#grace-upon-earth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzyiii · 7 months ago

Note

Hii, are requests open??

Yes, it definitely is!!!

The Dragon's Treasure

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 6.7k words

summary | when you were but four years old, your mother had declared jacaerys as her heir, despite the fact that you were born first. in truth, it was a measure born of love; she knew you, with your striking silver locks and lilac eyes—her sweet daughter—would be safe, whilst her sons would not.

tags | FLUFF, FLUFF, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes (that's all), very very soft aemond, and after fluff comes ANGST, ANGST and more ANGST, also reader is a sensitive queen.

a/n | wrote this in 2 days 💪, and there will DEFINITELY be a PART 2

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 3

Duty and shame. These were the threads from which you were woven—not love, nor passion, but the heavy fabric of obligation and regret.

The firstborn of Rhaenyra Targaryen came into the world not as a son with dark hair and brown eyes, but as a daughter, blessed with ethereal lilac eyes that mirrored her mother's lineage and the shining silver curls that heralded her Velaryon heritage.

Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen had fulfilled their solemn duty to conceive an heir. For Rhaenyra, each night was steeped in a prayerful longing to erase the memory of her wedding night—a night marked by discomfort and tears. The truth was evident to all: Laenor's heart was not inclined towards her nor any woman; his desires lay with men. Yet, their obligation demanded they play their parts.

After their hurried nuptials in a clandestine ceremony, they found themselves confined within a chamber, the weight of expectation pressing down upon them. When the act was done, the silence that enveloped them was shattered by Laenor's grief; he collapsed into Rhaenyra’s arms, his body wracked with sobs as he mourned the loss of his beloved, wishing loudly that he could be “normal.” It was in that moment, as she held him close, that the young princess, overwhelmed by the weight of her fate, found herself wishing she could shed her identity, to become someone else entirely.

But when Rhaenyra beheld her daughter for the first time, it was as if the world shifted. A spark of profound love ignited in her heart, banishing the shame that had once gnawed at her spirit during her pregnancy and the painful hours of labor. There had been moments when she had cursed the very life growing within her, moments steeped in bitterness toward the infant she carried. Yet now, cradling her sweet babe—her precious dragon treasure—Rhaenyra understood that she would willingly endure a thousand painful pregnancies for this singular joy.

What a delight you were, a soothing balm for Rhaenyra amidst the swirling intrigues of King’s Landing. It was your voice that first captivated her heart, from the moment your tiny lips could form sounds, you babbled with delight, engaging your mother in joyous conversations, even though she could scarcely grasp what you were saying. Your smiles were a sunbeam that brightened her darkest days; the first time you graced her with a radiant smile, it became a memory she would hold dear until the end of her days.

But as the tides of fate turned, life grew more intricate. Once Rhaenyra and Laenor fulfilled the sacred duty of securing an heir, they were free to pursue their pleasures separately, allowing Rhaenyra to take Harwin Strong into her bed. To Rhaenyra, her time with Harwin had never felt like a mistake, nor the first child they conceived together —Jacaerys Velaryon.

Yet, his hair—dark as the raven's wing— and eyes — brown as the earth—set him apart from Rhaenyra’s lineage, with none of her ethereal silver locks or striking violet eyes. Instead, he bore the unmistakable mark of his mother’s sworn protector, a truth whispered in the shadows of the Red Keep, even as Laenor publicly embraced him as his true son and the rightful heir of Driftmark.

Alas, Rhaenyra found herself repeating the same error. Another son came forth from her union with Harwin—a second boy with hair as dark as night and eyes of rich brown. Lucerys Velaryon. Whispers began to flutter through the court, dark murmurs and scornful jibes accusing her children of being bastards. It was the painful truth, yet Rhaenyra, fiercely protective as any mother, longed for her sons to live free from the burdens of her choices.

And so, Rhaenyra was faced with the most harrowing decision of her life, a choice that would weigh upon her heart for years to come. When you were but four years old, she declared Jacaerys as her heir, despite the fact that you were born first, and had Laenor declare Lucerys the heir of Driftmark. In truth, it was a measure born of love; she knew you, with your striking silver locks and lilac eyes—her sweet daughter—would be safe, while Jace and Luke would forever need her protection in a world that could be mercilessly unforgiving.

In the quiet confines of the Red Keep, a yawning silence enveloped the lesson, a silence only broken by the steady, droning voice of Septa Agertha. As a ten-year-old princess, you found your patience with such tedium wearing thin, particularly in the tedious recitation of the Faith of the Seven—each doctrine blurring into the next, sapping your spirit with every word.

Beside you, your beloved aunt Helaena sat in her own world, her delicate hands guiding the needle in and out of the fabric, her gaze distant as though the colors and threads offered more solace than the dull teachings of the Sept. You could see it in her eyes; the spark of interest had flickered away, leaving a solemn stillness where interest once danced.

Embroidery, you thought, was a most tiresome endeavor—how many times had you pricked your own fingers accidentally? It seemed the needle was always too eager, as if it shared your disdain for the task at hand. Your heart longed for the vibrant strokes of paint on canvas, the joyful freedom of creation, but Septa Agertha had sternly deemed such messiness unfit for a princess of House Targaryen.

"Focus, my princess," Septa Agertha’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts, pulling you back from your reverie. In that moment, you wished for nothing more than a dragon's flight, high above the clouds, far from the confines of the castle and the constraints of your title.

You glanced at your Septa, your expression hesitant as you mustered the courage to speak. “Septa Agertha,” you began, your tone dipped in respect, “mayhaps I might be excused to inquire if my mother has finished her labor?”

The Septa regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness; her demeanor softened as you widened your eyes and pouted just enough to tug at her heartstrings. “Very well, my princess,” she relented with a heavy sigh, “our lesson shall conclude for today.”

A joyful smile bloomed on your face, and you offered a swift, sincere thank you, excitement bubbling within you. Leaning over, you pressed a quick kiss on Helaena’s cheek—a fleeting farewell—before darting toward the door. Your sworn sword, Ser Rowan, steadfast and vigilant, attempted to match your youthful enthusiasm, but your spirit was unbridled and wild, leaving him struggling to keep up.

You raced breathlessly down the corridor, your heart racing with exhilaration, until you reached your mother’s solar. As you reached for the door’s latch, you hesitated, hearing the comforting jingle of Ser Rowan's armor behind you. With a bashful grin, you withdrew your hand, glancing back to find him nearing, his breath coming in measured puffs as he opened the door with a respectful bow.

But as you stepped into the warm chamber, your excitement began to wane. A sudden twinge gripped your young heart at the sight of nearly everyone gathered within your mother’s solar, unbidden thoughts swirling as to why you had not been summoned.

Yet those troubling questions were swiftly banished as you cast your gaze upon your mother, weary and glistening with the exertion of childbirth. Ignoring the soft coos of the newborn cradled in your father’s arms, you dashed toward Rhaenyra, laying your small hand against her damp cheek. “Mother, are you well?” you asked, concern threading through your words.

A tender smile softened Rhaenyra’s features at your worry, and she grasped your hand gently, kissing your palm in a soothing gesture. “I am better now that you are here,” she replied, her voice warm like the sun breaking through the clouds.

You turned at the sound of your brother Luke's voice, a warm smile stretched across his face. "We selected an egg for the babe, and for you as well, sister," he announced, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Ahh," your mother’s voice came softly from your side, laced with affection, "Those look perfect indeed."

"I let Luke choose," Jace declared with a hint of pride.

With a nod and a grin, Luke acknowledged his brother's words, "Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess," Ser Harwin Strong intoned, his hands clasped thoughtfully before him. "I deemed it fit to escort the lads."

Rhaenyra turned to him, her voice gentle, "Laenor and I thank you, Commander." Her gaze shifted slowly to you, warmth radiating from her eyes. "What do you think, my love?"

Your eyes were drawn to the two shimmering eggs nestled snugly in the hatching pot. You should have felt joy, perhaps excitement, yet a shadow of sadness draped over your young heart. "Why was I not included?"

An uneasy silence fell over the chamber, heavy and palpable. Ser Harwin broke it first, offering a sympathetic smile, “You were busy with your lessons, princess. We did not wish to disturb you.”

"But surely Jace and Luke were occupied with their dragon lessons as well," you replied in a soft voice, the undertone of hurt evident in your words.

Rhaenyra immediately noticed the glimmer of tears pooling in your lilac eyes and the tremble of your lips, as she rushed to uplift your spirits. "Look, my love, it is purple, your favorite color."

No sooner had Rhaenyra spoken than Laenor interjected enthusiastically, “I have a good feeling about this one, my darling. You know what they say—third time’s the charm.”

Third. This was to be your third dragon egg. The first, a vibrant orange, had turned to stone in your cradle, a cruel fate none could have foreseen. The second, a deep crimson egg, had been bestowed upon you with the birth of Luke, yet it too remained unhatched. As you gazed at the violet egg in the pot, hope eluded you, replaced instead by the grim certainty that this egg too would not awaken.

“Now I am certain you would like to meet your new brother,” Rhaenyra murmured, wrapping an affectionate arm around you.

“A boy?” you whispered, your eyes lifting to seek the babe cradled in your father’s arms.

“Yes, my love.”

“Oh.”

Rhaenyra could instantly see the disappointment which weighed heavy on your features at the prospect of yet another brother, and it became ever clearer in your silence. Rather than springing toward your father, you chose instead to nestle deeper into your mother’s embrace, seeking comfort in her warmth.

As you reclined against your mother’s side, you gazed at Ser Harwin, who now cradled your newborn brother, Joffrey. At merely ten summers, you could discern the affection in Ser Harwin's gaze as he looked at Joffrey—a tender look reminiscent of the affection he often bestowed upon your mother. It was a gaze filled with adoration, one he also offered to your other brothers, yet curiously, yet it never seemed to touch you. How curious this felt, a wonder mixed with a hint of sorrow.

When your father ushered your brothers from the chamber, it left a stillness that enveloped you, your mother, Ser Harwin, and the tiny new life nestled in his arms.

“Mayhaps you should return to your lessons now, my love,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft and melodic, turning her gentle gaze towards you.

A twinge of sorrow flared within you once again, and you glanced up at her, barely able to protest. “But—I just arrived,” you murmured, the longing in your tone betraying your desire to remain by her side.

Ser Harwin, ever the loyal knight, defended your mother, answering with a reassuring tone, “I am certain it is merely that your mother seeks rest, my princess.”

Reluctantly, you eased away from your mother’s embrace, turning slightly so she wouldn’t witness the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “I’ll go find Helaena,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

You heard her sigh, a sound laced with affection and understanding. Then, you felt her hand encircle your wrist, drawing you back to her warm side. She pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, her love wrapping around you like a cloak. “If you wish to keep me company whilst I rest, I shall never protest, my treasure.”

