncan and Tyler are huddled discussing the incident. Owen tries his best to be on Noah's side, defending him, but Alejandro twists the story to paint Noah as the one in the wrong. Owen doesn’t want to admit he’s making sense. Duncan is completely against Noah, backing up Alejandro. Tyler however doesn’t participate until Noah gets fed up of the not-so whispering and storms out of first class.

* Cast regroups for the challenge rules and Noah joins Cody's side, quipping something I can’t remember. Cody quips back. Sierra pushes Noah to the ground in response, pretending to be in on the joke.

* The “Courtney throwing challenges” bit is replaced by Tyler watching/paying extremely close attention to Noah to determine if Noah’s situation is sympathetic or immoral. Noah gets more mad the longer the episode goes on cause Tyler isn’t exactly subtle.

* Cody finds the cloning pod and makes Alien Cody like in canon. [I’m making him a bit more curious and a bit less initially threatening, like he has Cody’s thoughts and opinions and feelings.] Alien Cody approaches the real Cody slowly, and Sierra finds them. She’s shocked at first: “Two Codys?” Then she starts wondering, and asks the Alien Cody a question. “Do… you love me?” Alien Cody sticks its tongue out at her and scurries away.

* Once Sierra and Cody are alone together, Sierra tells him she’ll forgive him. Cody is confused. Sierra explains. “Obviously Noah got into your soft, easily manipulated mind, and that was wrong of him!” She grabs Cody’s face. “But don’t worry.” She leans in and puckers her lips. Cody looks at her horrified. “I can fix it.”

* Before Noah and Cody find each other, Noah finds Alien Cody. He thinks it’s the real one at first, approaching it casually. He then notices the messy hair, green tinted skin and the eyes (which I’m making entirely black cause these are pencil drawings with no color) and becomes more cautious towards it. “You’re not Cody. What… are you?” ET finger touch.

* Duncan sees this from afar and yells at Noah: “Are you *seriously* messing with Cody right now?!” Noah tries to respond: “I’m not! This isn’t-“ Alien Cody interrupts him with a growl directed at Duncan. He charges towards him with malicious intent and Duncan punches him, making him explode into goop. Noah does not falter. “Way to kill our winning ticket, idiot.” Duncan does not hesitate. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you.”

~ *[Events of the comic]* ~

* Team Amazon makes it back to Chris with an artifact first and win the challenge. Cody looks back at Noah (whose team was only slightly behind his own) sympathetically. Noah looks back with understanding. I want to say Sierra’s slightly too loud and exited about NOT the Amazons winning, but of team Chris losing. Tyler (who’s paying way too much attention now) notices and comes to a conclusion.

* Owen gets voted off this episode for being dead weight, and he and Noah hug before he jumps. Owen tells Noah to “win for him” and Noah replies that he makes no promises… but he’ll try.

Sorry that’s. Like a lot. The story kinda got away from me

[sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs]

Duke Thomas headcannons becuase please just write him as a black boy:

the first time there’s a summer rain at night after he moves into Wayne Manor Duke sets up the speakers and the floodlights and lives out his 00’s rnb music video dreams

after that Alfred will sometimes drive him around in the back of one of the cars when it rains at night because he doesn’t want his latest grandson to get hypothermia but understands that it is very important to live out 00’s rnb music video dreams

Duke teaches Cass the Usher watch this thing and originally they only use it to tell each other that they’re gonna do some dumb shit but then Cass decides she really likes it and uses it more than the actual sign

Duke and Cass have a theme song because they are besties and that theme song is black and yellow by Wiz Khalifa whenever it plays they drop everything to rap to each other and if anyone turns it off before it finishes they start it again even louder it becomes a great distraction technique for other batfamily members. they chose the song because of their uniforms but the first time a civilian sees how enthusiastic they are about the song they draw a different conclusion and they find it so funny that they definitely have to keep it as their theme song from now on

Duke lives a no shoes in the house life no matter who’s house it is or what everyone else is doing

He also keeps his Signal uniform exclusively in the batcave because no uniforms in the Manor seems like the natural extension for no outside clothes in bed

Duke sneaks scotch bonnets into the Manor kitchen generally timed with the occasions that Jason is around and in the mood to cook. Dinner those nights feature running eyes and noses from Bruce Tim and Steph along with all the milk in the Manor finishing. It’s great entertainment for Duke Cass Damian Jason and Dick

Duke has locs he lowkey thinks about bleaching the ends to match the aesthetic of his uniform but he’s unsure of if it will make him to conspicuous

When he first moved to the Manor he got pooled into the schedule to pick up hair shop (beauty supply store) supplies with the Fox’s because they’re all way too busy of people to be driving out of the way individually so it only made sense to add Duke to that. He and Tam also timetable his retwist appointments with her hair appointments for the same time

Duke is an instigator Jason and Tim will be having a petty squabble that is about to fizzle out but then Duke walks past them and just whispers a quick “if I were you I wouldn’t have that” and then an hour later a priceless vase is broken there’s holes in the wall and Tim and Jason have matching black eyes. Duke considers it a public service to provide Babs with entertainment for when Oracle hours a slow she agrees and doesn’t snitch on just how much shit Duke starts so he can get away with even more

Duke joins Jason and Alfred’s book club and the first book he picks is Beloved because like they’re in this big old gothic manor respect the aesthetic

One time Bruce walks passed Duke on ft to his friends and he’s performing “Wisdom” and Bruce thinks it’s something Duke came up with himself and is trying to be a supportive dad and is like “that’s great son” with a really strained smile and Duke just sticks to the bit like “you really think so?” bruce even more pained “yeah it’s amazing”

He also has exclusively satin pillowcases and gives everyone in the Manor a set because it’s good for the hair and therefore a good use of Bruce’s rich people money

Duke upon realising that he was gonna be adopted by a bunch of crime fighting pseudofurries and was going to join them in the crime fighting said this some white people shit and that’s why he chose Signal rather than some bioluminescent bird

[damn-stark]

Chapter 21 Icarus

Chapter 21 of Moonlight

A/N- Someone makes a special appearance in this chapter!

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, violence and blood, ANGST!!, fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 449-452

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

As if kept apart for years with just distorted words repeating in his mind, and only able to cling onto the ghost of your scent to try and keep your memory alive, when night falls and you’re laying in bed, Aemond holds onto your waist with a tight grip as if he faltered even a bit you would slip from existence. He buries his face in your lap and occasionally you feel wet kisses pressed against your flesh.

His demand to be clinging when you returned from scouting is not something that bothers you, you quite enjoy him not being able to be without you. You find solace in the warmth of his hand when you navigate through corridors, and feel giddy when you catch his lingering stares that burrow deep within you as if he’s trying to grasp the fact that you’re by his side.

It’s all so sweet and you love it when Aemond is sweet. Yet you can’t help but start to wonder why he hardly let you out of his sight since you returned from scouting.

“Is something wrong?” You finally break the peaceful silence and stroke his hair.

Aemond remains as he is for a moment before he just slightly tilts his head up to look at you between the strands of his hair that stick to his face. “Does there have to be something wrong for me to be this way with you? It’s not uncommon for us to lie like this.”

“I know,” you say softly as you gently tuck his hair behind his ear. “It’s just…I don’t know…I feel like something’s wrong with you. Are you okay?”

Aemond holds onto your gaze and tries to brush you off, but those three words seem to cause him to fight an inner conflict that makes his eye soften and then harden before a swift conclusion brings tears to his eye, causing your eyebrows to immediately furrow out concern while your breath hitches out of surprise because he’s being so expressive.

“Aemond?” You whisper and slide your hand down to cradle his cheek.

Said man slowly pulls his hands off your waist to grab your hand on his cheek and press a lingering kiss on the heel of your hand, making you grow even more concerned.

“Can I just look at you for a moment?” He asks and your eyebrows knit together before you lean toward him and probe.

“Aemond what is it?” You have to keep probing before your concern kills you, but your dearest husband just sighs deeply and continues with silence while he makes your hands slip off his face as he sits up with his head hanging low.

You want to keep pressing him with words, but you use a more desperate plea by brushing his hair back with your hands before you grab his face and find his gaze to plead that way. Desperately and deeply concerned.

Albeit Aemond presses his forehead against yours and draws in a deep breath with his eye closed.

“My love,” you coo, and he keeps quiet for a moment longer before he pulls back to face you and finally speak about what's troubling him so.

“You are…” he trails off in a whisper and his gaze slowly slides off you.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

Said man’s gaze slowly drifts to the corner of the room and remains in the shadows before he blinks and looks back at you with a more determined gaze.

“You are to remain out of war councils,” he speaks in a voice slowly lacing with a coldness so you know that this is no jest. “You are to stop dueling and scouting. And most importantly you will not under any circumstance take part in any battle be it in the sky, on the sea, or the ground.”

Your concern falls as you’re struck with disbelief. “This,” you stammer. “This is some jest.” You shake your head. “It has to be because—it’s not funny, Aemond.”

He clenches his jaw and averts his gaze as he shakes his head. “No, it is not some jest. It’s how things will be from now on.”

Your eyes widen with that same disbelief still running its course within you as it doesn’t fully hit you just yet that what he speaks of is real.

“You…” you trail off to slide off the bed. Aemond quickly mirrors you and follows after you as you stride away from the bed. When he captures your arm you turn around with a look of hurt painted on your face—“Am I not good enough? I can try harder, I can. Just…don’t make me stop.”

Aemond’s gaze softens again and he grabs you with both hands now.

“No,” he rebuttals right away. “It’s not that. You are great, but—”

“Is it what Ser Criston said in the corridor?” You cut him off in a sudden burst of anger. “Because if it is, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just some low-life knight who doesn’t know anything about Targaryens.”

Aemond shakes his head and swallows thickly before he interjects to finally give reason to his decision. “It’s a decision I made myself because I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out there while you’re with child. It’s a war, not some game. I can’t put you at risk. I won’t.”

A flicker of hurt passes through you, threatening you towards using sorrow to argue back, but the anger and frustration burst through, drowning out the sadness that built up at his words since he knows that being cast aside is something that wounds you deeply.

“You,” you mutter before you yank your arms out of his grasp and push him back over and over again with each word that leaves past your lips. “It’s always you. You. You. You! What about me?!” You bark and push him back one more time before you stand up straight with your chest puffed out, your lips parted as you heave, and your gaze spewing rage and disbelief that still lingers within you. “What about what I want, huh?! What about what I want, Aemond!”

“I just want to protect you!” He counters back but not in the same anger you display, he just feels frustrated because you’re not understanding. “I’m protecting you, don’t you see that?!”

“I can protect myself!” You hit your chest. “You've seen that! You can’t make me stand idly by your side! I will not be gawked at! I can fight,” you cry. “I can do it! I am something, I am someone! I have,” you exhale. “I have proved it. I have.” You nod gently as you lose that rage and agony returns.

“I won’t lose you,” Aemond’s voice breaks whilst his gaze is pointed at you as he’s feeling nothing but determination to defend his decision even if you keep arguing. “I won’t. I cannot lose you!”