And so, you settled back against her, safe and cherished, while Ser Harwin gently rocked Joffrey to sleep. Your mother cast the same tender look upon him that Ser Harwin had, her eyes shimmering with a light of love—a look you noticed she had never bestowed upon your father. With this curious thought lingering in your mind, you surrendered to the soothing comfort of your mother's embrace, drifting gently into a blissful slumber for an impromptu nap.

“This one has rings...and two pairs of legs on each,” Helaena whispered, her voice a gentle hum as she held a slithering black insect close to her face, its glossy body glinting in the soft light.

“That makes two hundred and forty,” she concluded, her gaze fixed on the peculiar creature, while you regarded it with wide, curious eyes.

“Yes, indeed,” the Queen murmured thoughtfully from her perch beside Helaena.

You had awoken to find your mother still lost in slumber after drifting off beside her. With utmost care, you slipped away from her warm embrace, seeking out Helaena as you waited for the boys to finish their dragon lessons — and by boys, of course, you really meant Aemond.

“It has eyes...though...I don't believe it can see,” Helaena continued, bringing the strange creature nearer to you. Instinctively, you leaned back, wary of its closeness.

“And why is that so, do you think?" Queen Alicent inquired, her brow cocked in gentle curiosity.

Helaena merely shook her head, a mystique in her expression. “Some things lie beyond our understanding.”

“I suppose you are right,” Queen Alicent replied in a soft tone, a touch of wisdom in her words. “Some things simply are.”

"That sounds quite scary," you ventured, finally chiming in.

Both heads turned to your direction, and Helaena regarded you with a gentle curiosity. "Why do you say that?"

You offered a slight shrug, your finger gliding over the peculiar, scaly texture of the insect before you. "I suppose I’d feel so helpless, not being able to see anything. It would be a sad too, not to behold colors or shapes."

Queen Alicent regarded you with a softened gaze, her expression a mixture of contemplation and warmth. While her heart held a shadow of disdain for your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, and your brothers, who bore the stigma of bastardy, she recognized the innocence in you. A precious blend of Targaryen and Velaryon blood, you were a vision of purity akin to a delicate flower springing forth amidst thorns. It certainly didn't hurt that your sweetness was reminiscent of the ripest strawberry tart.

"Well, since it has never encountered colors or shapes, my dear princess, it has no reason to feel sad," she said softly.

Your brow furrowed, the Queen's words weaving through your mind like threads of a tapestry, before a radiant smile broke forth on your cherubic face in understanding.

The calm of the Queen's solar shattered abruptly as the heavy door swung open, revealing Aemond, forcibly ushered inside by a stern Kingsguard. All eyes, filled with concern, turned toward the commotion, “Your Grace.”

Alicent sprang to her feet, her voice laced with accusation. “Aemond. What have you done?”

You trailed closely behind the Queen, keeping a respectful distance as she unleashed her frustration upon Aemond, who stood there, cloaked in ash from head to toe. “After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?!"

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of your friend’s distressed expression. “They made me do it!" he pleaded, desperation lacing his tone.

"As if you needed encouragement," Queen Alicent rebuked him, her hands firm upon his shoulders. “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding."

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond’s voice rose, indignation spilling forth, and you flinched at the raw hurt echoing in his words.

Alicent paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. “A what?”

He turned his gaze away from his mother, the shame evident, but when his violet eyes fell upon you, they swiftly darted back, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. “They said it was a dragon… but it was a pig.”

The stern lines of the Queen’s face softened, and she spoke with conviction. “You will have a dragon one day. I know it."

“They all laughed at me,” Aemond murmured, his sorrow palpable in the air.

You yearned to bridge the distance and offer solace, for in that moment, you understood his pain more profoundly than anyone else in the room. Yet, you recognized that he needed his mother’s embrace more than your support. As Alicent enveloped Aemond in a tight hug, his violet gaze met yours once more, and all you could offer him was an understanding look, a silent promise that you would be there when he needed you.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting amber rays that danced across the ornate shelves of the Red Keep’s library, you found yourself seated beside your uncle, who had only just tidied himself after that unpleasant encounter. His eyes remained fixed on the pages of the book detailing Aegon's Conquest, but the tense silence between you weighed heavily in the air.

The heavy silence lingered, thickening the air around you. Restlessly, you glanced up at your uncle and whispered, "I am truly sorry."

He did not lift his gaze from the book, his tone icy as he replied, "Why do you say you’re sorry? You bear no blame in this."

Your heart ached for him, as you said softly, "I am sorry for what happened, for the pain it brought upon you. I will speak to my brothers about their behavior, I promise."

Aemond’s expression hardened, his lips pressing together in frustration. "I don't need you to save me, niece," he retorted, the sharpness of his words echoing in the quiet library.

Your heart sank, and you instinctively dropped your gaze. You could sense his turmoil; and you understood the pain and inferiority he was feeling. You had only wished to help, yet somehow, your kindness seemed to have been misread. You recognized when your presence was unwelcome, so with a small, resigned 'alright,' you began to rise from your seat, intending to leave him in peace.

Yet just as you turned, Aemond’s head snapped up, a wave of guilt crashing over him. He realized harshly that he had been unfair to you—his darling niece who was merely being her sweet, caring self. In a swift motion, he reached out for your hand, "Wait," his voice softer this time, “I did not mean to be cruel. I...I apologize.”

A warm smile crept across your face as you met his earnest eyes. “I accept your apology, uncle." You furrowed your brows playfully, a hint of mischief in your voice. "Come with me."

Before he could protest, your fingers intertwined, and you pulled him along with a gentle urgency. Aemond, caught off guard, found himself captivated by the warmth and softness of your hand in his. In the innocence of your youth, holding hands and being with each other everyday all day had felt natural, but with each passing day, as you both grew older, the simple act took on an air of unspoken indecency. Still, he let himself be led, wrapped in the comfort that his niece eagerly offered.

Aemond hesitated as you guided him into your chambers, pausing at the threshold, uncertainty written on his brow. However, any tension was quickly vanquished as you drew him inside. Your quarters brimmed with the elegance one might associate with a princess; the canopy bed was adorned with delicate pink linens and plump pillows, while vases scattered throughout the room overflowed with a lush assortment of pink and purple roses, their fragrance sweetening the air.

Yet, it was the object resting on the small table before the crackling fireplace that truly seized Aemond's attention. Nestled atop the table was a warming pot, housing a radiant violet dragon egg that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. "A dragon egg," he murmured, his fascination palpable.

You guided Aemond to kneel beside the table, where the two of you were drawn into the stillness of the moment. With a tender whisper, you began to recount the story behind the egg. "My brothers retrieved it when they sought an egg for my newest brother, Joffrey."

"Joffrey?" Aemond asked, a hint of skepticism lacing his tone as he met your gaze, "That name sounds far from Targaryen."

Your focus remained on the egg, brushing aside his remark. After a moment of contemplation, you finally shared the weight that had settled in your heart. "I fear it won't hatch."

Aemond's reaction was immediate; his head snapped towards you, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Do not speak such things."

"It is but my opinion, Aemond," you replied gently, undeterred by his sharpness. You understood that his frustration was not truly aimed at you; it never was.

“Why do you believe such a thing?” His voice softened, a hint of curiosity threading through his concern.

You averted your gaze, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “It is foolish,” you murmured, hesitant to reveal the depth of your fears.

“And so?” he pressed, his intensity unyielding.

Drawing a steadying breath, you finally revealed your heart. “In my mind, the egg shall only hatch if I do not care for it deeply.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed, understanding dawning. “So, you do care, then?”

“No, I do not!” you insisted too quickly, casting a furtive glance at the egg as if it had heard Aemond's words.

Frustration etched across Aemond’s features, he clenched his fists tightly. “It is unfair that your brothers possess dragons while we remain without, since they are—”

“What?” you interjected softly, concern lacing your tone. “They are what?”

Your earnest look tugged at the fragile threads of his heart. He couldn’t assume you were unaware of the whispers that painted your brothers in shadows, nor could he believe you were deaf to the harsh truths woven through courtly gossip. Yet, he would never voice those words to you. Instead, he muttered grudgingly, “Not as special as us.”

A small pout formed on your lips, drawing his attention away from the dragon egg that lay neglected between you. “You do understand that it was most likely Aegon who orchestrated that prank, yes?” you pressed, your voice laced with a gentle resolve.

Aemond scoffed and turned away, the weight of your words lingering in the air like an unwelcome specter. “Are you truly defending them?” he challenged, though he felt the shake of his conviction.

“No, Aemond,” you replied, your voice as sweet as summer rain, “What my brothers did was wrong. But more often than not, you never hold Aegon accountable, despite him being the leader of their little group.”

His back remained turned to you, pride keeping him rooted as he mulled over your words. Deep down, he recognized the truth in them, though he loathed to concede, for Aegon was his elder brother. He longed for the bond that appeared so effortless between you and your siblings, and it felt far more convenient to direct his ire toward them instead.

As Aemond continued to brood, you glided closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, your presence as warm as the sun’s rays. “If my egg should hatch, perhaps we could share the dragon?” you suggested brightly, seeking to lift his spirits.

He let out a disdainful scoff, turning to face you so closely that your noses nearly brushed. “Now, that is simply absurd.”

“Aemond,” you admonished softly, undeterred.

“Never has there been a dragon with two riders,” he rebutted gloomily, his voice laced with skepticism.

“So we would be the first,” you retorted, rising to your feet with animated gestures. “There must always be a first, for only then can things be normalized. Just wait and see, Aemond—one day, a Targaryen will claim more than one dragon!”

He regarded you with an unreadable expression and replied matter-of-factly, “That is entirely selfish, niece.”

You huffed in exasperation, settling back down beside him, your patience wearing thin. At moments like this, Aemond’s stubbornness made him seem dreadfully dull. “You fail to see the vision, uncle."

It was curious how swiftly the tides of life could turn. You had often confided in your mother about your aversion to change, and her response was always the same: "Change is inevitable, my love." You were not certain what that meant, but you understood now, as the world around you shifted in the blink of an eye. The sudden sadness that gripped your heart was puzzling, especially since you were so young. Just like that, you had been whisked away from the familiar streets of King’s Landing to the distant shores of Dragonstone, all because of your mother’s choices, which felt like a shadow beyond your grasp.

Dragonstone loomed before you, ominous and strange. You had never set foot on its rugged shores, but a sense of dread weighed heavy in your chest, telling you you would despise it here. The library would be smaller, you thought—if Dragonstone even had one at all—and the gardens could not possibly rival those sprawling ones in the Red Keep. Most troubling of all was the thought of being separated from Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena, your sweet aunt, sometimes it felt as though you could almost imagine her as your sister. Though her peculiar musings often escaped your understanding, it was her delightful oddities that you cherished most, setting her apart from all the other court ladies.