You take a moment to catch your breath and process the agony behind his own words. When you have somewhat calmed down you step toward him and look at him softly. ��You won’t lose me. I’m here. I will always be here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Aemond drops his head and draws in a deep breath. “You won’t. That’s right,” he whispers before he brings his head up and looks at you with a narrowed look. “I already told you. You will not take part in any fighting of any kind, or any war councils. You will remain Princess Regent, but that’s all you’ll be, no more Blood Dragon or Fire Demon. I’m sure you can do a lot of Regent duties even from here.”

You nod gently and slowly lower your gaze to try and find your thoughts on the ground. Anywhere really. Yet all that you can come across is more disbelief that leaves you saying only one single word that holds no meaning. “Alright.”

You then shove past him and as you grab your robe he questions your actions that you hardly give any thought to. “Where are you going?”

You stride to the doors and give your answer to the moist air. “The Godswood. Can I do that?”

Aemond calls out your name to retort your sassy remark, but you just leave your quarters in a huff. When you’re in the corridor you take a torch from the wall and pace down the corridors like a ghost haunting the castle with your mind still focused on your argument, and don’t snap out of your stupor until you’re outside with your feet in the cold lakes shore.

The cold water forces you to take in your surroundings and wonder what changed and why so suddenly.

Is it really because of what he mentioned? Or is it something else? Something far more complicated like him not thinking you’re good enough.

Why?

You don’t—you can’t just sit by with a plastered smile watching as the world goes on living around you like you’re some caged bird. You have to be more than that right?

Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re forever destined just to be unremarked and not amount to a thing. Just a forgotten name with a forgettable face.

Is that all you are to this world? To everyone you cherish?

You are more than that…

Cregan would think so. But would he have done the same thing as Aemond? You have to wonder as you look across the lake with just the stars as your company, unbeknownst to the fact that on a small hill that overlooks the Gods Eye, the soul you think of has you in his mind and wonders when he’ll have to stop depending on just his memories to see you again. He wonders how you are after the death of your beloved brother, and if you’re okay; that one is heavy in his mind because there’s only so much he hears about you and it's never what he truly desires to know. And it’s not like you can send each other letters anymore.

Even if you are so close to one another during this tragic war, it still feels like the same distance between Winterfell and King’s Landing stands between you since letters can’t be exchanged, and neither of you can see face to face even if you are so close.

Memories are all you have, and it’s why you realize that Cregan wouldn’t be much different than Aemond. Cregan is protective too, more stubbornly so. Which is why it’s not like you can go to him either, you would be stuck in the same predicament.

And the same goes for your mother, so there’s truly nowhere you belong now—

Maybe at the bottom of that lake…

Nevertheless, because of the silence that surrounds you at night, it’s easy to catch the sound of footsteps approaching, and recognize that they’re lighter than Aemond’s would be, so it’s not him. It can only be a select few, so you turn around and your curiosity is answered when you see Alys approaching.

“It’s late, why are you not abed?” You break through the sound of crickets singing in the distance.

“I wonder the same thing about you,” she redirects and then falls by your side before she continues. “Troubles with your husband?”

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around before you exhale slowly and walk over to a large rock to sit on it. “Tell me why you’re still here Alys. You’re a witch, I imagine it’s easy finding ways to leave these wetlands.”

Alys mingles by the lake for a moment before she turns around and drags her feet toward you to sit on a lower rock next to you. “This is my home,” she puts it simply. “Where would I go?”

You glance across the lake with a longing look and sigh deeply before sharing the first place that comes to mind. A place you haven’t dreamt of going to in some time. “Yi-Ti. I heard it's beautiful there, full of wonderful and bad people alike. It’s somewhere far, where you can be something...”

Alys steals a look at you before she sits up and keeps her eyes on the horizon. “Have you considered it? You have a dragon and money that a lot of people only dream about. I imagine it would be easy for you too.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and nod slowly as you look up at the endless sky now. “I could go to King’s Landing and take my son and leave to never return. It would be easy, I could be something there that I’m not allowed to be here.”

Alys nods gently in comprehension. “But it would be selfish,” she says words that go against her nod, words that cut you deeply. “Leaving it all behind because of what? A disagreement.”

You scoff as you drop your head. “No,” you mutter. “It’s…you wouldn’t get it.”

“Perhaps so. Then leave.”

You don’t know her so you can’t take apart her words and understand if she’s leading you on or being serious. Thus you slowly raise your head to look at her, catching her gaze already on you with nothing but sincerity. She’s serious, she’s pushing you to do what you want and that slight pressure is what makes you falter. Just enough for her to pick you apart.

“Why is it that you’re so dedicated to your Prince?” She asks and looks with a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Your dragon is not chained and you’re not chained, you may leave whenever you desire. Yet even with your mother on that throne you still stick by him, why?”

It’s simple. The answer is quick to come to mind and slip past your tongue. “Because he loves me selfishly. All of me, the dark part of me. Because loving him is consuming in the best way possible. Because he understands the inner workings of my conflicted soul and to let him go…would be like losing a part of my soul.”

Alys sighs deeply and doesn't fret to speak boldly. “And what about the Wolf of the North?”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief, and there in the depths of your chest, where your heart used to be is a faint jolt. Be it nerves or some reconnection to what you thought was lost, you don’t know. All you know is that you feel it.

“He,” you whisper with no control of your words, it’s easy to speak to her. Even if you don’t know her you know for some reason that nothing you say will be spread like a disease. “He has this way that he looks at me…like no matter how dark, how far, or how many people may be swarming him he only has eyes for me. He will always find me. He looks at me like he’s found salivation, hope. Loving him is exciting,” your words come easy, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Maybe it was because it was a secret, but…I don’t believe that to be true.” You sigh shakily and drop your head once again.

Alys hums and gently hits the side of her thigh before she quips. “I don’t envy you. Loving two people sounds exhausting.”

You shake your head to contradict her and try to say it’s the farthest thing from the truth, but you don’t want her to ask you to pick one so you stay quiet. Not because it’s hard, it’s easy. You truly, honestly, and deeply love them both.

You do. It’s selfish, yes, but it’s true.

“You can’t leave,” Alys returns your conversation to what you were initially speaking of before she sidetracked you. “Not to Yi-Ti, and not to King’s Landing. Not yet.”

You drag your leg up to prop your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on your hand as you look at her with confusion. “Why is that?” You probe. “At least in King’s Landing, I can be with my son.”

Alys draws out deeply and slowly meets your gaze. “Because then all of that wisdom that I let you see will be for nothing…”

You blink slowly in disbelief and sit up as your face goes hard. “What do you mean?” You ask in a threatening manner.

“Just that. I let you see the truth about your father and your mother's plan. It was me,” she reveals, and it clicks. That’s why she was so familiar. That’s why it feels like you know her, because of that vision in the fire that she gave you.

“Why?” You deadpan without blaming her for anything. You’re honestly thankful that she let you see the truth.

“Because you would have died otherwise,” she shares, making you scoff—“And that can’t happen yet. I needed you to go down a different path in life.”

“You know,” you interject and get up to look at the stars with an inkling of frustration. “I am getting sick of people telling me I am going to die, and trying to save me from it.”

Alys follows you to your feet and takes a step forward to grab your attention and make sure you’re meeting her eyes and not lost in the stars as she reaches deep within her to share what you need to hear. So you know that you don’t need to exhaust yourself to prove yourself. So you can see clearly what you are, what people like Aemond and your mother see, but you don’t. She wants you to know who you have been all along.

“Listen to me, I know how you feel. I have lived a long time, I have gone through the trials you are facing in life, and it’s why I’m telling you that you need to stop thinking that you’re lesser than you are. It’s not true. I saw it, everyone that resides in this castle saw it, and you know it.”

Your eyes water and for the first time since Jacaerys died those tears break out and roll down your cheeks. “How do you know?” Your voice quivers.

Alys’ eyes dig deeper in your watery gaze to connect deeper with you so you know that every word that is going to come out of her is the truth. “I know because there’s already whispers about you traveling throughout the Kingdoms. They whisper about the Fire Demon born to the Queen. The Fire Demon who damned the Triarchy. Fear is gripping onto them because of you. Because of what you are and what you were gifted with. The Princess who rose from the ashes. A warrior and so much more.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smirk, but that pride that starts to rummage within you doesn’t get a secure hold of you yet. Disbelief and confusion still linger.

“That’s who you are,” she presses confidently. “But not all you will be.”

You tilt your head up as you start to grow smug.

“You need only keep walking down that path, if you steer away because of your own doubt and insecurity you will lose and everything that you fear will come true.”

Self-doubt whispers in your ear to not trust her, it sinks its claws deep in your flesh and wants to sabotage you. It threatens to. “How do you know? How do you know I won’t steer? Hope?” Your doubt speaks for you, making Alys raise her head and scoff.

“Hope is folly. Hope doesn’t make change, we do.” She speaks with confidence laced in every single word, reassuring you, and fighting off that doubt that gripped onto you until you don’t even feel it linger. You trust her completely and get rid of that doubt you carried about yourself and that tormented you after your argument with Aemond.

Alys sees that with a glimmer in your eyes and her own smugness only heightens. And it’s also because you choose to trust her blindly that she steps back and points to the Godswood in the distance. “Come, I need you to see something.”

She walks ahead while you linger behind and look back at the lake with a flicker of longing to see those grey eyes that paid your mind a visit.

Yet you don’t linger behind too long, you catch up to Alys and she leads you right to the base of the Weirwood tree where you’re face to face with the weeping face, and hear it again. The whispers from before. And like the other times, they are incoherent, but louder and louder, urging you to reach for the white-wooded tree. Yet no matter how inclined you are to come in touch with the dripping sap your eyes are the only thing you keep on the tree.

That is until Alys’ cold hand wraps around yours and she lifts it for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask as you drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes, and all she does is hum her response before she connects the tip of your fingers to the crimson sap that falls down the white bark.

Right away the whispering is silenced and a soft humming fills your ears with a melody you recognize as a haunting one from the book of songs and ballads Aemond gifted you. It slowly grows louder and goosebumps slowly grow along your skin while the red sap that runs down the bark grows thicker and flows down faster, covering your hand completely before it drops on the ground.

You follow the substance down with your eyes and there reflected on the surface of the thick sap is a pair of eyes that are not yours. This pair of eyes are sharper, they carry a venom in the blue of their eyes.

You want to identify who it is. You want to narrow your gaze to see if the answer will become clear, but then the gaze turns away and disappears from the puddle of red sap. You quickly look up to try and catch who it is you saw, but suddenly you’re transported to a battlefield stained with splotches of thick blood, littered with bodies both cut up and burnt and lively with bodies still alive and fighting. Night is turned to evening, and the sun is a raging red with all the smoke that pollutes the sky.

The pair of eyes you saw reflected in that puddle of sap now has a womanly body with gold-silver hair gathered in a long braid. She carries the Valyrian sword, Blackfyre, in one hand that’s stained with blood, and carries another object in the other, but that’s something you don’t see, all you know is that it’s leaking blood and that you grow insatiably curious to the point that you follow the woman in a stomping stride.

However, when you reach a large boulder right in the center of the battlefield and catch up to the woman, she slowly starts to peer back, but you can't stop storming forward. You can’t stop. There’s a certain ferocity that fuels your blood, one so hot that you burn but don’t hurt. The burning is delicious and enthralling. When you get to the point that you go through the woman you were following, the woman that was guiding you to that boulder in the middle of the bloody battlefield, you can see in a pool of blood around your feet that who you see looking back at you now is yourself.

You can see yourself clearly in that pool of blood, donning a black chainmail gown with a gold chest plate slathered in blood. Meanwhile, your head is covered with gold chainmail, and over your face are blood-soaked chains that fall down your face like a bleeding veil, and don’t hide the venom in your eyes that matches the woman you can now identify as Queen Visenya Targaryen. She was the one guiding you here, through the thick of the battle, and now you took her place. Now you hold the blood-soaked sword and…a head.

It’s you. All you. It’s your future. It’s not something that’s said, but it is something you know for certain. This is you. You stand on the battlefield and you climb up the boulder dragging the tip of Blackfyre against the stone. When you reach the top you stand over a battlefield that’s a lot thicker and bloody, filled with large men with grey beards, and others that all fight under the same banner as you; the banner that belongs to your mother, the Queen.

Once again nothing is outright spoken to you, but you know the context deep within and you grow proud, just like you grow proud of the head you carry. Albeit unlike the knowledge just given to you, this time you can’t identify the head you carry. They have manly features so you know they’re a man, young too, with blond-silver hair, and one brown eye that stares off at the ground because the other has an arrow punctured through it. Which only feeds your curiosity, but you don’t grow ravenous to put a name to the face, you grow enthusiastic and malicious as you tilt your head up and face the army of men.

“The Daring is dead!” Your voice booms, and when the attention of your men is given to you, you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy and all the men cry out cheers.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” Is scattered around the field and more goosebumps grow along your skin.

“FOR—“ you cut yourself off as a large shadow is cast over you, and when you roll your head back to look up, you catch a small dragon torpedoing to you with its mouth open. Yet even if you see the dark she-dragon filling her mouth with fire as she comes at you, you don't run because you know Astraea is behind you and flying directly toward the threat to protect you. And you especially don’t try to take cover or shield yourself from the fire because you know you won’t burn. You welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile.

Nevertheless, as the dragon fire bathes you, suddenly the hot blazing flames are not what hits you. Suddenly you’re smacked with a sharp and bitter coldness that forces you to turn your face away to shield your eyes.

After the breeze passes you slowly drop your hand, open your eyes, and get greeted with a fresh blanket of snow in every perimeter your eyes can see. When you fulfill your need to lift your head, you’re now hit with a wave of emotions that is not laced with venom; all the emotions are warm and blissful which make your heart swoon rather than race with malicious excitement because what you see is joy.

There’s no question about it. You’re overfilled with joy as you see a young man with dark brown curly hair wearing thick and warm winter clothes, and a thick grey fur cloak clasped over his back.

“Mother,” a soft voice speaks and you can’t help but gasp at the sound of his voice that you know deep in your bones does not belong to Aerion. This young man is different, younger than your Aerion, but he is still your…son. Your youngest boy. You know that, you feel that deep inside you. He calls out to you from where he stands in front of a large Weirwood tree in a familiar Godswood up North.

“My boy,” you whisper softly and he drops his clasped hands before slowly turning to you, causing your breath to catch in your throat when you meet his big soldem grey eyes.

“You…” he trails off and flashes you a charming smile. “Look at you.”

Tears fill your eyes and before you know it you march over to him and the first you do is grab his face. “Look at you,” you redirect and caress his cheeks, making him drop his head to hide his timid smile.

“<Please stop crying>,” he whispers in High Valyrian. “<We’ll meet again. When our time comes.>”

He lifts his head and his eyebrows furrow as his gaze grows just as serious as a man you know.

“<You look like your father>,” you comment as you study his face.

The young man scoffs and grabs your hands you keep on his face. “<Listen>,” he says and makes you find his gaze.

“<Let me look at you>,” you plead, making a warm smile melt that ice-cold expression. “<How can I see you again? How can I be certain that our paths will cross?>”

The same serious expression returns to his features as he gives you an answer. “<You must go home, mother. You will come across a crossroads again. You’ll know it when you get there, and when you do, you need to go home…back to her. That’s where you belong, she’s never forsaken you. Neither of them ever did.>”

You nod even if deep inside you don’t know if you mean it. How can you with the shattered heart that she took part in breaking?

“<After that you must deliver them to victory. Lead them. Be the great fire, for Winter is coming, Mother, and we need to light the way for The Prince that was Promised.>”

He then points his finger to the side and as you follow the direction he points to you don’t come across the thick of the forest that fills the Godswood, you see an endless dryland horizon that is cast by a blazing sun and there sitting in the midst of the drylands is a woman sat with no clothes, she’s nude, and giving her back to you.

Yet even if her back is to you, making her unidentifiable there’s a sense of familiarity—no, that’s wrong, you have seen her before in another vision. You know her. And this time she carries with her three hatchlings; a black, a green, and a cream-colored hatchling that all cling to her.

There she is, The Prince that was Promised. And then she isn’t. All of sudden you’re back in the cover of night at the Godswood of Harrenhal, feeling an emptiness, and a deep aching longing to be returned to your youngest son.

“Let me see him again,” you break the silence and spin around, coming face to face with Alys. “Please. One more time.”

Alys shakes her head stiffly. “No. You will meet again.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and even if you want to argue you just keep your head down and accept it, letting a silence seep in.

“You know what you must do. You know your place now,” Alys interjects as she reaches over and grabs your shoulder to make you slowly find her gaze.

“I’m a woman. How can I lead anyone?” You place doubt in yourself and your place.

“I already told you why you can lead. You know who you are at this point of our story,” she reassures you as she holds your gaze intently. “Don’t underestimate faith, Princess. They see you, the Princess unscathed by fire, and they see all their prayers answered.”

Without speaking a word you ask with your eyes alone if she’s sure, and without saying a word in return she looks at you with a hint of smugness mingling in her smirk.

You hold her gaze as you draw out a deep breath and push out all the lingering doubt with it to mirror her smirk in the darkness of the Godswood.

——

*4 MONTHS LATER*

It’s been four months of being in the Riverlands, at Harrenhal, which has not turned out to be so bad with Alys becoming your best friend. You’ve been inseparable since that night at the Godswood, much to Aemond’s dismay. And the only thing you can say since those four months is how much you hate about being away from Aerion for so long.

It’s been four months since you’ve seen his little face and his little smile, and it’s been four long months since you’ve heard a single word of him. All you know is that he’s 9 months old now and probably spoiled rotten by your mother. Vanessa hasn’t been able to send anything on any matter, nor can you send a raven asking for an update because of the tension between the fractions. You’re left in the dark with only Alys’ reassuring word as an offer.

She says you’ll see Aerion soon, and you believe her. You wish she could say more, you want to know more, but she can only tell you so much because she says that knowing too much of the future is a burden you don’t want. And you don’t argue about it either, you know Helaena, and you know how her dreams weigh down on her. And with everything already going on, you don’t want to carry that on your shoulders, so you don’t bother to ask about the future, it’s already changed you as it is.

You can’t say it hasn’t, because it has. It’s changed your fight. Once you fought for your own selfish desire to stay alive; and yes even now that instinct still resides within you, but there’s also something else that lives within you; a need to fight for something grander.

You must light the way and so you shall. That’s what you’re meant to do. That guarantees that the future of your house, your bloodline, and that of your family's bloodline, flourishes. That guarantees the birth of the Prince that was Promised. But how can you leave Aemond?

You could leave on top of Astraea any time you wanted, Aemond can’t chain her and he wouldn’t follow you to the Red Keep, but…you can’t find the need to leave him. You can’t part from him, and you can’t fathom the thought even if he’s changed as well.

Being at Harrenhal seems to have made Aemond paranoid, and more protective, and has him lost in thought a lot of the time which only leaves him more erratic. He’s more violent and prone to bursts of anger. Have you made it easier? You can’t say you have. You admit it. You’re still upset about what he forbade you from doing, of keeping you like a caged bird unable to be part of any war councils. You’re not riddled with those insecurities that once took a hold of you before, but he still has you trapped and estranged from anyone who wanders too close. You’re like his shadow, or some tapestry only good to admire. That’s what you are to him. All he lets you be to everyone accompanying you.

Yet that’s why it’s easier to hide in the shadows with Alys. No one bothers you there, only each other.

“You were right,” you tell her as you come to a stop on the balcony that overlooks that massive grande hall and see Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne preparing to leave with the army of men, but without Aemond and you.

It seems last night they had an argument about what it is that needs to be done. Food is starting to run short, horses and men are dying to sickness and hunger, and forging parties have to go past burnt fields and burnt towns alike to try and get what is needed.

Yet no matter how many forging parties leave, none return. And those Western men, well, Cregan and the Northman have really made a name for themselves when they joined forces with the Rivermen because they demolished the Western army. They took heavy losses, but at the end of the battle that the men call the Fishfeed, banners for the Queen are all that were seen.

You wish you could see the glory, but the best you could do was hear about the glory through the mouths of people who weren’t there, and Alys who paints a much more gloomy picture. Yet it’s through those words that you can say the Battle by the Lakeshore impacted your stance at Harrenhal; the glory that Aemond wanted to take from Daemon did not even grow twice the size, it was just a sad attempt that failed miserably.

And even then he refuses to leave, you can assume that’s why Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne are taking the army. There’s no need for you to be here anymore so you can only imagine they’re going to join the Hightower army now. If the Rivermen and the Northmen allow them to that is.

“You should bid your farewells,” Alys suggests as she stands by you and watches over the same scene below.

“Should I really?” You quip and press your hand on your swollen belly as you drift your gaze to focus solely on Aemond. And even if tension lies between you that has turned you both distant, you still look at him like he’s the brightest star in a sky littered with smaller and duller stars. You admire the way he stands so poised and has his jaw clenched, flexing his sharp features. You admire the way he silently damns the men with his pointed glare. And you smile softly like you do when you admire the brightest star; the morning and evening star.

“You know how much I detest Ser Criston,” you grumble to Alys. “I’m actually thrilled he’s finally leaving.”

“What of Ser Gwayne?” She then brings up. “He’s quite charming.”

You drift your gaze to her and slowly but surely realize she’s right so you push yourself away from the balcony and turn away, at that moment missing the way Aemond lifts his gaze and catches the way your gown twirls as you turn away. When you’re in the corridors and know that no soldiers are lurking in the shadows you interject. “Will it bode them well to leave?”

Alys’ gaze falls on you and she responds but with a question. “What do you think?”

You draw out a deep breath and share your running thoughts. “With the Northmen and Rivermen now standing triumphant, I’ll say they will be walking into a field of fire they won’t be able to evade.”