And Aemond—nothing in this vast world could rival the bond you shared with your uncle. You both understood one another in a way that few could fathom. The two dragonless Targaryens united by the same unspoken grief, felt the weight of their inferiority hanging over them like a storm cloud. Yet within that shared pain grew a deep-rooted connection. Aemond was your anchor in a world that often felt lonely and overwhelming. With him, you never felt truly isolated; you were never alone.

As the time arrived for your departure, Aemond attempted to mask his feelings with indifference, but you could see beyond his brave facade. The glimmer of tears in his violet eyes and the strength of his embrace told you everything: he would miss you just as fiercely as you would miss him.

Once again, the sea had darkened, mirroring the heaviness in your heart. The next time the two of you would gather would be under the shadow of sorrow. Your Aunt Laena had passed, and your family was bound for Driftmark to honor her memory. Despite having never met her, a sharp ache coursed through you, all the more intense for the grief etched across your father’s face. Laena had been his twin, after all. Then there was the loss of Ser Harwin Strong as well, which weighed heavily on your mother and brothers. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, your own heart felt strangely untouched by sadness.

The funeral had drawn to a close. Your mother gently encouraged you and Jace to offer words of comfort to your cousins, Baela and Rhaena. But Jace spoke without thinking, a clumsy remark about how you all should have been at Harrenhal instead of Driftmark. You felt a rush of frustration rising in your throat, longing to assert that his pain didn’t lessen the tragedy of the day. After all, he was only voicing his own hurt.

With a quiet huff, you had marched away in silence, finding your perch beside a jagged stone wall, where you could observe your father from a distance. He stood in the shallows of the ocean, the waves lapping at his knees, as if being closer to Laena might ease the sorrow that weighed upon his heart. It pained you to witness him so downcast; the truth was, you had always thought your father impervious to sadness, having never seen his face devoid of a smile before this moment.

“How fares Dragonstone?”

A smile began to bloom on your lips at the familiar sound of Aemond's voice, bringing warmth to your gloomy thoughts.

"It is cold and windy," you replied quietly, shifting your gaze toward him.

Aemond paused, taking in the sight of you. It had been merely weeks since you left the Red Keep, yet in your absence, the loneliness had curled around him like a thick fog. Seeing you now felt like sunlight piercing through gray clouds after a long storm. He regarded you for a moment longer before nodding subtly toward your brothers. "My condolences for Ser Harwin. I assume that is what had your brothers weeping."

“The bond between him and my brothers was indeed strong,” you admitted, a furrow forming in your brow as Aemond stifled a laugh with a cough. “I am sad he has passed, just as I mourn Aunt Laena. But the sorrows I feel mostly arise from witnessing the devastation their losses have cast upon my mother and father.”

Your lilac eyes shifted back toward your father, worry etched across your youthful features. You bit your lip, glancing at the water below. Surely it had turned icy, “I wish I could help him, to see him smile once more. But I’m not sure what to say.”

This was a curious moment for Aemond. Throughout his life, he had cherished you as his dearest friend, his beloved niece. Yet, recently, he began to view you in a new light—the way your silver curls captured the sunlight, glowing as if spun from starlight, or how every gown you wore magnified the beauty of your lilac eyes.

He licked his dry lips and spoke gently, “I reckon there’s little you could say that would ease his pain. Instead, find a way to show him you stand with him. That might be enough.”

You nodded thoughtfully at Aemond's words, your gaze drifting toward Rhaena and Baela. "I feel so awful," you confessed, your voice scarcely above a whisper. "I could never imagine losing my mother."

"Me neither," Aemond replied softly.

After a moment of silence, you added, "I think I would die from the heartbreak." You could sense Aemond’s eyes upon you, a question hanging unspoken in the air between you. A small sigh escaped your lips as you said, "It didn’t hatch, if that’s what you were thinking?"

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Aemond's head lower slightly. "Oh," he murmured, disappointment lacing his tone.

You lifted your chin, trying to display strength despite the disappointment gnawing at your heart. "I suspect I am not meant for a dragon," you asserted, forcing a brave smile.

"Don’t say that," Aemond insisted, his voice firm yet gentle.

Turning to face him, you allowed your hopelessness to seep through your facade. "Three times, Aemond. Three times my egg has failed to hatch."

"There are many unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone," Aemond suggested with a hint of resolve. "Perhaps you could try with them?"

"At the risk of my life?" you replied, arching an eyebrow at him. But then, your lips curled into a playful smile as you reached out to take Aemond's hand in yours. "But really, why would I seek a bond with a dragon when my bond with you is far more precious to me?"

Your words made Aemond’s cheeks flush a deep crimson, his heart thudding like the wings of a dragon. Though you seemed to find comfort in his friendship over the absence of a dragon, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of urgency. If a dragon was to be claimed, it would be up to him—the time had come, for both of your sakes.

He remembered that at this very moment, there was the legendary Vhagar, unclaimed and free, somewhere on the island, waiting for someone worthy to forge a bond with her. And he would do it in your honour.

You were jolted awake from your slumber, the sound of your name ringing insistently in your ears as someone gently shook your shoulders.

Opening your eyes with heavy lids, you frowned to see Jace’s eager face hovering over you, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“Jace, what is it?” you mumbled, pushing him away with tired reluctance as you struggled to sit up.

“Vhagar has been stolen! We must find out who did it!” he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with urgency as he tugged at you to rise from your bed.

“We?” you replied slowly, letting the word hang in the air. Your gaze drifted past him, landing on Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, who stood ready to storm out.

You groaned and collapsed back into your pillows, muffling your voice as you protested, “Can this not wait until the sun graces the sky?”

Once more, Jace insisted, pulling you upright, even as you felt something being slipped onto your feet. You turned your bleary gaze to see Luke kneeling beside you, fastening your boots with surprising urgency.

“No time for that! We needed a person of age to accompany us,” Jace declared, lifting you to your feet with determined hands.

You froze in place, fixing him with a look that was a blend of disbelief and exasperation. “Jace... I’m ten, and you’re nine.”

Yet your protest went unheard as Jace and Luke eagerly dragged you through the castle’s dim corridors, Baela and Rhaena leading the way with purpose. A terrible knot of dread twisted in your stomach, and you murmured under your breath, “Perhaps we could find a guard.”

“That would take far too long,” Rhaena replied sharply, her steps firm as the twins guided you deeper into the shadowy tunnels beneath the castle.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, and your mouth gaped open as you caught sight of Aemond standing before you, his hair tousled and a cocky smirk dancing on his lips.

“It’s him,” Baela exclaimed, realization dawning on her.

Aemond's smirk widened, and he drawled, “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon,” Rhaena said, her voice trembling with indignation.

“Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now,” Aemond shot back, his words sharp as a dagger. You flinched at the cruelty woven into his tone.

“You claimed Vhagar?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. Aemond’s gaze met yours, filled with an expectation of pride, but instead, he found only shock and hurt reflected in your eyes.

But before you could gather your thoughts, Rhaena’s voice pierced the air, filled with anger, “She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should’ve claimed her!” Aemond roared, his voice echoing through the tunnel. “Perhaps your cousins can find you a pig to ride. That would suit you better!”

Disgust twisted your features at Aemond’s taunts, yet your attention shifted as you saw Rhaena charging toward him. “Rhaena, wait!” you cried out, but it was too late.

In a heartbeat, Rhaena slammed into Aemond, pushing him with all her might. In response, he shoved her to the ground, and the chaos spiraled out of control. Everything happened so swiftly that you barely registered Baela darting past you until the sharp crack of her fist meeting Aemond’s cheek rang in your ears. He retaliated in an instant.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond roared, fury lighting up his features.

A gasp escaped your lips as you instinctively shouted, “Aemond!”

“She hit me first!” Aemond yelled back, his frustration spilling out around them like wildfire.

Just then, you felt a rush behind you as Jace charged forward, his own fury ignited. He struck Aemond squarely on the nose. In the blink of an eye, the fight erupted around you, with Jace, Luke, Rhaena, and Baela striking Aemond from every side.

It was only when you felt that surge of panic return to your mind and body that you tore yourself away from your stunned silence, sprinting toward the melee. “Stop it! All of you, stop!” you cried, your voice rising above the clamor.

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the thrashing continued. In the fray, Jace’s elbow inadvertently crashed into your face, sending you spiraling toward the stone wall. Your head thudded sharply against the rough surface, pain blooming as darkness threatened to close in.

Time seemed to slow, and suddenly, the fighting ceased. Jace’s wide eyes met yours, filled with shock. “I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, guilt clouding his features.

Through the ringing in your ears, you attempted to open your eyes, focusing on the concern etched on your brother's face. “I know you didn’t mean to, Jace,” you murmured, your voice a fragile whisper.

Yet the fury of the confrontation did not relent; the struggle surrounding Aemond grew more fierce, spurred on by your injury. As blood trickled down your forehead, thick and unwelcome, Aemond's anger erupted. “You hurt her!” he roared, his voice laced with venom.

A throbbing pain radiated through your skull, swelling with every clash of voices and yells. Gritting your teeth against the discomfort, you finally opened your eyes wide enough to glimpse Jace, knife in hand. A pang of urgency surged within you, prompting a weak plea, “Jace, put that away.”

You longed to retreat into darkness, to let the cacophony fade away, but the din continued to swell. Jace unleashed a handful of sand, blinding Aemond momentarily, while Luke, with fierce determination, rushed forward carrying Jace's knife. “Luke, no!” you cried, though your words were nearly drowned in the chaos.

And then, before you could breathe another word, the world faded away into shadows, consumed by the horrifying scream that sliced through the air — Aemond's anguished cry as Luke struck at his eye.

To Be Continued...

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

2K notes · View notes

onmyyan · 7 months ago

Text

Ain't no sunshine

Chapter 4

A/n: love this series, fem reader, yandere themes, platonic yandere Batfamily

Taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs @starsdotalk @ghostdoodlen @nickey-diano @76lonelyspoons @m3vl0vesu @uknowimdumb

"What's this about Gordon?" Damian asks after arriving in the dining room, he was perplexed by her message, what on earth would they need to speak about you of all people?

"(Y/n) moved out." Barbara says biting the bullet.

There was a moment of silence as her words registered before chaos broke out.

"What do you mean moved out?" Dick asks putting down the bagel he was eating his eyes held disbelief, "I mean I just checked her room and she's gone." Barbara says making his stomach lurch.

"We missed her birthday." Tim speaks suddenly realizing, his mind working a mile a minute. Jason curses under his breath at the revelation, how could he be such an idiot?

"You're wrong she wouldn't leave like that." Dick shook his head, the thought of you simply disappearing sent a wave of deep-seated unease through the family, and something else, something much darker had been born in that moment within each of them.

"Alfred confirmed it." Barbara says softly trying not to upset Dick further than he was.

Cass stood still before signing, "How could we not have noticed?"