Alys stays quiet so you continue sharing your piece of mind. “If I had been at that council I would have advised them to do as Daemon did, take the host around the enemy and evade a fight to be able to join forces with the Hightower army. Lands there aren’t destroyed, there’s food and more horses for the taking.”

Alys turns her head as you do and you catch a proud smirk on her face, showing that she praises your response.

“Alas, you were not there. Don’t worry yourself of their struggles anymore,” she says as you both continue to look ahead.

Once you reach the great hall where Ser Criston, Ser Gwayne, and Aemond are, they all stop what they’re doing to give you their attention.

“I have come to bid my farewells,” you tell the pair of men ready to march. “Good luck in your battles to come, Ser Criston. I hope we see each other again,” you lie straight through your teeth and offer him a sweet smile before you glance at Alys to flash her sly smirk.

In return, she offers you a slight nod that you alone catch before you slide your eyes back to the knight and lift your hand to offer it to Ser Criston Cole.

The second the knight catches what you seek from him, his eyes find Aemond to speechlessly ask for an excuse to not do what you want from him and what will make him bow to you, but Aemond only backs up your request by lifting his chin and expecting the Knight to go ahead.

And thus, the Knight lowers his head from its ever so prideful hold, letting his gaze fall on your face for a second, and in doing so making you lift your nose in the air to show off your power over him because no matter if he’s a forced to be reckoned with and a legendary swordsman, all that amounts to nothing compared to you. You will always be above him in every way, and he hates that you are, he hates knowing it, and he hates seeing it on your face as you look down on him with the thick gold circlet around your head gleaming against the ray of sun that shines over you at that moment. As if the gods themselves approved of you’re holier than thou status in this world.

Then again, nothing outshines the wicked mischievousness that plays in your eyes as his gaze falls on your hand decorated with expensive rings. When he takes your hand he does so with the most delicate touch, not because he thinks you’re delicate, but because it’s eating at his pride. That’s why he's hesitant and slow as he bends down and presses his lips on your knuckles. All while you lower your head, making the chains attached to your circlet lightly clink against each other whilst your eyes show off the smugness you can’t show off with a smirk.

Once Ser Criston has done his part he pulls his hand away and stands to his given height. Yet you’re not done tormenting him yet. You proceed to step forward and press a light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Princess,” he’s forced to say.

You pull away and offer him a teasing smile you manage to play off as sincere.

“Farewell, Ser,” you offer him one last time before you roll your eyes away and face Ser Gwayne with an actual sweet smile. “Good luck to you Ser. I hope you see many victories.”

Ser Gwayne offers you a warm smile and he willingly takes your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles before you offer him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Please tell Daeron we send our greetings,” you tell him before you go. “And that we’re looking forward to joining forces with him and Tessarion soon.”

“I will,” he assures you and presses his hand on your belly. “You take care, and learn a new song so I may hear it when we reunite.”

You flash him a grin and nod in agreement before you reach over to give his arm a squeeze and then step away. After you offer both men one last look you then turn with the intention to leave, but first steal a glance at Aemond, catching his gaze on you so you let your own gaze linger on him.

“Come find me at the Godswood later,” you break the silence that was between you. “Okay?”

A flicker of relief and shock flickers in his gaze as he’s not hesitant to nod in agreement, letting you offer him a genuine and sweet smile that he doesn’t take for advantage. He cherishes the smile you offer him, the smile now rare to see directed at him. A smile so captivating he can’t help but admire you and almost leave it all behind to follow your lead at that moment as you finally walk away.

Yet even if his body turns towards you as you get further and further away, he doesn’t follow after you, he stays put and keeps in mind your invitation to go find you later.

“Has there been a sighting of Sunfyre?” You ask Alys as you make your way to the Godswood while the men that occupied the castle slowly file out. “The Golden Dragon?” You clarify.

“No, not beside the time he flew away from Rook’s Rest.” She says news you already knew but still welcome to let an idea form in your mind.

“He lived by miracle, which is great, but we’ll have to kill him,” you mention your idea. “Or his rider. Whichever it is, we can't let them reunite. The Blacks may have the numbers, but a dragon with a dragonrider is still a threat. And with the crown having the people against them, regaining Sunfyre is an advantage we can’t have.”

“What do you suppose you can do from here?” Alys remarks, making you slowly look at her with an annoyed look before you scoff and retort.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

Alys tilts her head and her lips turn to a slight smile. “I could never forget you for as long as I live.”

“Memories don’t make you laugh. I make you laugh, me,” you quip and she scoffs before she leans towards you and bumps into your side.

“I already told you…”

“We’ll never be out of each other's lives,” you finish for her since she’s already assured you of that piece of the future. “I know, but…”

“You can’t avoid your mother forever,” she adds for you, making you drop your gaze as you keep walking—“it’s not possible with the state of things.”

“I can’t leave Aemond,” you mutter and look back at her with a conflicted gaze. “He needs me too. I need him.”

“What of your son?” She counters with a comment that makes you go quiet and sorrowful all the way to the Godswood, and when you’re sitting on a boulder a few feet away from the Weirwood tree.

You can't seem to break the solemn silence that Alys cast over you as all that occupies your mind is guilt for the little one who hasn’t felt his mother’s warmth in 4 months because you can’t stop being petty, and have all your attention centered on your husband.

Aerion deserves better than that. He deserves a mother who’s there for all his needs, for all his firsts as he nears one years old, but instead, you’re here still trapped and foolishly dedicated to a man you have a strain with. You’re being selfish and meanwhile, he’s growing up without you.

“Here.”

You lift your eyes off your hands and look up to see Ser Jason approaching you with a beautifully decorated cord in his hand—“So when you miss your son you have this to remember him by when you’re apart,” he continues sharing as he comes to a stop in front of you and shows off a beautiful cord decorated with beads, shells, and an orange pearl.

“I just know how much you long to see him again, and well I thought it would be nice,” he begins to ramble nervously. “My own mother made one for me so I could remember her when I was away. Of course, I was young but it was reassuring.”

You blink repeatedly as your cheeks begin to burn out of heartwarming disbelief. “Oh,” you gasp and carefully take the cord. “Thank you, Ser. How sweet,” you coo and gently brush your thumb over the enchanting orange pearl. “How beautiful. Are you sure? This pearl…it looks rare.”

Ser Jason nods rapidly and then takes a seat next to you. “Yes, I’m sure, and it is rare, but who better to have it than you?”

A smile creeps on your lips. “Thank you, Ser, you’re sweet. And,” you pause and swallow thickly, feeling that smile fall all too fast. “I’m sorry for having you stay here,” you finally address the guilt that you carry about him. “I know it’s not ideal, it's always so gloomy here, and resources are running scarce.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he lets the word slip, making you giggle which in turn causes him to catch what slipped out of his mouth—“Forgive me that’s no way to speak. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Do not worry, Ser. It’s alright.”

Ser Jason keeps his eyes on you for a second longer as he quietly scolds you for not really correcting him the way you should, but since you don’t add on the matter he leaves it be and instead continues with what he was going to say. “I’m your sworn protector, my place is by your side even in the darkest of days.”

Your eyes soften and a smile slowly reappears on your face.

Yet like before the smile is all too short-lived when suddenly a booming voice rips through the Godswood. “YOU!”

Your eyes snap up and there stomping over is Aemond with rage twisting his face and keeping his focus locked on the man sitting next to you.

“Who do you think you are?!” He barks out. “Leave her alone!”

You stand to your feet and as you reach out to try and stop his blinding rage, Alys grabs your arm and pulls you towards her whilst Aemond reaches Ser Jason and rips him off his seat to drag him back against a wall.

“Aemond!” You bellow out. “Stop it!”

Said man wraps his hands around Ser Jason’s throat and slams his head against the stone wall, making your eyes widen with horror and confusion as to what brought this on. Ser Jason was only being nice, he wasn’t even touching you, he was just sitting next to you. That’s all!

“Aemond, leave him alone!” You try to get him away from your sworn protector, but it’s like he can’t even hear you, like once again he’s lost in a completely different world than yours.

“You’re nothing more than a bastard,” you hear Aemond sneer at your sworn protector. “You are nothing. You will never be anything, do you hear me? Do you?!”

Ser Jason manages to bring his hands up and tries to pull Aemond’s hands away, but your husband only tightens his hold, making the knight start to gasp for air.

“Do you think I’d let you get away with it?! Do you think I would let you hurt her?! Kill her?!” He keeps exclaiming and once again slams him against the wall so hard Ser Jason groans at the impact. “She’s mine,” Aemond growls. “I won’t let you hurt her!”

“Aemond!” You cry out and rip away from Alys to run over and try to pull Aemond off Ser Jason, but when Aemond feels your hands wrap around his hand he doesn’t even turn his rageful glare toward you. It’s locked on the man before him so he doesn’t see that it’s you, he just swings his arm back so hard that you lose balance and hit the floor on your side, feeling a flash of fear when you’re on the cold ground.

“Alys,” your whisper trembles and it’s at that moment when your voice hits his ears that Aemond snaps out of his blinding rage and finally sees you frozen on the ground, whilst the woman you called for rushes to your side and is quick with her efforts to help you.

“Here let’s get you up,” she insists in a hushed tone as she grabs your arm to help you to your feet. When she starts to be overbearing and examines your side, your fear slowly fades away and you’re left with a stinging pain on your side and palms.

Even then you try to play it off as you’re in disbelief as to what just happened. “I’m fine,” you try to assure her. “I think I just scraped my side.”

Alys doesn’t see any blood coming out from your sides, nor does she notice any coming out from between your legs so she then grabs your hands and yanks them towards her, noticing at that moment that your palms are the only ones that are bleeding.

“Not fine,” she quips.

You pull your hands away from her grasp and insist otherwise. “I am fine, just tend to Ser Jason. Please,” you press with both your words and your eyes.

Alys seems hesitant, but when she glances back at the man behind her standing in horrified disbelief as to what he caused, she gets the hint of what you want to do and does as you said.

However, even when she walks away with Ser Jason, you fail to face Aemond. Your mind is running wildly, bouncing from thought to thought and feeling to feeling as it’s all in shambles not knowing what to do or what to think next.

All that’s clear is that Aemond hurt you. He might have not meant it, but he hurt you. He did. And it might not hurt, it may not scar like when he accidentally slashed your cheek, but the scrapes sting and you remember the short-lived fear that you had because of the twins you’re carrying.

“I…” Aemond trails off and you hear him stepping toward you. “Are you okay?”

Those words. Those damn words always work to bring out your emotions and this time it’s no different. Yet rather than feeling cared for when he asks, you instead feel…anger. Anger that only heightens when you finally look up and meet his gaze filled to the brink with tears, worry, and guilt.

“I…” he trails off again and once again he steps towards you, but this time without stopping. He reaches you and his eyes wander your body for any blood. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know…I,” his words quiver and he finds your gaze, finding nothing more than anger in your eyes. There’s no warmth that lets him feel reassured, that lets him know you’re truly unaffected by the accident. All your anger is accumulated in your eyes at this very moment and it all stares right back at him in the face. There's not even angry words that escape you that help him work this out, which actually tells him a lot more than words ever could.

At this moment, as you glare at him, and he looks at you, he sees a decision. He sees the path that you both walked down hand in hand coming to a crossroads and breaking you apart by your choice alone. If it was up to him he would always choose to walk down the same path hand in hand, but he sees as clear as day that you’re drifting down a different path.

“I’m returning to Aerion,” is all that your anger lets you say, and it’s all that you actually want and need to say to express your resolve.

There’s no more confusion or disbelief. Only anger and resolve. Where there was once hesitance to leave Aemond, now there’s an urgency to leave. Which is why you swiftly spin around and storm away toward your quarters to try and get the belongings you can carry. You’ll have Ser Jason bring the rest by horse. You just can’t and won’t stay. No matter how much he starts pleading and spewing out apologies.

“You cannot go, your place is here with me,” Aemond says after you, but you don’t respond, you just pick up your pace.

“Are you listening?” Aemond calls out in response to your silence. “Where will you go?!”

“To my mother,” you snap back, making him lunge forward to grab your arm and turn you around to face him.

“You will be a traitor,” he sneers with his anger returning but faltering all in the same while.

“Then kill me. You can’t burn me, so you will have to kill me, Aemond,” you counter spitefully before you tilt your head and become bold. “Because I am a traitor. Before I found out my mother lied I was sending her letters about the plans you and your Green council made.” You snicker and feel a smirk twitch on your lips. While Aemond blinks in disbelief and lets you go as he tries to search in your eyes if you’re lying just to have him let you go, but all he sees is sincerity. You’re speaking the truth and when he realizes that his lips part and a breath escapes him.

And even if the sadness in his eye makes you falter, and aches your own soul, you don’t let it take over. You can’t stay a moment longer, this is not your place anymore. Not after what he did, so after a deep breath you slip away from his hold and return to your raging path.

Once you reach your chambers you don’t hear him after you so it’s easy to collect your immediate belongings and stuff them in a bag. He’s not trying to stop you like before, he’s not snatching your things out of your hands so it’s all easy.

However, as surprised and relieved as you are that there’s no fight. It was too easy indeed because the moment you turn around with the intention to walk out, the door is slammed shut and you hear a key turn before you hear something blocking the door. And since only one person was after you trying to stop you from leaving, you realize your revelation didn’t affect Aemond the way you wanted it to. He didn’t care in the grand scheme of things.

“Aemond,” you call out with confusion and drop the bag to run to the door and try to open it, but it’s locked and you’re met by an overpowering force. “Aemond?” You call out again desperately.

“I…had an inkling you were never loyal to our side. Not until you found out the truth,” his voice travels through the wooden door. “You always detested Aegon, and I always knew you had a blinding loyalty toward your mother, so as shocking as it is to hear you admit it, I expected it.”

You try to open the door again but when you’re met by the same force you tap the door with your palms. “Then just let me go. Aemond, please.”

Something presses against the surface on the other side before he speaks softer. “That was in the past, It doesn’t bother me all that much. What bothers me…what I cannot stand is you leaving, because if you leave and something…happens when I’m not there to help you I’ll lose you…” he trails off and a thump hits the door. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Aemond,” you whimper and drop your forehead against the door. “Please, my love. Please don’t lock me in here.”

“I will leave men here to make sure that nothing happens to you and make sure that you stay here. They will also guarantee that the witch brings you food and cleans what it is that needs cleaning while I’m out okay?” He says through the door. “I’ll return soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Where are you going?” You query.

Silence follows for a moment before he responds. “We’re surrounded by traitors. It’s time they pay the price, and once word reaches Rhaenyra of what is happening, Daemon will come to meet me so I stop burning their allies' lands. That’s when I’ll finally rid this world of my uncle's existence. We can win after that.”

“Aemond,” you cry out as you shake your head against the door. “Please, please don’t do this. Please.”

You hear him sigh before he speaks quietly. “I love you. There’s no one I love or could ever love more than you. It’s why I’m doing this. It’s for your own good.”

Tears slip out of your eyes while your chest clenches as you start to realize that nothing you say will change his mind. All the pleading will amount to nothing at this moment in time because he believes that what he’s saying is right. He believes that he is doing right by you.

But he’s only hurt you more, doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he hear it in your desperate pleas?

“Aemond,” you whimper.

Said man doesn’t respond with words, his shadow lingers under the door frame before it departs as you hear his footsteps recede.

“Aemond?!” You call out louder and pull your head away from the door. “Aemond?!” You cry out with tears streaming down your cheeks. “Aemond! Let me out! Let me out! Please! Let me out damn it!”

Yet no amount of shouts or desperation changes his mind. He leaves you trapped in your chambers. He leaves you alone in Harrenhal as he mounts Vhagar and ascends the skies without you.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Wrath | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: child abuse, self harm (slapping/hair pulling) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, Jeff Stranger Things, Uncle Wayne Supremacy, Good Uncle Wayne, do not fuck with that man

Eddie shivers on the front porch of his uncle’s trailer, hand curled in a fist ready to knock. Wayne works weird hours and Eddie’s brain trips and stumbles trying to do the math; it’s six p.m., would he still be in bed? But he feels the sting of the pelting rain on his back, can still feel the burn in his legs from running and the bare truth of it is he’s got no place else to go. So he knocks politely on the front door and waits. 

It doesn’t take long for Wayne to come to the door, pulling it back sharply, scowling, and Eddie just can’t deal with any more people being angry today, so he shuffles backwards. But Wayne’s eyes widen as he steps outside, no shoes on, his socks getting soaked.

“Eddie? The hell you doing out in this?” Wayne asks him but then his eyes turn sharp and beady, just like Dad’s, as he takes in the bruises that Eddie can feel pulsing under his skin, at the eye he can’t see out of anymore. He pulls Eddie inside and tells him to sit.

“Your dad do this?” Wayne asks, handing him a towel. 

Eddie shrugs. “It was my fault.” He pull his top off and Wayne’s eyes flick down to his ribs. The bruise isn’t that bad, just Dad caught him funny with that stupid ring he wears, and there’s no meat on him so it’s sore. He dries himself off best he can and Wayne gives him an old flannel in exchange for his t-shirt. It’s soft and warm and he realises how tired he is, how much he just wants to curl up on the couch and sleep, but his jeans are sticking to him like wet cardboard.

Cupboards bang, draws crash, and Eddie flinches at the noise. But then he feels the warmth of cigarette breath against his cheek as Wayne sits close to him, dabbing at a cut.

“And how’d you figure that?” 

Eddie flushes with shame. “I used up the last of the milk and bread.” He leaves out the bit where his dad called him an inconsiderate bastard. “He had nothing to eat.” 

Wayne let’s out a heaving breath, like a dragon finding its flame. “He heard of stores?”

Eddie shrugs, and shit he has to stop that, Dad hates it.

Wayne sticks a couple of plasters on him, one on his eyebrow and one on his cheek, and it dawns on Eddie he has to go to fucking school like this. Has to walk through the halls with everyone knowing his business and it makes him feel sick. 

When he’s done, Wayne puts his shoes on over his damp socks and grabs his keys.

“I got a couple of errands to run, wasn’t expecting company. You got a friend you can stay with for a while?”

He nods, quick as a flash. “Jeff.”

Eddie’s wrapped in Wayne’s big coat, sitting in his stinky old truck as he drives them to the other side of town, the one with the nice houses, and the nice yards with the flower beds. Eddie’s only been here once or twice and he wasn’t sure if Jeff’s mom actually liked him or not, she was awful religious, but then so was Wayne so maybe they’d get on.

They pull up and Eddie leads the way, feeling the comforting weight of his uncle’s hand firm on his shoulder as he rings the doorbell. It only takes a moment for the door to open, Mrs Williams standing there looking like the lady from the Dawn advert, all smart blouse and apron. She sees Wayne first and then looks at Eddie and lets out a little gasp.

“I’m awful sorry to bother you ma’am, but Eddie says he’s friends with your boy?”

Mrs Williams looks shocked. “Jeffrey didn’t do this!”

“No, no,” Wayne says quickly. “I know that. It’s just that, I wasn’t expecting Eddie this evening and I have to take care of a couple of things and I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I wondered if he could sit with your boy for an hour or so?”

She thinks on it a little too long, and Eddie has no doubt she’s about to give them some excuse on why he can’t come in, but Jeff is bounding up the hallway.

“Eddie! Holy— what happened?”

“Jeffrey,” she scolds. But then she sighs and says, “I guess that would be fine.”

Jeff drags him to his bedroom and they flop to the floor together, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. 

"Your dad’s an asshole,” Jeff whispers. 

Eddie sniffs. “Yeah.” 

“Wanna play Atari?”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t have the energy for words tonight but Jeff seems to get it and they play Street Racer in silence before Mrs Williams calls them for dinner. It’s a real hot dinner, too. Not that he minds Sugar Smacks or Kraft Singles, he fucking loves Kraft singles, but it’s cold out and he hasn’t had lasagne in a long time.

Sitting at the table with Jeff and his sister and Mrs Williams is warm and cosy, but it strikes him hard that this isn’t his life, that Wayne will take him home tonight, once Dad has had time to calm down, and he’ll smooth it over like he always does and then Eddie will go back to that miserable house that hasn’t been a home in six years.

It’s nearly eight p.m when Wayne finally returns. There’s hushed voices on the doorstep before Mrs Williams calls for him. 

“See you at school tomorrow?” asks Jeff, pulling Eddie into a crushing hug.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They break apart but he doesn’t want to leave. He feels such a deep stab of jealousy at Jeff’s perfect family and perfect home, at his Atari and his nice clothes. At his safety. All the things he will never have. 

He says thank you to Mrs Williams and trudges up the path to Wayne’s truck.

Wayne pushes the passenger door open for him and the cab light comes on, shining harshly on Wayne’s face. There’s a deep red mark under his eye, like he got caught with a ring, and he’s wiping at his nose, dots of blood on his shirt. But it’s his hands that Eddie fixates on, the knuckles purpling, scraped and split, his right looking swollen and painful, and Wayne’s face pinches as he tries to stretch it.

“Uncle Wayne?” he says with a shaky voice.

“I got your things. You’re staying with me now.” Wayne turns the key in the ignition and glances across at Eddie. “That okay?”

He says it like it holds no weight. Like it’s nothing that Eddie doesn’t have to go back. Like it’s nothing that the weight that crushes his chest all the fucking time just got lifted.

And with the weight gone it all rushes to the surface, a pathetic little choked sob at first while he tries to keep it in, because you must never cry, it’s fucking weak, you’re so fucking weak, Eddie, you’re nothing, Eddie, you’re stupid, Eddie. He smacks his face, tries to pull at what’s left of his hair but Wayne’s got his hands on him, hard and unyielding but not mean. Not angry.

“Stop that now. It’s okay, Eddie,” Wayne says, gently. “He won’t lay another hand on you. Promise.”

Wayne pulls him in, awkward across the console. He’s not a toucher, Wayne, not big on hugs and kisses, always used to shake Eddie’s hand when he was little rather than kiss him goodbye, but he wraps Eddie in his arms and squeezes now, erases the fear, makes him feel wanted. Eddie feels like he can breathe, like there’s actual air in his lungs for the first time in so long. 