Damian having enough of the conversation pulled out his phone calling your number, only to be met with the same answer Barbara got when she tried, his brows furrowed as the automated voice told him the number was disconnected. "Her phone's off." He speaks a pit forming in his stomach,

The Manor was quieter than usual.

That's the first thing Bruce notices when he wakes up that morning, an almost empty quiet filled the halls as he went from his bedroom to the study, he couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly and this bothered him to no end.

Alfred stood diligently by the marble counter top waiting for Bruce's instructions, "Good morning Alfred."

"Master Bruce." Alfred greeted him simply, rather curt for the old man, and Bruce notices this immediately, his mind racing on what he could have done to upset the man. "Is something wrong Alfred?"

"To be the world's greatest detective you can be incredibly dense." Alfred served him his coffee without another word and made Bruce feel like a child being scolded for something.

It wasn't until he walked by your room did his senses go off, it was much too quiet in there, knocking softly he found the door opening from the slightest touch. Alarm bells immediately start going off at just how empty it is, how void of life. He rushed downstairs, searching for Alfred to question him, when he saw his whole family gathered in the dining room.

They stare at him, all with that deer in a headlight look, "What?" He asks knowing something was up.

"(Y/n)'s gone." Dick speaks up, biting at his thumb, "And we missed her birthday." Jason adds on his guilt making his shoulders slump inward.

Bruce looks over to Alfred as if to confirm what he was told, the older man simply nods.

Meanwhile on the other side of Gotham, you're completely unaware of the chaos your absence is causing. Too busy enjoying your new life.

Bruce went to the cave immediately, checking the cameras for your form, he searched through a week of footage before he saw your graceful exit from the manor. A week. A fucking week you'd been gone and your own father hadn't noticed.

Bruce had felt like a true failure only a handful of times in his life, losing Jason, and now, you.

Only this time there was no Joker to blame, it was him. His fault his daughter felt the need to disappear without so much as a goodbye. The years of ignoring your presence simply because you were his 'easy child' the one he never had to worry about, the one who never made waves, come crashing down upon him, he rests his head on his hands, eyes never leaving the screen. "What have I done?" He speaks lowly, mind reeling from the shame of his inaction.

His blue eyes hardened at the sight of you on the screen, he could fix this, couldn't he? He just needed a second chance, he'd show you the love you deserved, the nurturing you needed, he didn't care that you were a legal adult now, (he winces at the thought of forgetting such an important birthday, he'd throw you the party of all parties once he got you home, he swore it.) you were his daughter, his youngest daughter, and you needed him no matter what you thought.

Dick Grayson prided himself on many things, one of which being his bond with his family, so to be faced with the reality that he wasn't the best big brother around, kind of shatters him. He refused to accept the fact that his, along with everyone else's actions, lead to your choice to abandon them, instead he reasoned, you were feeling rebellious, youthful energy and all that, he was sure once you got this out of your system you'd be right back where you belonged. Where he could keep an eye on you, a proper eye this time.

Jason fumes silent, pacing the kitchen, he feels like a cat is clawing at his skin from the inside, unable to do anything with his pent up frustration he grips the counter top hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He hated himself right now, hated how garbage he felt, you were only eighteen, all on your lonesome in a city like Gotham? It was enough to set the hairs on his neck on edge.

Tim was busy on his tablet, he was already searching the city's CCTV cameras for any trace of you, his fingers working so fast they cramped, sweat drips down his brow as he searched, unable to tear himself away from his task. He felt maybe just maybe if he found you, he could begin to make up for how shitty he'd treated you, begin to open up to you in the way you'd always wanted. He needed to find you, and based on the usually composed family's obvious panic, it needed to be fast.

Barbara busied herself with rummaging through your empty room for anything she could use to find you, if she just had the chance to explain herself, she's sure you'd understand, sure you'd look at her with that expression you had when you were younger, like she was your personal hero.

Cassandra finds herself staring out at the distant view of Gotham, her hands twitching at her sides as she struggles not to take action, sure she didn't have a bond with you like she did with the others but she still cared for you, from a distance, she felt it was safer as you were the only civilian in the family. A choice she thinks now was a mistake. Maybe if she'd let her walls down a little more, you'd have confided in her instead of leaving.

Damian, in his rage, wasted no time heading to the cave to suit up, there he found his Father, still leaning over the computer table. "What are you doing?" Bruce asks barley looking away from the screen. "What do you think? Going to find that idiot before she gets herself killed." He seethes yanking on his tactical gloves.

"Damian -"

"How dare she leave us- we are a family." He spits the word out like it's a curse, "You don't leave your family." He reiterates slamming his hands into the table holding various gadgets. "I'm going to find that fool and drag her back here." He promised.

"Just hold on for a moment." Bruce stands walking over to his son to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "We have no idea where she is, let us do some recon. Tim will find her address in no time, if she's still in Gotham we'll find her within the week."

Damian hesitantly agreed to his father's reasoning.

It takes them a week to find you, you were very good at hiding your tracks, using only cash, staying in shady areas because they weren't monitored, it's only when you post a selfie with some new friends do they lock your location down.

Tim took five minutes to himself to stare at the photo before alerting the family, he found it after all, he felt entitled to it, to the joy on your face, the other people in the picture made it easier to find you, first he found their names, then their addresses and used that along with the small bits of background he could see to triangulate your new address.

He'd never seen that look on your face, it was a casual cocky sort of grin, one that said you were genuinely enjoying yourself. He couldn't fathom how you were so happy without them, it sort of hurt his feelings, but at the same time he needed to see more of that smile, see what other expressions you made, he'd only ever seen that sad dejected look on your face, he huffs to himself, saving the picture for himself before sending the info to the group chat.

Bruce decided to let one of his kids do the interacting with you, feeling too ashamed to face you yet, he sends Dick, knowing you once looked up to him.

You're three hours into a horror movie marathon, courtesy of the box TV you stole off the back of a moving truck, when someone knocks at your door.

You don't pause the movie, using it as cover to tip toe towards the door, sure it was still early in the night, but everything was dangerous in Gotham.

You don't say a word, sneakily looking through the grimey peephole all you can make out is a tall dark haired man.

He knocks again causing you to flinch. Swiping knife out the drawer, you hide it behind your back before swinging open the door expecting the people you'd stolen the TV from or maybe one of the thugs you'd beaten black and blue, not Dick Grayson.

"Hey little bird." He greets like an old time friend, not the man who'd ignored you your entire relationship.

"How the fuck- what are you doing here?" You sigh revealing the knife as you rest your hand on your hip, exasperated by his mere presence. He eyes the knife before laughing, "I like the energy, good call living in this neighborhood." He invites himself inside, scrutinizing your apartment, a deep sigh leaving his lips, "You shouldn't be living like this-"

"Hold the fuck on." You point the knife at him accusingly, "You didn't know I existed a week ago, now you barge into my home," you emphasize with another point, "shit all over it and start lecturing me about how I should live?" You stare at him like he's grown another head before laughing, he friend stepping closer, "I'm ...I'm sorry, I know I forgot your birthday - we forgot, but you didn't need to run away-"

"I didn't run from shit." Crossing your arms, "I'm an adult, I moved out." You say pointedly.

"Be that as it may- you should have said something, do you have any idea how worried we've been?" He pleads, brows furrowed, "I know you're mad, you've every right to be, but this isn't safe." He gestures to your apartment. "I walked past a drug deal on the way up here ya know." He chides like he's scolding s child.

"Come back to the manor." He says softly, stepping closer once more, until he could touch your shoulder, "no need to leave the nest so soon." You stare at his hand, then him, before pointing the knife at him, your hand steady,

"Get the fuck outta my house."

Dick leaves reluctantly, he was determined to bring you home, thought you'd jump in his arms for a hug once he showed up, but you didn't, you looked at him with disgust, anger, and a hint of fear, he hated it. He wanted you to look up at him like the big brother he was, not like your enemy.

You're panting after the encounter, knife clattering to the ground, you follow shortly after, collapsing as your mind tried to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

It was a storm, so you latched on to the one feeling that would anchor you, rage.

You don't sleep that night. And it's a good thing because Damian is breaking through your window lock like it was the easiest thing, he enters your home, face deadset in a glare. "You left the manor for this shit hole?" He almost laughs, his hand on his sword makes you incredibly nervous. "What's it matter to you? Thought you'd be thrilled." You roll your eyes, too exhausted to deal with another one of them in such a short time period.

"You've disrupted the natural flow in the manor with this little stunt." He seethes, "I'm going to restore it." He states as if speaking a fact. "How prey tell do you intend on doing that, you massive twat?" He simply smirks before looking behind you, you turn around and see Jason leaning against the wall, his red hood mask on, obstructing his facial expression, making him all the more unnerving.

"You're a long way from home." Jason says kicking off the wall, moving to hover behind you, "Why are you here?! Okay I'm officially over this reunion, out." You point to the window they entered from.

"Oh we're leaving, just not without you." Jason chimes up his hand hovering over his guns, fingers twitching.

To your defense, you did try and run, but it was no use, they were on you faster than you could process, a sweet smelling cloth is pressed to your mouth, and as much as you fight it, eventually you need to breathe, it takes one good inhale for the chloroform to kick in, you slump in someone's hold you're unsure of which one and your world fades to black.

#yandere dc imagine #yandere dc #yandere #various yandere x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #aint no sunshine

1K notes · View notes

fyuyushia · 7 days ago

Text

°|Capture target: You!

Jinwoo reunites with an old friend—an old crush—and unexpectedly stumbles upon an eccentric quest titled: Romance.

Masterlist for the series

I—I know I said full fledged fic but like... I have so much I want to do with it I gyatt to make it a series man.

Sing Jinwoo fails to comprehend what goes on in the system's mind(if it even has one) whenever it issues borderline insane quests to him every now and then. Though he was no stranger to the system's eccentric quests that popped up once in a while, this was by far the most baffling one yet. He doubts it would even be topped by anything else.

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Rewards: Weapon: Lovey dovey-kyun! [S-rank]

Skill: Love is the greatest superpower! | Knight in shining armor

Accept?

Yes/No]

Jinwoo blinked, surprise flickering in his usual monochromatic eyes. A romantic side quest? Sung Jinwoo's brows furrowed as he scrutinized the holograph in front of him.

Written in big bold letters, were words he'd never expected to be asked for by the system. The omniscient being who somehow helped him level up, gave one of the weirdest quests yet

He deadpans, nearly visibly cringing at the cutie dovey skill names. What was that supposed to mean?

In the first place, how did he even get to this point—this specific moment where the system asks him to romance someone he's known during high school?

It all started at a highschool reunion. Under Jinah's insistence—who overheard Jinwoo getting ringed by acquaintances from his highschool inviting him for a reunion—he ended up going despite wishing to spend the day training and doing his dailies.