Eddie doesn’t stop crying, because now he doesn’t have to.

@the-unforgivenn ❤️

(Please god let me have caught all the typos)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 1 - Voyeurism

Kate Laswell x Bricks (CIA Asset OC)

CW: Dub-con/Non-con voyeurism (one person is not aware they are being watched), surveillance, sex work, dirty talk, degradation, impact play, daddy kink, too many mirrors, too much setup and an abrupt ending, big dogs

“Got me Watcher?” Bricks covers the movement of her mouth by touching up her lipstick in the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“Coming in clear,” Kate answers. “Go ahead and run a final calibration on the lenses.” She marks the edges of the camera range as Bricks sweeps her eyes in a practiced pattern to confirm the fit and function of the contacts. When she crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, confusing the feed, Kate chuckles. “Save it for Mendoza.”

“Please,” Bricks snickers. “My best is wasted on him.”

The doors open. Two large men, Mendoza’s bodyguards, usher Bricks forward. Real professionals, Kate notes, neither of them letting their eyes linger on stunning legs or exposed cleavage. One waves a wand over her, hair to heels, and the other takes the clutch from Bricks’ hand. He rifles through it, then doesn’t give it back.

“My second best lipstick is in there,” Bricks protests, half-heartedly. “I’m gonna want that back, later.”

“You’ll get it back when you leave,” the man grunts. “Come with us please.”

“Give me doors,” Kate instructs as they proceed down the hall. The cameras flick almost aimlessly as her asset strides between her escorts, but Kate is ready. “Left again,” she murmurs, quickly tagging frames for review. “Good girl.”

Once Bricks is handed off to Mendoza, the real work starts. Dinner goes as expected. Mendoza brags and paws. Bricks is charming, flirty, and teasing. She plays every bit of her part while Kate half listens and reviews data on the guards. Contractors, she notes as Bricks titters about something. Mendoza is just oggling her tits, so Kate continues reading the dossier. Contractors, good ones. Ex-military, but unlikely to see Bricks for the threat she is. The only problem will be-

“Puppies,” Bricks coos, as two Rottweilers come trotting up to the table. “I love dogs. How old are they?”

“They’re trained as part of the security detail,” Kate states as Mendoza goes on about pedigree. “German commands.”

Bricks kisses one of the dogs on the snout. “Do they know any tricks?”

“They’re trained killers,” the mark brags. “Only listen to me and designated handlers.”

“The handler command is folge mir,” Kate provides. Luckily, Bricks isn’t able to comment on her abysmal accent. “Ruhig. Geh runter.”

It doesn’t take long for Mendoza to send the dogs away, tired of not being the center of attention. And Bricks plays him like a fiddle, drawing him all around the penthouse to give Kate sight lines, the layout, and an unobstructed view of the server room through the kitchen.

When he finally catches her, Kate cant help but snort. “Is he as bad a kisser as he sounds? Your not usually this all over the place."

Bricks doesn’t bother to hold back a soft laugh. Mendoza lifts his mouth from her neck with an almost affronted grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” she giggles, with a peck to his lips. “Ticklish, and I just feel good with you.”

“Can I make you feel better?”

“Here’s hoping,” Kate mutters as she counts server racks in Bricks’ periphery. The woman’s laugh rings off the marble counter tops.

Kate doesn’t bother watching the feed as Bricks kisses Mendoza down the hall, eyes closed to avoid any chance he might notice her contacts. When she opens her eyes again, Kate stifles a groan and pulls out her cigarettes. Mendoza’s bedroom has an entire wall of mirrors, and another on the wall above his headboard. Bricks kisses him some more, but in no time, she’s bent over the bed, looking at her own breasts nearly spilling from the top of her dress.

She’s there for… a lot longer than Kate expected. Whatever Mendoza is doing, she looks as bored as she ever does when she’s in character. Kate decides to step in when she moans, rote.

“Oh no,” Kate chuckles, grinning when Bricks’ eyes snap to her reflection. “I know you can do better than that. If I have to watch you have sex, you’re going to make it worth my while. Get that ass in the air, lets’s see if Mendoza can’t be good for something.”

Bricks’ next moan is much more resonant. Mendoza echoes her as he bends over her back, no doubt pressing his cock against her barely there panties.

“Ask for a spanking,” Kate commands, lighting a cigarette. “Ask nice, the way I like.”

“Please spank me, daddy,” Bricks moans, holding eye contact with the mirror, staring directly at Kate.

“Good girl, there you go,” Kate purrs, over Mendoza’s tiresome noises. “Too bad he’s going to be such a shit lay. You’re right, your best is wasted on him. Say thank you.”

Bricks hisses after Mendoza gives her three quick, sloppy strikes. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Fuck, you’re a slut, huh?” Mendoza flips her, and Kate laughs to see the mirrored tiles on the ceiling. “I can be your daddy, baby girl.”

“I’m tired of hearing his voice,” Kate scoffs. “Put his mouth to use.”

Bricks opts to grab a fistful of his hair and drag the man down her body. Kate gets to enjoy the view of her, chest heaving and disheveled as she winks up at her reflection. There’s no rolling eyes - there’s nothing of interest in the room, really, and Mendoza is apparently all noise and no skill.

“Touch yourself,” Kate commands. “Give yourself a show, beautiful.”

Bricks draws the fingers of her free hand down her neck, toying with her necklace before pushing the fabric of her dress down beneath full breasts. Kate makes an appreciative noise when she pinches a nipple. The woman in the mirror moans and arches her hips into the mouth between her thighs. Her eyes go half-lidded, when Mendoza pulls away to pant against her, one hand working its way up to prod at her. He groans something about “wet” and “tight,” like he had anything to do with the first and doesn’t understand the implications of the second.

“Please,” Bricks moans at her reflection.

“Oh,” Kate chuckles, “Is he really that good?”

“Roll over,” Mendoza growls as he stands. He’s dropped his pants and underwear.

“No,” Kate snorts. “I’m not watching your bored face as you compare him to Ghost. Ride him.”

All it takes is one skilled twist of Bricks’ hips before Mendoza is lying on his back, groaning under the woman Kate could command to kill him at any moment.

But Kate simply sits back in her chair. “Finish him off before I finish this cigarette, and I’ll let you come.”

Bricks narrows her eyes at the mirror. Kate can almost hear her calculating how long it’s been since she heard the click of the lighter. And then she balances on the balls of her feet and Kate grins as she watches the woman tear Mendoza’s orgasm from him with brutal efficiency.

“Good girl.”

[zvdvdlvr]

three strikes ✩ marauders

🥃 — synopsis. Don’t fuck with a Hufflepuff.

🥃 — warnings. Foul language. Ooc. Peter is a cutey.

🥃 — author’s note. Yet again: I nessed around with the timeline and wrote this on a whim. Enjoy!

“Someone was up late!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your friend James’s shoulders.

The curly-haired menace shrugged you off of him and shoveled food onto his plate. Remus sat down beside you. “The wanker was up copying essays because he always waits to do ‘em until the day before they’re due,” he explained humorously. “And you wonder why the professors give us weeks to write these things.”

You chuckled and elbowed James in the side. “Spoiled baby boy just isn’t used to work,” you joked.

“Cutesy little Hufflepuff needs to shut up,” James muttered before picking up his juice-filled goblet and downing the whole thing.

As the only Hufflepuff accepted by the infamous Marauders, you definitely got your fair share of teasing from your fellow classmates. You were known as the ‘funny friend’ that had thick skin and an opinion on everything. There were times being known as the joker of the group was the best! You were the happily-dispositioned Puff that people came to for advice, jokes, or just someone to review notes with. And then there were the days where your opinion and feelings were completely overlooked- seen as just the clown.

You had gotten used to the days were you regretted being so extroverted and joking. Your skin was thick and you don’t remember the last time you let someone see you without your easygoing smile. 

But now that seventh year was drawing to a close and that everyone was ‘growing up’, it seemed like no one had any more patience. And since you always tried to help- though you sometimes went about it in the wrong way- you were often the person that got snapped at. To be honest, being the person at the short end of the stick when you had been nothing but a shoulder to cry on (not exactly literally) was tiring you out. You didn’t know how much you could put up with: especially if you had to deal with your friends’ anger.

“Funny,” you chuckled. You smoothly picked at the food on your plate and finished up what you were eating.

Sirius slid down across the lot of you, brushing his hair out of his face. “What’s funny?”

Remus answered with a “your mum’s face” that made James lighten up a little bit.

You snorted a laugh, knowing how strikingly attractive Sirius’s mother was. James’s comment was forgotten and you went about your day.

🥃.

The second strike was when Sirius got upset at your for making a lighthearted joke about his living arrangement at James’s house.

Now, to be fair, the infamous and noble house of Black was a bloody fucking mess. Incest ran in the family, the Unforgivables were a common occurrence, and the drama that surrounded that damn family was a laughingstock of it’s own.

The scene is set like this:

Sirius and James were discussing plans for the ‘escape’ that Sirius was planning. James’s Godsends of parents were quite common with all of you and were familiar with Sirius’s home-life. They had opened their home to Sirius and the rest of the Marauders should any of you need it.

On your left, Peter was absently fiddling with his wand. To your right Remus was munching on a chocolate bar. The full moon was coming up and Remus was already feeling the effects of his condition. Sirius and James were talking animatedly in front of you, discussing details.

“-I’m really glad your mum said yes,” Sirius rambled. “Fuck, I’d marry her if I could. She’s the best. Her cooking’s better the house elf’s and she’s a whole lot prettier than my mother.”

James gagged. “Don’t talk about my mum like that, Merlin. Disgusting,” he shuddered.

Sirius guffawed.

“It’ll be a big ass sleepover,” you jumped in, picking a hangnail. “Shit, we’ll all be over every weekend, Jamie. We’ll just be one big old happy family.”

Peter and Remus found your mindless babbling amusing, but for some reason Sirius did not.

“It’s not just a ‘big ass sleepover’,” Sirius told you. “It’s gonna be my life. Because, you know, I’m an outcast in my own home. Oh, and the constant torture whenever Mummy and Daddy think I have an attitude.”

You looked up, confused. “Fuckin’ hell, Sirius, I just said it would be fun-“

“It would be fun if you shut your fucking mouth for once.”

Sirius’s words made you stop in your tracks. “Rich coming from you, Mr. ‘Listen-To-My-Stories-Of-All-These-Girls-I-Fucked-Last-Night’,” you shot back. You tried to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Shut up, y/n! For once! Merlin’s balls,” Sirius yelled, throwing his hands up and striding away.

You watched him walk away, James jogging to catch up. Peter and Remus’s eyes jumped from you to Sirius’s retreating form. With a barely withheld sigh, you lifted the corners of your lips and shrugged. “He’ll cool off. He normally does… I’m gonna head to your common room. I’ll see you two later.”

“See you, y/n,” Peter replied. As you turned and headed to your friends’ common room, you blinked as fast as you walked.

🥃.