Jinwoo grumbled, his experiences in highschool weren't exactly pleasant. He could count the people that really made a positive difference to his life from those years on one hand. And that was saying something. In his mind, he found no reason to attend such a frivolous gathering. In the first place, he was never even invited and only got added to the group chat recently when news came out that he was Korea's 10th S-rank hunter.

The party was exhausting. Just as he expected, so many of his once upon a time classmates coddled up to him, hoping to curry over his favor now that he was of substance. How despicable.

Seeking respite from the onslaught of plasticity the gathering brought, he found shelter in a nearby balcony. He breathes in the fresh air of the night, allowing the wind to hit his skin and chill the nerves that accumulated inside him. Breathing out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slack off from its rigid posture when they had finally given him his long fought peace.

For a while, Jinwoo spends the time alone, simply admiring the night sky that shone brightly with stars.

"Mind if I occupy this space as well?"

Of course, such peace wouldn't last long. Jinwoo barely holds in a sigh, preparing to leave. He turns around on his heel, but pauses midway.

Your name leaves his lips in a soft whisper. His eyes widen ever so slightly, a bit of shine returning once h's reunited with you.

"Hey, Jinwoo, right?"

He swallows thickly, closing his parted lips. Shifting to the side, he allows room for you to stand beside him. You quickly accepted the wordless offer, hands circling around the railing when you got close enough.

You take in a breath of fresh air, a smile curving up as you feel the wind dance around your hair. The stars hung up on the sky had made for a good view. Dozens of them were scattered about, decorating the inky black sky with its light. The moon, above all, shone down its soothing light upon the earth, illuminating the sky with the brightest light.

"It's been a long time," you say. Your eyes remained fixated to the sky. "Would you be willing to entertain a conversation? Or would you prefer the company of silence instead?"

His breath hitched. "How have you been?" His voice graced your presence, allowing his question to serve as his answer.

Your eyes crinkle, amused. "Well, I just recently got promoted so now I'm busier than ever." You sighed, thinking of the drastically increasing paperwork you had to deal with.

"That sounds great yet also exhausting." He chuckles softly, sparing a glance in your direction.

"Really, it is." You shake your head. "But I doubt it's as exhausting as your life now."

"Mine?"

"Right, yours." You tilt your head to the side to face him. "After all, not everyone reawakens and gets ranked the ever glorious S-rank status. I've seen you on the news several times, you know?"

Jinwoo again chuckles, this time more awkwardly than the previous.

"It's not that..." He trailed off, unsure of what words to use to deflect. He couldn't say it wasn't impressive, not when S-ranks were far and few in between, no.

You giggle, seemingly catching onto his intentions. "Impressive? I beg to differ."

Jinwoo clears his throat, keeping his gaze transfixed on the scenery in front of him. His heart however, grew weaker and weaker as he stood by your side. A part of him longed to gawk at your reflection, admire every change brought by the years to you.

In the end, he gave in to the small part that yearned to see you. His gaze flits to where you stood beside him.

You've grown, it was a thought that really settled on his mind. Much like how he had changed, you had also undergone different changes which resulted in the you he was seeing now. Your features matured, sharpened enough to drill in the fact that, you were, in fact, a working adult now. Though exhaustion drapes over you like a blanket around your shoulders, your smile contained the whimsicality you once adorned during your highschool years, keeping that innocence somewhat intact despite all the cards you've been dealt with.

A part of him still admitted to the fact that he found you charming. Then again, he always did, even back then. It started out as a simple puppy crush, his gaze lingered in your direction, and you allowed him to stand beside you as a friend during those years. He faintly remembers planning to confess, only to halt it when he learned that you were planning to leave the country to pursue a higher rate of education.

It's been years since then, and he would've thought he'd already moved on from you. In the end, he never did get over you or your charming laugh.

"When did you return?"

"A little over 2 years by now."

"And I wasn't informed?" He quirks up a brow, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"I did inform you! I messaged you several times! Just on a new number since I had to get one after flying back here."

"You did?" He blinked, recalling the messages he received during that time frame. Sure enough, he remembers blocking a number who consistently pestered him, thinking it was a scammer trying to cheat him. "Ah, you did."

"I did. You even blocked me." You replied without skipping a beat, glaring at him in contempt.

"My bad, I thought it was a scammer."

You huffed, shaking your head. "Huh, figured."

Sweat drips down Jinwoo's head. He didn't mean to block you, but the constant ringing gave him the tell-tale signs of a scammer and made him misunderstand.

The conversation resumed, flowing easily from there on out. Surprisingly enough, despite having expected wanting solitude, he ended up not minding your presence at all, enjoyed it even. Topics came as easily as they went, moving on from one to another without much commitment.

Jinwoo finds himself relaxing in your presence. All the prior awkwardness he felt dissipating the longer he stayed in your presence. His demeanor gradually softened, becoming more and more open with his thoughts and emotions.

With such vulnerability came the inevitable repeat of history.

Under the starry night that laid witness to your quiet reunion, Jinwoo's heart swayed—for a bit. Only for a bit. he excused it as the lingering feelings of a school crush and nothing more, really, nothing more.

He's gotten past that phase now, erased every bit of him that existed during those happy times.

Once you've both said your piece, wished best for each other and more, a comfortable silence wrapped around you both. It wasn't one that demanded someone to speak to get rid of it, but moreover a time spent in the presence of someone close to recharge. Needlessly, without speaking, your friendship mended itself throughout the course.

Again, he finds his gaze naturally gravitating towards you once more. No, it's not that he still had lingering feelings, it's moreso out of curiosity. He still has a hard time believing that time really has flown, he reasons to nobody but himself.

He parts his lips slightly, surprised when he finds you staring back at him as well. You seemed equally in shock, cheeks warming up slightly as your brows quirked up, then furrowed at the sudden attention.

You avert your gaze, seemingly flustered. He in turn, feels his heart racing slightly faster as well. Contrary to you, his eyes remained on you despite your panicking shenanigans, not minding the fact that he was also caught right before he even got the chance to allow a glance at your visage without your knowledge.

Eventually, fortunately, you stopped panicking and slowed down to just a fiddle of your fingers. Resting them against the railings, your eyes slowly meet his once more.

Then, what happened—what nearly happened—next had his breath hitching. Perhaps it was the alcohol getting in his system(he can't get drunk, but he wants to find a reason), but he leaned ever so slightly towards your direction. You follow, lost in the very same magic he fell victim to.

Perhaps it was the night sky that accentuated your features better than anything else.

Perhaps it was his feelings just going rampant after being bottled for so long without proper closure.

He looks at your lips, taking a quick glance before shifting upwards. Ah, you're already closing your eyes.

His heart picks up the pace, beating faster and faster than the last. Ignoring the loud thrumming he pushes in on the distance. He could feel your breath fanning over his skin, could feel you tipping over to seal the distance.

Casting one last glance, he seals the dis—

[Hidden Quest unlocked!]

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Rewards: 10000 exp

Weapon: Lovey dovey-kyun! [S-rank]

Skill: Love is the greatest superpower! | Knight in shining armor

Accept?

Yes/No]

He pauses. The quest had appeared directly over your face, blocking you from him entirely.

Along with the quest box, came his sense of reason. Blinking once, blinking twice, he immediately jumps away, the tips of his ears turning red. He must have gone insane, almost kissing a girl he had only seen again today.

"S-sorry," he stammers, breaking out of character. "I seem to have gotten a bit tipsy. Alcohol sure is scary." He lies through the grit of his teeth.

You snap out of it as well. Opening your eyes, you look up, look down, and then away. You take a step back away from him as well, retrieving the distance the both of you had closed without even realizing.

"Ah, yes! I think so as well." You fan yourself with your hand, an awkward chuckle escaping you. "Alcohol sure is scary."

He nods, a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. A tense silence overtakes the both of you. Unlike the comfortable one you shared with him just moments ago, this one was uncomfortable, daring you to speak just to prevent this quiet. But what? What would be a great thing to say in this situation?

"Wooh, it sure is getting hot here, isn't it?"

Jinwoo flinches, but eagerly agrees with your comment. "Indeed, climate change is starting to be really felt."

Global warming? Mana stones helped solve that problem a few years ago, dang it! No better excuse than this?

You don't notice the idiocy of his reply, nodding eagerly without a second thought just to salvage the situation.

Jinwoo clears his throat, grey hues subtly looking at you. Again, he's met with the blue screen of his system.

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Rewards: 10000 exp

Weapon: Lovey dovey-kyun! [S-rank]

Skill: Love is the greatest superpower! | Knight in shining armor

Accept?

Yes/No]

He narrows his eyes. Scrutinizing the quest, he has the urge to punch it despite knowing it would simply phase through. What kind of ridiculous quest was this? In the first place, the names are so cringy, he thinks. He would rather be caught dead than caught using such lousy sounding skills. The weapon itself was questionable too, lovey dovey-kyun? Really now? That was just another level of cringe entirely!

And, really, romance? Make them fall in love with him? They can't be serious. Jinwoo saw them as a friend, nothing more, nothing less. The crush he had on them was gone, gone he insists!

What were they getting at?

He huffs, verbalizing the word no. 'No I do not want to reject this quest just yet, I'm still thinking. Do not count this as my answer'

He stopped himself midway.

On second thought, yes.

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Rewards: 10000 exp

Weapon: Lovey dovey-kyun! [S-rank]

Skill: Love is the greatest superpower!

Knight in shining armor

Accept?

Yes]

[Loading quest]

[Quest accepted!]

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Duration: ???

Current status: Lvl 1. Acquaintance

Affection meter: 5%

Feeling: (Locked. Reach affection lvl 3 to activate) ]

His Adam apple bobs as he gulps down the saliva that balled up in his throat. The quest was the real deal. If he looked up, he could see the status window appearing on top of your head. Written in bold letters was your name, and below was the affection meter.

No, he didn't accept it because he still likes you, no, that's not his style. He's just curious about the rewards. That's it. That's all.

"Say," he calls your name, beckoning you to look over at him. "I feel guilty about unintentionally locking you out of my life by blocking your number." He's quick to get to work, as always. If it meant for a chance to get stronger, indeed, this was definitely done to get stronger.

Drumming his fingers against the railing, he reigns in the urge to shadow step once and for all and run away. How funny, this would be the first time he ever ran away from a situation if he did.

"As apology, can I take you out for coffee one of these days? I'd like to talk more in a less louder place."

You stopped breathing, you worried your heart did too. Luckily for you, all it did was do a flip and skeap a beat. You still lived, it seems.

"Huh? Oh, ah, sure! I'm free anytime." You sputter out a reply.

"Great, please look forward to it, then."

He flashes you a small smile, he hopes you don't notice just how red his ears became. "Then, I have some other business to attend to so I have to go."

"Huh? But wait, I still haven't given you—" he falls seamlessly below his shadow and sinks into it wholely before you even finish. "My number yet..."