The third and final strike was that very same day. A few hours later, Peter and Remus returned to their common room to retrieve you for dinner. Your yellow robes were bright: illuminated by the fire as you curled into yourself and slept.

Remus gently woke you up. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted coyly. “Dinner time.”

You needed and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Oh, shoot. I left my books in your room-“

“I’ll go get it,” Remus nodded. “I’m going to go get some more chocolate.”

Peter plopped down beside you. “Sirius is sorry,” he began. “I know he doesn’t look like it, but he is.”

You just leaned closer to your blond friend. “I’d like to hear it from him… But thank you, Pete.”

In response Peter hummed and rested his head on yours. His eyes watch the flickering orange flames dance in the fireplace as the both of you waited for Remus.

“Y/n.”

You turned towards the staircase and saw Remus standing with your reading materials in his hands. “Thanks, Moons. I apprecia-“

“So.”

You stiffened at Remus’s tone. You’d heart it before: cold, cruel, infuriated. “What’s wrong, Moony?”

Remus laughed darkly. “You eat the only food that keeps me sane before the full moon, send me up to get your books like a mutt, and then play innocent?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Remus turned to Peter. “The wanker ate all my fuckin’ chocolate! The whole fucking bucket I bought last week!”

You gape at Remus. “Yeah, Remus. I ate the whole fucking thing- I didn’t do it! I didn’t even know where your precious chocolate was! Besides, you know I prefer vanilla.” You scoffed at your last sentence. 

“Well who else would have eaten it!? Huh?”

Remus threw your books to the table. “How does it feel to have your stuff destroyed, huh?”

You wantes to scoff. It’s just bloody chocolate, for Merlin’s sakes! But you knew Remus got volatile before the full moon. You took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Leave my shit alone, Remus.”

“Fuck you, y/n! You and your pathetic Hufflepuff house! You lie just as good as a snake,” Remus sneered in your face. 

“Listen hear, Remus John Lupin,” you said lowly, grasping Remus’s tie and bringing his face to your level. “I’d rather sell a fuck than give one. Especially about your fucking chocolate. I didn’t touch your damn stash. If I did, I’d admit it. Secondly, toss around my books like that and I’ll kick your furry little ass so hard you’re gonna wear my fucking shoes as a hat. Thirdly, don’t you ever- and I mean ever- compare me to one of those two-faced, green wearing, white-haired snakes! I’m tired of being yelled at, Remus, and I think you can understand that feeling. But by God, if I have to deal with another one of your stupid fucking comments, I will rock your shit. I have brothers and uncles. Don’t fucking make me have this conversation again. And you can tell the rest of the boys exactly what I said because I’ll beat their egotistical asses too.”

You released Remus’s tie and stood up a little taller, ignoring his wide eyes and open mouth. You collected your books and smiled warmly at Peter who hadn’t said a word. “Bye Pete!”

“B-Bye, y/n,” he stuttered, waving.

[leoruby-draws]

Kid Villains, pt 2.

Decided to post more kiddy villains, bit of a sequel to this. First up is Kitten, Mothman's bratty daughter from the 2003 teen titan cartoon:

Modeled her costume after the Rosy Maple Moth, while there are species of moths with the name kitten on them I figured she would prefer a pink outfit.

Thought it'd be kinda cool for her to be a villain for the batkids, she's already evil so why not. I don't imagine her to be all that talented at the job tho she would still be very dangerous if you underestimate her. I think she would work particularly well against Steph, being that Mothman started as a villain for Barbara (Cass might be too high level for her tbh).

Here's some more doodles:

Here's my Scarecrow's sidekick oc, I should probably name her something like Rag Doll or Raggedy Scream maybe? The three boys are oc's modeled after the Terrible Trio, criminals who commit crimes wearing animal masks. Their identities change a lot over continuities, so these kids are probably aspiring to be the next incarnation of this group.

Here's another random oc, a sidekick for White Rabbit (Jaina Hudson). Thought it'd be funny if it was just a kid in a silly rabbit suit, like what the kid wore in that movie, A Christmas Story. I'm not sure on what his personality should be. Maybe someone genuinely nice, a cheerful, polite boy who likes to hand people bombs (unintentionally dangerous) or maybe someone pretending to be nice but is actually malicious. Whatever's funnier I suppose.

Here's some characters inspired by the Super Friends enemies, the Super Foes. You'd see some of them return for the Robins 2021 mini, except for Toy Boy. Giggles and Guffaw are newer, only appearing in the mini.

I messed with their designs a bit to make them more unique looking. Honeysuckle for example was shown with either red or brown hair but I gave her a sorta dark maroon, thought it contrasted well with her green outfit. Honeysuckle btw, is older than the rest, and is more of an enemy to Dick and Barbara, tho her teenage self has no problem attacking the younger sibs.

Also Giggles and Guffaw might look a little similar to a certain anime starring a group of sextuplets, just being a little funny there. I gave these kids some made up names, mostly taken from whatever writer created them. Couple of them worked out pretty well actually, like Bridwell (well, spring, stream) and Estrada (Road).

This next one is a character from the 2004 cartoon The Batman, which I never actually watched but I did see commercials of. His name is Prank ( Donnie ?), a protege of the Joker. He wasn't evil enough to stick it out, but I gotta say I just loved his costume (esp how the jacket resembles Robins coat a bit). Made up a last name for him, just a random one from searching up famous clowns.

Being Barbara's peer, he's also more of a antagonist for the older kids, decided he and Honeysuckle should friends. I kinda want to use them as a sorta contrast to Babs and Dick, that could be fun to do. Also look at baby Dick, I don't draw him enough at this age.

Speaking of Barbara, I've been going back and forth between having her start out as either 12 or 16. All the other kids start out really young, so it makes sense for Babs to do so as well. But I kinda like the thought of her starting out much older, makes her more unique among the batkids (in pre-crisis she became Batgirl in like her 20s btw, cool huh?)

More various rivals for the kids to fight, excluding my oc Pink Rabbit, all of them more antagonists for the kids themselves rather sidekicks of the villains that Batman fights.

Here's Jason and Steph torturing poor little Enigma, who would be considered the bad guy here?

Here's some more proteges, Holly probably exists in this world, she's a bit too old for all this nonsense tho. Kitten is also a Super Foes member and was in Robins 2021 as well, she's been shown to be a sidekick to the Cheetah and Catwoman. Maybe she's just likes to attach herself to any cat-themed villain.

Crazy Quilt is more of an enemy to Robin than Batman, plus he has his own legacy in Crazy Quilt II, so obviously I had to include them. I wonder what name should I give the younger one, Duvet? Silly Blankie? idk

Lastly here's Earth 3(?) Jason Todd as Talon II paying a visit to the Training Wheels universe, seems like hes a bit of a crybaby. I don't think we've seen a earth 3 variant of Jason, so I'm just making up my own version of him. Wonder why he seems so nervous...

Anyways!! That was a lot, hope you liked all that!

[drcomttheo]

Theo Nott x YN

summary: Theo can cook?

warnings: fluff, established relationship

words: 382

a/n: SORRY ITS SHORT!

Excerpt from my fic "Inordinate love" or find it on my ML that's pinned.

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙛

You were lying in bed with the covers tangling around your bodies.

He was stroking your hair and you were drawing imaginary shapes on his chest until you felt him shift. "Are you hungry, Y/L/N?"

You didn't feel hungry before he asked, you guess because you were only focused on him, but now that you were thinking about it, you were a bit hungry.

"I could eat something," you nodded in response.

He smiled, but just a bit as he got up. "Well, come on, I'll cook you the best meal ever."

He cooks?

Surely not.

He has house elves. You doubt he's ever stepped foot in a kitchen, let alone his own and it's far less likely he cooked in it!

"Theodore Nott, the chef..." You were saying this as you were dangling your feet from the counter.

"You didn't know about that?" He said as he was close to you now.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/L/N. Now, what would you like to eat? Toast?" He said it with a laugh. "That's really about all I can make."

You knew it.

"A chef who can only make toast?" You said, questioning him for a moment.

"What can I say? I stick to the finer things in life." He answered.

"Well, then it better be some damn good toast," you say.

"Oh, just wait, Miss/Mister Y/L/N. Best toast you've seen in all your years." He was saying this as he was putting the toast into a toaster, which was making you laugh a bit seeing him struggle with the "muggle" technology.

"Are you laughing at me?" He said as he turned around with a slight look of defeat.

"No," you said, following it with a small giggle. He gave you a pointed look.

"Fine, but it's just a little funny." You were trying to hold back a grin, but you failed.

"Theo! You are burning the toast," you said as you hopped down from the counter and went over to the toaster, pulling out a charcoaled piece of bread.

"I'm not going to eat that," you said, laughing.

"Okay, maybe you should just have Muffy cook us breakfast," he said, laughing before embracing you in a tight hug.

[mikalame]

Heyyy i loved “fixing up” can u pleaseee write some hcs of little tom and bill x reader😘🙏 (PLUS YOUR PROFILE IS SO CUTE I LOVE THE PINK)

-Kat💗

Just some cute lil head canons of being besties with the kaulitz gald you like the pick kat 😝

Taglist: @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley @saumspam

After band practice you 3 would go to there house and play with their dads cards and play snap and go fish while eating snacks or talking about the being famous.

Playing around with the kaulitz mums makeup and bill copying what you do and doing it on himself but yk messy cuz yall are 8.

Helping tom with his dreads up keep or just raking your nails through his dreads aswell as bill or brushing out the hair spray in bills hair after a concert.

After bill went to star church and he only comes 2nd you comfort him by you and tom doing silly things like falling over or making funny faces and only stopping when bill cant breath cause hes laughing to hard

When its yours or theirs birthday you always do a cake smash where you 3 just make a total mess of the dining table and just trash it.

When your having a sleepover you 3 go to the park with like a cig each and smoke it while hiding in one of those plastic tubes that you hide in and when ever you heard something you would snuff it out and peek out of the holes in the tube.

When tom had told both of you he had lost his virginity you and bill made a cake with like a lil card and candles with icing congratulating him about it

When you got your first boyfriend and they saw you and that person holding hands then doing a cute lil peck on the lips they would scrub your hand till RED same with your face it would look like you had red lipstick smudge

If you were neighbours with them you 3 would have friday nights bbqs your parents would still and drink while you 3 would be running out of each house causing a muck and would end up sleeping on the trampoline

Your parents would also do like a carpool rotation so they would take turns taking you 3 into school and out of it

In school you and bill would hide under the bleachers during lunch and would gossip about what was happening in school or just people you didn't like

You three doing dress up and being all cute and stuff like tom being dressed as a dragon, you as a knight and bill as a lil princess being stuck in the tree house and tom pretending to kill him while you come in a save him

You sneaking over climbing through their window with your parents wine but spitting it out on the ground cause of the taste and putting it back like nothing happened

If you guys went on school exhibitions you would always try and be together and try and complete they scavenger hunts before the other groups you would always be super competitive

You three would do drawing comps and get your parents to judge but because they don't wanna be rude they say you 3 tied but being competitive little 9 year olds you start yelling at them to pick a winner and that you wont be sad if one of the other win (bill cry's when he don't win then tom calls him a sore loser (only when he wins tho)

Being the only girl you have some ups and downs they might be a little bit softer on you but not a lot you would also get teased a lot if it was windy and your hair was getting messed up.

Trying to bake and you 3 just end up throwing flour at each other and you and tom ending up on the floor brawling over who was going to mix but bill just ends up doing rolling his eyes.

At carnivals you 3 would get matching stick on tattoos like tom would get a lion bill would get a tiger and you would get a leopard all on your arm like a sleeve and would look in the mirror flexing and posing.

Every now and again you get beg tom enough to put makeup over him give him a make up tom usually ruins it by drawing a fake mustach on himself with eyeliner when you and bill rent looking

Hope you like Kat 😘

[helplesspuppet-bsd]

A Sound So Appealing 

 

Warnings: out of character Jouno? Moentions of blood and death

Jouno x Fem!Reader 

 

Word count: 1,911

After Jouno lost his ability to see his senses heighted as a way for him to thrive without seeing, this included his hearing. Therefore, he found being in large crowd difficult for him because of the noise, he had to hold a brave face when arresting Dazai in the stadium.  

It didn’t shock anyone that he liked quiet rooms and appealing noises and feelings.  

Such as, the soft chime of a bell, or the feeling of a feather.  

Jouno was walking through the city, finding the chatter among the crowded street irritating. He simply had to get a few things and get back to the Hunting Dogs HQ. He wasn’t in uniform as he didn’t want to draw any attention.  

It was so loud he didn’t even notice you bump into him “Oh... Sorry...” You said in a voice so gentle it was like all other sound around him became mute to Jouno.  

It hadn’t been that quiet for him since he lost his sight. He had to hear your voice again. He dropped everything he was doing, he had to hear that voice again, he followed you by following the sound of your footsteps until he was close enough to reach for your shoulder.  

“Excuse me.” Jouno said, grabbing your attention, he felt his heart skip a beat, ‘Even the clothes they wear is soft.’ Jouno thought as his hand rested on your shoulder.  

“Did you... Need something?” You asked, it was like a bell chimed sweetly in his ears he faced for a few moments before snapping back to reality “Yes. I was hoping you could guide me to the nearest supermarket. As a simple apology for bumping into me earlier.” Jouno said sweetly as he tilted his head.  

‘Is he serious? I guess it’s fair as he is blind.’ You thought, trying to reason with the situation you now found yourself in as you sighed. “Okay then...” You said as you walked in a different direction to where you were walking before.  

You walked a small bit in front of Jouno but he quickly caught up and wrapped his arm around yours “You do not mind right?” Jouno asked with his signature smile. You looked at him for a second “Hey, if you’re blind, shouldn’t you have a stick, or a dog?” You asked out of pure curiosity as you bent your arm so it’s more secure for him.  

“I can usually figure where I’m going with my other senses. It’s just harder for me today, and it’s my turn to get lunch for my colleges.” Jouno answered, he was used to questions, and he would be happy to answer them if it wasn’t out of malice.  

“Oh...” You muttered as you walked arm in arm with him, not knowing that Jouno could easily find his way through this street despite the crowd, he just wanted an excuse to hear that beautiful voice of yours. The click of your heel, it was just satisfying for him.  

“Tell me, what is your name?” Jouno asked as he followed your movements. “It’s Y/n.” You responded as you paid attention to the path in front of you. It was silent for a while and before you knew it, you were already at the supermarket.  

“Well, here we are.” You said as you let go of his arm, you just now noticed that Jouno was smiling the entire journey.  

“You want to know something funny? Even though I cannot see, I can still tell you are a beautiful person from how you act.” Jouno said as he walked into the store waving you goodbye, leaving you as a blushing mess at his complement, something rare for Jouno to complement anyone, and he held a proud smile.  

◇◇◇  

A few days had gone by, and you stayed in that same spot, hoping to see Jouno again, you had memorized his face, his white hair with the red tips at the end of his hair, you had even memorized his voice. Never in your life did you think you’d be so obsessed about seeing someone again.  

You closed your eyes and sighed considering giving up on seeing him again. You turned around and walked back to your house. Unaware that Jouno was with you, he was using his ability to not make himself visible to you. He was in his uniform, he followed you, he didn’t know why he did, but something in his mind told him to do it.  

He had a meeting to go to, but he felt like something terrible would happen to you if he left you. His gut instinct had aways been correct, he wouldn’t ignore if the woman he had undeniably fallen in love over the past few weeks be harmed.  

He stopped turned back to normal facing your direction as he heard Tetchou’s voice through the radio in his ear. “Jouno, we’ve found people a group of violent criminals in the area you’re in. Be on guard.” Jouno felt his heart drop, he knew that you were in that crowd. Jouno didn’t reply to Tetchou, he only disconnected the radio as a lot was going through his head. 

He kept his guard up desperately hoping the rest of the hunting dogs would appear shortly, they were always quick at coming to situations like this. 

He walked around the street, being on high alert, focusing on the everyone in the crowd, desperately trying to figure out the good from the bad. Not just for the innocent people, but also for you. 

Your safety meant so much to him, more than what he’d like to admit, he knew we shouldn’t have gone with it when he first met you, but he couldn’t help himself, now he was in love with you, and scared, he began to think about how many weeks you had waited for him, wanting to see him again, starting to regret not coming up to you once. 

It didn’t take much longer for the other hunting dogs to appear running past Jouno, trying to hunt down the criminals. It was no use anyway, as jouno heard ticking. “A bomb....” He whispered in fear, his usual composure was crumbling “EVERYONE GET DOWN!” He yelled as loud as his voice could let him before an explosion happened, gunfire followed shortly behind. 

The majority were saved by the end of it, but a lot still lost their lives. The media got on the scene shortly afterwards, some being disappointed in the hunting dogs for not saving more, others wanting to interview the hunting dogs, however, they brushed them off. Moving through the survivors and the unfortunate victims, looking for you, hoping to hear your heartbeat. 

He hoped you weren’t one of the casualties. His rapidly beating heart calmed when he finally heard yours. He followed it, wanting to know if you were alright. 

He found you sitting on the ground, with your back against some of the debris from the prior explosion, and your eyes widened when you saw him, “Y/n...” He whispered as he got closer, “Are you alright.” He asked with concern laced all over his voice, he felt pain within you. “Uh... Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You tried to sit up more but failed, wincing in pain. 

“Don’t lie to me. I hate liars.” Jouno said as he looked at you, he was worried, it was uncharacteristic of him. “How bad is it?” Jouno then asked as he sat on his knees “Compared to the others I’ve seen, it’s pretty tame, hurts to move though.” You replied, with a small smile “Who knew the man I bumped into a few weeks ago was a member of the hunting dogs.” You said with a weak laugh, trying to bring light to this grim situation. 

Jouno let out a small chuckle before he picked you up, one arm under your knees, the other on your back “Come on, let’s get you to an ambulance.” Jouno said as he began walking, it was strangely silent for him “I’m sorry for not talking to you since that day, I know you were waiting for me.” Jouno said as he held onto you tighter “I ... I wish I did now.” Jouno continued, he continued walking toward the nearest free ambulance. 

“It’s fine, although I’m disappointed you weren’t there.” You said as he turned to face you “But I was... I used my ability to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were safe. You can’t imagine how scared I was found out about the planned attack from my co-worker.” Jouno replied as he pulled you closer, getting to an ambulance, the few doctors that were there rushed to him. With slight reluctance he handed you over. 

“We will find out why they did this. I’ll pay for all your treatments, Y/n.” Jouno promised in a whisper before he smiled, and kissing your forehead, which surprised you, and the doctors, before he turned around and whispered “I love you...” It was barely audible for you, but he heard your heartbeat quicken and smiled at it. As he went off to help the other survivors of the attack, now that the most important one to him was safe and getting treatment. 

◇◇◇ 

A month or two had gone by, and you were recovering from the surgery you had because of your injury. Jouno took it upon himself to visit you when he could. He knew how to make you laugh; he knew how to fluster you as well. In a way, it caused you to fall for him, possibly falling harder than he did. 

He was with you currently, in his casual clothes, placing your hand on his cheek. Apart from the occasional beep from the various hospital equipment, it was quiet for the both of you, no one made a sound. 

 “Have I ever told you how much I love your heartbeat?” Jouno asked, breaking the peaceful silence between you two, you let out a light chuckle “You can hear it?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. “Of course. Ever since I lost my sight, my remaining four senses heightened. Your voice, your touch... Every sound you make. It’s all so beautiful to me. I could sit and listen to it all day.” Jouno confessed as he kissed the inside of your palm. He chucked as he heard your heartbeat pick up speed again “I also love to hear your heartbeat speed up, it only confirms that you love me back, I don’t need you to say it to know it.” Jouno said shortly after. 

You only looked at Jouno in adoration, not knowing how you managed to get him to love you, you were pleasantly surprised he wasn’t as sadistic as what you heard, he loved you too much to hurt you in any way, unless you were okay with it. He wouldn’t mind if you had some secret dark kink like that. 

For now, he will remain as gentle as possible, holding your hand and face as if they were made of glass in movement he made. Both of you could imagine a life with each other, as he took your face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. 

A life with Jouno is something you now wanted. As you closed your eyes and returned his kiss. 

[pagegirlintraining]

If you are still feeling like doing the 5 sentences, may I request Wilmon with "It's a little bit funny"

Just for reasons.

First of all, thank you for this awesome prompt, I got so excited because I love this song so much😍 (I mean who doesn’t but anyway). I really hope you’ll like what I turned it into, even if it took me ages to get around to it 🙈

“It’s a little bit funny”, Simon states upon pulling back from their kiss.

“What?” Wille wiggles his eyebrows at the boy in his arms, feeling a rush of giddiness as he watches Simon’s face move into fond exasperation when he adds, “This feeling inside?”

“Shut up,” Simon tells him, and judging from his tone, he’s trying hard to contain a giggle. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“So this isn’t you writing another song about me?” Wille asks, sticking out his lower lip in a pronounced pout. “And I thought you loved me.”

There’s a playful shove to his chest from one of Simon’s hands, the other still remaining in its resting spot at the crook of Wille’s neck, pointer and middle finger playing with one of the short strands of hair behind his ear.

“I’m trying to tell you something here”, Simon protests, though this time the giggle does break through into his voice. “But maybe now I don’t want to anymore.”

“No, please tell me. I’ll shut up,” Wille hurries to say, quickly miming locking his mouth with an invisible key, which pulls another one of those fond little giggles out of Simon that are never not gonna make Wille’s entire chest light up.

“I was gonna say,” Simon concedes, drawing out the last syllable, “that it’s kinda funny how if we ever get married, there won’t even be any discussion of who takes whose last name. Because I’m literally the only one of us to even have a last name.”

And maybe, just maybe, Simon talking about marriage like it’s a thing that’s totally in the cards for them is even better than a new song.

Send me ‘Wilmon’ and a sentence and I’ll give you some more (eventually).