Your voice dies down when you find yourself all alone on the balcony, Jinwoo's presence erased without a single hint of the fact that he was here at all but your memory. Wind gushes past you as he disappears beneath the shadows, ending up in who knows where.

"Ah, he's gone." You murmur, dazed and awe-struck.

"Ah wait, his offer—wasn't that practically a—a date?!"

Before you could panic over the fact, the sight of a humanoid knight like shadow took his place in front of you.

...

Jinwoo appears on top of a rooftop. Whose house was it? He doesn't know. Too caught up in simply wanting to get away, he didn't notice the location or which shadow he exchanged with.

'Ah, crap, he forgot to ask for your number.'

He realizes with a start. Rubbing his hair and mussing it up, he clicks a tongue in annoyance. How was he to contact you now?

He sits down, finally rid of the need to act calm and rational when he was anything but. Sighing, he rests his weight on both hands whilst he leans back.

Calling forth his status window, he curiously scans the window showcasing your information once more.

[Quest: Romance the capture target: [Name]

Duration: ???

Current status: Lvl 1. Acquaintance

Affection meter: 7%

Feeling: (Locked. Reach affection lvl 3 to activate) ]

Jinwoo quickly notices the change. Though he had only seen the status window shortly once, he knew for sure it was only 5% before. Seeing it rise to 2 percent, Jinwoo couldn't help but let out the faintest smile.

He sighs, closing off the window. What ridiculous quest, happening at such a bad time too.

If it just appeared a few seconds later, then perhaps he would've gotten the chance to—no. He doesn't see you that way, not anymore.

No, he's moved on. Really, he's really moved on.

He covers the lower half of his face with the back of his head. Brows furrowed and lips forming a small frown, he refused to acknowledge the fact that his cheeks were reddening at the thought.

"Their lips seemed soft..."

His bites his lips, his thoughts which constantly replayed the memory of you betraying his attempts at reigning in this little puppy love that came back tenfold.

This is all because of the goddamn system.

Tags: @daiyanomochi

#ᯓᡣ𐭩fyuyu's works #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #manhwa x reader #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #sung jinwoo x you

420 notes · View notes

sugusatosluut · 18 days ago

Text

The Nanny?

Synopsis: Mark finally meets the nanny that Debbie won’t stop talking about.

A/N: I want to preface this by saying thank you all for your kind reblogs and the likes! Makes me so happy that these silly little fics give you guys some joy. Requests are open 🩷🩶💙

Mark finally had some free time to spend with his mother Debbie. He waited at their favorite coffe spot for his mom to arrive with Oliver so they could spend some quality time together. His mother had been mentioning something about special sitters or a daycare for children of supers. Whatever she was talking about, Mark had no time to hear about it, but he had time today. He wanted to know about this society of babysitters his mom believed in. Would Oliver be safe? Would his mother be safe? All valid questions he should have asked upon hearing about this for months.

Debbie finally arrived, Mark watched as she parked, got out of the front seat and scrambled possibly for Oliver in the back seat. To Mark’s surprise, Debbie entered the shop without Oliver in hand and a smile on her face. The gift in her hands was fairly small. She handed the box off silently while still smiling at Mark. She gave Mark a peck on his head and sat down in front of him.

“Hi honey, how are you today?” Debbie asked refreshed.

“Good—listen mom, where’s Oliver?” He asked pretty bluntly.

“Mark, I’ve tried to tell you about this new nanny for months, you gotta keep up with your family and stop spending all that time in space and with Cecil.” She sighed.

“Sorry mom.. what nanny? Can you start from the top?” He asked.

Debbie explained to mark that she interviewed twenty seven babysitters. Each was unique but she could always tell when they were sent by Cecil, or if they weren’t as qualified. Just when she’d given up hope, you walked in. The last interview of the day made her fear for her expectations, until you mentioned that you have a younger sibling who’s always been a super. You offered full time care, housekeeping duties, teaching Oliver and even offered overnight care if Debbie or Mark needed a break or couldn’t make it home. You ended up being the perfect pick. For months, you’d been staying at the Grayson’s caring for Oliver, cleaning and sleeping in Nolan’s old office which was made into a guest bedroom for you. You were practically Debbie’s saving grace.

Upon hearing how you basically saved his mother, Mark was a little skeptical about if you were really working for Cecil or if this was all just a lie. You were usually quiet so Mark would never know you were in his home. This was a but much for Mark to take in, especially because before coming to earth, Mark was Oliver’s sole caretaker. Who could do it better than him?

After lunch Debbie and Mark made it home. You were in the living room playing a memory game with Oliver when they walked into the living room. Mark was expecting Oliver to run to him, calling him “bra-bra” but instead, Oliver stayed focused on the memory game and you, the nanny, who sat taking turns with him matching cards.

“Good afternoon Debbie, Mark. Oliver’s been acing this memory game, you’ve got an Einstein.” You chuckled.

“Thank you y/n.” Debbie hugged you before setting her bags down.

“I’m grilling steak and making pasta tonight for dinner, so you can relax. Mark will you be staying for dinner?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure why not.”

Mark was in shock of how beautiful and kind you were. He was expecting some experienced lady well beyond her years but you? You’re the last thing he would have ever guessed. This didn’t change anything though. He needed to investigate further.

You grilled dinner for the Graysons. The table was set, Oliver’s high chair was prepared and the house was spotless. Mark still felt off. Maybe he was gaslighting himself to protect his family and himself? The fact of the matter is you’re too nice and he doesn’t know you that well. Everyone sat at the table as you buckled Oliver into his seat.you gave Oliver some steak, some applesauce and little cubes of cheese. The baby was growing fast, he was always wanting new things.

“Uhh- y/n, Oliver’s a baby, he can’t have steak.” Mark said.

“Oliver’s grown a lot the past few months Mark, he loves solid foods. Especially chewey foods.” You chuckled. Debbie chuckled handing Oliver a small piece of steak that you cut for him.

“Yummy!” Oliver exclaimed.

“It’s so great to finally meet you Mark. Your mom always tells me how busy you are, how were your last few fights?” You asked.

“Great, it’s hard to be in two places at once though. I wanna care for my family but the world needs protection too.” He said.

“I get that completely, you’re doing a great job. Oliver is so lucky to have you as his brother!” You smiled.

“So, you know Cecil Stedman?” He asked.

“I do. But I don’t work for him. I only know him because my younger brother works for him. Cecil’s not exactly my favorite person and I don’t quite like him that much either. That man is known for crossing boundaries and finding loopholes.” You scoffed.

Mark couldn’t disagree with you there.

“Seriously! The man is just so invasive. You ask him to leave you alone and then suddenly your whole family is getting spied on. This is the man that wants respect and for people to work with him?” Debbie laughed.

Mark hadn’t seen his mom laugh in forever, and it was great to see her finally relax and be happy. After dinner, you and Mark cleaned up the kitchen together. Debbie settled Oliver down for bed and went to go to bed herself. It was nice to be around this family compared to your own. You really never got to see them anymore. Your brother was off fighting some threat in another country while your parents tried to hold you to his standards and use you as the free help if they ever needed him taken care of. It’s probably why you’re so good at your job. You were so deep into your thoughts that you were staring out the window. You didn’t even realize you and Mark had finished cleaning the entire kitchen.

“Hey.. you okay?” Mark asked standing next to you.

“Hm? —oh yeah, sorry. Just a lot going on in my brain. I love being here, Oliver is a wonderful kid and your mom is amazing. I just wish I had this with my family.” You smiled at him. It really was no big deal.

“I’m sorry.. and I want to apologize for being kind of an ass. I was wrong about you. I didn’t say anything to my mom about it and I shouldn’t have come off so strong but I like you. It’s hard for me to trust people especially after my dad. You’re good with Oliver and my mom… and you��re good with me too.” Mark smiled.

He looked at you for quite sometime. Mark had an idea but he would have to wait until Debbie and Oliver were asleep. The night was still young. You showered, changed and prepared your bed for a long night’s sleep until Mark knocked on your cracked door.

“Knock knock” he said smiling. Mark wasn’t in his pajamas, he was in his suit, holding a very much awake Oliver.

“Oh, hey!” You whispered.

“Little man was wide awake in his crib. He wanted to see you.” Mark smiled as he held Oliver.

Oliver cooed, you waited for Mark to give him to you, but it seemed as if he was conflicted. If Mark wanted to put his brother back to sleep, you wouldn’t dare rob him of this time.

“Mark if you have to go fight crime or save the world I’d be happy to let Oliver sleep in my room unless you want to put him to sleep first.” You smiled.

Mark gave you a look of worry. He smiled to Oliver and then to himself.

“Stay awake, I’ll be back.” He said.

It took him a little while, but Mark finally put Oliver to sleep after getting some pointers from you about what Oliver needs for him to get tired.

Mark approached your room again, seeing that you were just barely awake, eyes starting to close as you sat at the edge of your bed. Mark made his presence known before coming to sit next to you.

“Wanna go on a joyride?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh I dunno Mark what about Debbie and Oliver?” You asked.

“They’ll be fine, we’ll be back in an hour.” He smiled at you.

Mark picked you up, you both traveled for a taste of the world’s greatest ice cream. You both bonded and got to know eachother much better before stopping back at the house. You and Mark were in his bedroom watching tv and hanging out.

“I hope I was able to make you more comfortable here in our home y/n. Oliver’s lucky to have a nanny like you and I’m lucky to have someone who cares so much about my family and I. That’s all I’ve been asking for and you do it perfectly.” He smiled at you.

You yawned, standing up and making your way towards Mark’s bedroom door.

“I’m here for you guys, I’m gonna go lay down. Thank you for tonight Mark, you’re too sweet and kind. I’ll see you in the morning.” You smiled at him.

Before leaving his room. Mark stood up and walked towards you. It compelled him, the way you were so kind and respectful. Internally he was conflicted, but externally he knew what he needed from you. So Mark stood close to you, holding your face in his hands and kissed you zealously. Your face was red from the contact. His lips were soft and warm, you wanted more but out of respect for Debbie and love for Oliver, this was your one freebie. Do not take advantage of this.

The next morning you and Mark awoke happily and eager to greet eachother in the morning. Debbie noticed the excitement and joined in hugging her son and you.

“Come on mark we’re gonna be late to the mixer!” She said as she grabbed her keys and rushed to the car.

You said goodbye to Debbie and mark as you waved goodbye with Oliver’s hands. They took off and Debbie took this opportunity to tease him as they entered the car together.

“So… the Nanny?” Debbie chuckled.

“Ugh—mom!” Mark shouted.

#mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #debbie grayson #oliver grayson #mark grayson fluff #invincible fluff

951 notes · View notes

juricel · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy its me again

I have a silly request for you which you can ignore if you want to, since I think your ask box is piling up haha!

basically,

Yandere reader x pre corrupt shadow milk cookie turns to reader x Yandere shadow milk cookie

Reader, at first is super obsessed and does a lot of stuff for pre-corrupted shadow milk cookie and hes like super disgusted by how they’re acting. And suddenly, reader disappears one day, and hes fine with it

beasts get corrupted then get jailed,,

while in jail shadow milk cookie misses how loving y/n was, and realised that he has taken them for granted </33 And now he wants them back because of how love deprived he became

when hes out of the silver tree he see’s y/n again and at first hes all hip hip hooray !! until he sees that y/ns clinging onto the THIEF!!!

he goes batshit crazy, you can be creative with this if you want or just give your little ideas/comments I just really want more food wahah

so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, it’s 2am :’)

tysm for reading oh great one!! you don’t have to do this right away dont worry love ur work already

—💤non

a/n: it's okay, i understand what you were aimimg for! I focused on the other requests before this one and had some church duties to do, so I apologize for having you need to wait for so long.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x past yandere! reader (ft. the bus driver, pure vanilla cookie.)

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, corruption, objectification, stalking, pure vanilla cookie needs a fucking break, one of these warnings is not like the rest, potential ooc.

𖦁 blueberry milk cookie was a heaven sent gift from the witches above, he was a celestial jewel, an angel's whisper brought down to earth, the very breath of seraphim—an impossible, transcendental blessing cradled in the tender arms of witches' own grace. he was a splendid confection, kneaded from divine essence, destined to scatter blessings upon the crumbed multitudes of earthbread—a being way out of your league, you, an ordinary cookie who could crumble and wither into a flour with not a single eye batting to your direction.

𖦁 ah, but how radiant he was, you couldn't help yourself from your love, your dear, your luminous, immortal darling. does he even know? does he grasp the way his mind glows, the way his thoughts spill like molten gold onto the parchment of your very soul? he was your everything, your love—your guiding star, your perfect darling, your sole, necessary breath. and yet, the world, the pitiful, ignorant world, could not comprehend his brilliance, like a mere toy, they had molded him, and cast him aside once their utilitarian need had been served; they did not deserve him. no, the world could not deserve him—those who fail to recognize the sacredness of his mind, who treat his wisdom as commonplace, who look upon him without the reverence of a disciple at the feet of a god—it sickens you, stirs a fury deep within your chest. in the hollowed, gleaming corridors of his towering spire, you would see them—fawning, indulging in their miserable, blind inanities, lost in the sick lies they prefer over the sublime truth he alone could offer. and mind you, it was he—he—who spent his invaluable time, his precious moments, entangled with these dull, odious fools, these imbecilic cookies just for them to throw it away! he should not have to share his divine self with such paltry, uninspired creatures. no, no, no. you could not abide it. you would sever every connection, carve away every distraction, erase every tether that pulled him from you. and if it were required to cloak him in the softest, most unrelenting shadow, to shield him from the world that could never grasp his greatness, to hide him where only your gaze could drink in the luminous glow of his mind—so be it. you would protect him, cherish him, and keep him safe from those who could never understand him as you do.

𖦁 yet, he couldn't seem to understand it all; with every embrace, a look of disdain was given to you, as if you were a taint smeared upon heavens, can't he understand? these cookies were the one that were evil! they will defile him, corrupt his very name with degeneracy! you were merely shielding him away from the evil, how could he not comprehend that? he must've been brainwashed. yes, surely, or so that was what you wanted to believe, however, all his actions proved otherwise: with every touch, he recoiled, like a skittish moth repelled by the flame it once sought. with every affectionate word, he replied in clipped, mechanical syllables, blunt and cold, each one landing with the weight of a slammed door. there was no love in them—no warmth, no hesitance, no trace of a feeling that might, by some miracle, have softened the harsh lines of his indifference. you learned quickly that tenderness was a language he neither spoke nor cared to decipher. a hand reaching for his own was met with a perfunctory pat, a touch devoid of meaning, as if acknowledging, rather than returning, the gesture. you could pour all your warmth into him, let it trickle down the cracks in his facade, but he would not absorb it. He remained, steadfast in his distance, near enough to torment, far enough to elude. you tried to believe in the silences, in the space between his words, in the possibility that somewhere beneath that marble exterior, there was something that resembled love. but hope, much like affection, was wasted on him. you tried, really! to continue loving him, you truly did, but, ah, your feelings leisurely diminished into grains of flour until your love turned into rust and dust.

𖦁 it wasn't long until then your unfortunate sweet dear darling, the celestial beacon in your life was sullied into taint when you vanished into thin air. from graces, he fell, and into the bottom of the endless pit of corruption.

𖦁 and oh, how much he changed: in the cold, lonely cell, he reminisced the past, thought of you, thought of your oh so tender gentle caresses! and to say that it made him deprived of warmth, made him ache—hunger not for food, but for yours was an understatement. he sought and yearned for it, hunger gnawed, a sensation with fangs, sharp and insistent, curling inside his ribs like a starved serpent. he gwaned for you—not sweetly, not poetically, but in the way of a body denied water, of lips cracked and trembling at the edge of a mirage. oh, to be held, to be devoured, to be anything but this wretched hunger pressing against the ribs, licking at the throat, whispering: more, more, more... ah! he couldn't stop it! he promises to himself that he'd apologize to you and pamper you with affection once he gets out of this petulant little silver tree!

𖦁 and he'd definitely stick to his word; the moment he flees from the withering tree binding him and his allies, he had his priorities straight: to find his dear darling! he was beyond ectastic, thoughts filled of embracing you once more and kissing you, but, ah, none could prepare him for the sight that would unfold infront of his very gaze—his sweet puppet was linking arms with /him/. at first, he laughed, he chuckled and brushed it off, no, no, surely he was just presuming things! there was no way his dear would betray him and replace him with such a... ungracious caricature of a cookie, right? right? if you were, he'd definitely need to give you a better eyes as a replacement which was a no worries for him! he has a nice stock of replacement! surely, you wouldn't stoop down to that level of degeneracy. yet, you didn't approach him like he thought and dreamed of within the silved tree, you only took a cautious step back, away from him, away from your perfect celestial darling and to the burlesque version of himself, realization dawned and it made him seeth with anger.

𖦁 blasphemous! how dare you! you superseded his spot with this thing?! to betray him was one thing, but to replace him with this cheap copy of himself whom hadn't grown ever slightly intelligent despite wielding his own power?! you little pest! he'll make you pay for this. oh, and, don't worry your pretty little brain! he promises to be much, much more tender than he will be to him, it will be grand, a show that will mark itself in earthbread's history. so won't you be a good little dear and wait till he finishes his one last marionette show before tending to you?

𖦁 and as for the destiny of the silly little thief... ah, he vows to make him taste his own medicine and he'll make certain it will be a fate worse than crumbling away! he wasn't gonna kill him, no, no, death was far too gentle, he was gonna corrupt him, brainwash his mind with sweet, insidious poison, and distort his reality into a glistening hall of mirrors where every reflection was a lie, every whisper a trick of the light. he would unravel, unravel most grotesquely, as his reason frayed like moth-eaten silk, his thoughts dissolving into the same exquisite delirium that had once seized his own skull in its venomous embrace! and most importantly, he was gonna make him feel like what it felt like to be in his place! he stole his soul jam and now you, surely he doesn't think he can get away with that, can't he? no, no, if he wants to take from him so badly, he was gonna make him /him/.

𖦁 but ah, don't be so upset, dear. shouldn't you be exhilarated? he's giving you the attention you craved for, the attention you digged the sand and soils for until your fingers scarred and numbed for, the attention you yearned and sought for like a madman. so, why won't you clap, give your sweet jester an applause for his spectacular show? don't tell him you were still concerned of pure vanilla cookie! he simply put him in the right path, the road down to the deepest depths of hell, of course, but it was still a befitting destination!

𖦁 yet, still, still, you prattled on, fretting that lovely little head of yours over pure vanilla cookie—his name tumbling from your lips like some sacred incantation, a hymn to a god too distant to listen. and oh, how it curdled something deep inside him, how it set his very marrow alight with a fury so exquisite it was almost pleasure. could you not see? he was here. here, before you, in all his resplendent, fevered devotion, and yet you—blind, foolish, maddening thing—spoke of another. oh! perhaps a lesson was in order. yes, yes, that's right, a lesson. a gentle one, at first—he was, after all, a man of remarkable patience. a game, then, a little amusement, something to turn those wandering thoughts back where they belonged. he would not interrupt, no, never that. he would only guide, nudge, mold. and in the end, oh, you would see. you would understand. you would learn.

𖦁 and to say the wait had been merely excellent would be a crime of understatement, a paltry insult to the fevered anticipation that had coiled and uncoiled within him for so long. no, the outcome was a marvel beyond the bounds of mere expectation. you were back, back as you had been, intact, whole—his darling, his own, still in possession of that precious, once-fractured self. giddy with triumph, he would fall against you, arms encircling the exquisite stillness of your form, his dear darling, still and unresponsive—your gaze, those glassy and depthless eyes, did not meet his but stretched past him, unfocused, fixed upon some distant and nameless horizon. there was no flicker of recognition, no gentle return of his embrace. and yet, he clung to you, triumphant, unbothered by your silence, unshaken by your vacancy. you were here. that was more than enough.

a/n: I've received like... so many requests featuring pure vanilla cookie with yandere shadow milk cookie after i made that one post... do you guys want him dead? anyways, i just lost my pity in the guaranteed banner to fucking sherbet cookie. i need frost queen to turn him into snow once again... can someone bless me their mystic flour luck, ill give you my burning spice who is currently 4 stars (f2p)

#new trailer killed me. shadow milk cookie just wants to be understood and hes willing to ruin pv to make that happen.. my little projector #i just know hes fucking cooked when the update releases though #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader

874 notes · View notes

aleskie · 2 months ago

Text

YOU DON'T NEED TO LIFT A FINGER | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When a guy just cannot get the hint, Jack makes sure to put him in his place. He's got your back. Always.

Warnings: none!! pure fluff and jack gets protective!! Full discloure, this is for realsies Fem!Reader!! Author's Note: This was supposed to come out a dayyyyys ago but Tumblr was NOT letting me post my drafts 😭😭 my poor therapist spent an hour watching me crash out about it najsjsshjjk

You were beautiful.

Of course you were.

In Jack’s eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.

Which is why he understands why you get hit on. He really does. Hell, once upon a time, he was hitting on you. And he still hits on you, even now, years into the relationship, because you’re worth it. Because you light up rooms without even trying. Because he’s always been a sucker for the way you roll your eyes and smile at his cheesy attempts to be smooth with you.

You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you’re so effortlessly charming—of course people would want you for themselves. He gets it. He really does. And honestly, there’s a part of him that loves it. He loves that people notice those qualities about you, that they see in you what he sees every day. It feels like validation, like the universe itself is confirming that he’s the luckiest guy alive. He basks in the knowledge that no matter how many people give you those hungry looks and shitty pick-up lines, he’s the one you're coming home with, his hand resting possessively on your hip as he gives all those people a smirk, his claim laid without him even lifting a finger.

What he doesn’t love is when people don’t take the damn hint.

And you give a lot of hints.

Take this guy right here—Dave, or Doug, or whatever his name is—He’d somehow wiggled his way into the booth you guys shared with your friends for a night out and, while he seemed harmless at first, he was now solely focused on you. And your legs that were highlighted by the body shimmer Jack helped put on you earlier tonight (his fingers still slightly shimmering to prove it—a badge of honor, in his opinion).

You’d been giving him that polite, fake smile since he joined in—the one Jack knows so well and that always makes him chuckle, the one you use when you’re being patient but are clearly not enjoying yourself—and you’ve barely paid him any attention, save for a few fake laughs and an “Oh, that sounds cool” every so often as Darren, or Dino, continues to brag about himself, not even trying to ask about you (a grave mistake, Jack thinks, since you were the most interesting person he knew).

Jack wonders if this guy even realizes you’ve been leaning against Jack this entire time, your head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your upper thigh, or if he’s chosen to ignore that in favor of trying (and failing) to shoot his shot. Better yet, does he even recognize Jack is here, drink untouched and jaw tightening as he watches Danny (or was it Dylan) lean in just a little too close?

Jack glances at you. You’re still handling it with grace, of course you are. You always do. But he knows you. He sees the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you lean further against him to put some distance between you and Dexter, the way your fingers tighten around your glass, and he knows you’d rather not have to deal with this.

He shifts slightly and stands, leaning forward to smile at the intruder, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Diego, right?” he says. His tone is casual, even pleasant, but there’s steel underneath it.

“It’s Dave, actua—”

Jack extends a hand, cutting through the guy’s attempt at small talk. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but I think my girlfriend and I are gonna go dance now.”

He puts an emphasis on girlfriend, just to make sure this guy gets the point.

Jack gives you a soft look, the kind that makes your breath hitch just a little, and you immediately stand up, reaching for him. His arm wraps around you instinctively, his touch steady and familiar. You can already feel the tension in his body lessening now that he has you close, now that he’s leading you away from whatever-his-name-is and back into the safe, easy rhythm of you and him.

But before you can leave, the guy speaks again.

“Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours. You know how women are. With that dress and those legs, she was totally leading me on.”

Jack freezes.

For a second, the world seems to pause, almost like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he didn’t want to believe anyone could be that stupid.

Slowly, he straightens, turning back toward the guy—Dave or Doug or whatever his name was—with a look so calm it’s almost serene. Too calm. And that’s how you know Jack is angry.

Not the playful kind of angry, where he pretends to pout when you steal the last fry or kiss him everywhere but his lips. Not the frustrated kind, like when he can’t find his keys for the third time that week or when he’s had a particularly bad game.

No, this is something deeper. Colder. Controlled.

His fingers graze your arm lightly, a small, grounding touch meant just for you. It’s subtle, but you know what it means. I’ve got this. You don’t need to lift a finger.

Jack tilts his head ever so slightly. “You wanna say that again?” His voice is so even it borders on soft, a quiet thing wrapped in steel.

Dave—or Dino or Darryl—seems to think Jack is inviting him to elaborate, which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made all night.

“I’m just saying, y’know,” Dave shrugs, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, like he thinks Jack might actually agree with him if he just explains it better. “When women dress like that, you can’t blame a guy for—”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut up before I do something we both regret.”

Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his words alone is enough to send a ripple of silence through the space between them.

Dave blinks, the beginning stages of intimidation creeping onto his face. He glances at you, as if expecting backup, but you’re already leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as you watch Jack dismantle him.

There’s a small smirk on your lips. Because this? This was a sight you didn’t get to see in public too often.

Many times, people assumed your lovely boyfriend—so easygoing, so effortlessly charming—would lack the sharpness to cut someone down when needed, would stick to uhmms and ahhhs and crassness.

They mistook his laid-back nature for passivity, his warmth for softness. But you knew better. Your Jack could be quite a wonder with words when he wanted to be. He didn’t need to be loud to command attention. He didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

So you hang back and let him handle this one, finding comfort in the thought of his arms around you later, his breath warm against your ear as you danced the rest of the night away.

“Listen, buddy,” Jack continues, stepping closer. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it. “You don’t talk to anyone like that. You definitely don’t get to talk to her like that. You hear me?”

“God, c’mon, man! No need to get all—”

“I already told you to shut up.” Jack’s scowl deepens. His words are slow, deliberate. “The fact that she was polite enough to give you the slightest bit of attention doesn’t mean she was hitting on you. Whatever you thought was going on tonight? Not an invitation.”

Dave—Dino? Derek?—opens his mouth, probably to dig himself into an even deeper hole, but stops when Jack leans in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier. Like a storm cloud about to break.

“She’s kind,” Jack says, voice quieter now, deadlier. “So she tolerated you. But she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.”

The last of Dave’s bravado starts to crumble. His shoulders inch inward, his gaze flickering around the booth, searching for an exit, for reinforcements—for anything that might save him from this moment.

Jack watches him for a second longer, then exhales sharply, like he’s already bored. “You think being desperate and cocky gets you the girl,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t need any of that to keep her by my side.” His fingers brush against yours, finding their place like they always do. “And we don’t need to waste any more time entertaining douchebags like you.”

Jack steps back, his hand sliding fully into yours as he finally tears his gaze from Daniel? Don?—who cares?—and looks at you instead. The shift is immediate, his features easing, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something familiar. Something yours.

“Let’s go, babe,” he says simply, his voice lighter now, more like himself.

And just like that, the moment is over.

As you stand, letting Jack guide you away from the booth, you hear Dave mutter something under his breath—something weak and defensive that doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. It’s the kind of parting shot people throw out when they know they’ve lost. Neither of you glance back.

The music swells around you, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, but Jack doesn’t lead you straight to the dance floor. Instead, he pulls you toward a quieter corner, away from the crowd, where the lights are dimmer, the world a little smaller.

He exhales, then wordlessly nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp. He sighs at the touch, his arms slipping around your waist as he lets himself melt into you for just a moment. You press a soft kiss to his hair, breathing him in, grounding both of you in something steady, something real.

After a beat, he tilts his head up, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. “Did I go overboard?”

You roll your eyes fondly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely perfect,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His grin widens, boyish and bright, and just like that, the weight of the night lifts. He tugs you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he starts to sway you to the music. You laugh as he spins you unexpectedly, sneaking in kisses between the DJ’s transitions, his lips catching your temple, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

The man who bothered you is forgotten. The tension, the sharp edges of the night—gone.

All that’s left is this. You and him and the music. The warmth of his hands on you, the sound of your laughter melting together, the rest of the world fading into nothing.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes #jh86 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #nhl x reader #✩ allie's writing ✩

811 notes · View notes

paymechildsupport · 3 months ago

Text

Thinking about Sukuna and Deity!Reader

— ┉┈◈◉◈┈┉—

The first he ever heard of you was on one of his rampages. The scent of blood hung heavily in the air, along with the stench of burning flesh. The entire village a burning, raging inferno to the heavens. The last of the screams had burnt to the ground along with the city, and all that was left was an ugly scorch, a scar upon the earth. Sukuna towered above one remaining survivor, one quaking man paralyzed in fear. He lay weeping on the ground, blood caking his clothes and face. He prayed to the gods above, to Sukuna, to anyone who would listen. It was a very familiar ritual to Sukuna, and he had no qualms about splitting the man’s head in two. His pleas for mercy only grated upon his nerves.

And then something the man said gave him pause. A name, one he had never heard before. In his blood-hungry rampages Sukuna had heard prayers screamed to every god in the sky earth and sea, and yet he had never heard of this name before. The man uttered it again and again, mumbling it like a mantra. Surprisingly, Sukuna found himself not wanting him to stop. The name was something nice, something warm to his ears, even if it was from the shredded throat of a dead man.

“Who is this you speak of?” Sukuna demanded,- but the man gave no answer, only repeating the name again and again, “Who do you pray to?” Sukuna stipulated, growing irritated now as the man continued to ignore him.

One cleave and the man’s head toppled to the ground. Sukuna scoffed, curse him and whatever foolish deity he devoted himself to.

Some god, he thought, who was just the same as any divine being: wholly indifferent to the pleas of mortals. Sukuna found himself slightly frustrated as he left the burning inferno. Although plenty of blood was spilt, he felt… unsatisfied. The fact he did not know of whoever the man had prayed irritated him more than he’d like to admit. He hesitated at first, but eventually tried saying the name himself.

He was surprised by how much he liked it, how nicely his lips fit around each sound, how the weight felt on his tongue, the way he could almost taste it. It was an odd, foreign sensation, albeit not unwelcome.

Sukuna shakes his head, frustrated at something so trivial and simple as a name bothered him so greatly. He moved to walk ahead, but something suddenly stopped him.

He stared dumbfounded at the figure on the path in front of him. He could’ve sworn he had killed every last mortal in the village. But no, this wasn’t a mortal, Sukuna could instantly tell upon a second glance. Nothing about the being in front of him was even remotely ‘mortal’.

The way the figure carried itself, from the imprints- or lack thereof- that their feet should’ve made in the ground, from the way they almost seemed to glow against the smoky night sky. Everything about whoever this was screamed ethereal

They looked to the embers, the last remains of the village behind Sukuna, and almost seemed to sigh softly,

“It appears my timing is still a bit off” and their voice,— Sukuna had heard many beautiful things in his time, from the finest music to the softest chirp of a bird, but the words that left the figure’s lips had to be the sweetest blessing his ears had ever been graced with, “Unless,” they add, “you were the one to summon me”

Without even needing to think about it, Sukuna uttered the name,— it tumbled from his lips before he could even stop himself,- but something about it just seemed right

You tilted your head, smiling when he says your name, and Sukuna felt that for once in his sinful, accursed life that he had been lucky, lucky to ever have the privilege to witness such a divine and wonderful thing

Never once had Sukuna ever witnessed a god answer a prayer. In the thousands he had slaughtered, out of the hundreds upon thousands of pleas had heard being tossed up to the heavens, never once had he ever seen one answered. He found it a bit ironic, how you ceased to answer to the dying’s mantra of your name over and over again, yet were summoned the second he muttered your name. But Sukuna found he’d rather prefer it no other way.

”Was there someone else here?” You asked, seemingly searching around for whoever had called your name

“no,” Sukuna replies casually, if not a little smugly, smirking perhaps just a wee bit too much, “just me”

He watched you shrug nonchalantly, “oh well, I’ll catch them some other day”— as if this was some casual everyday occurrence for you.

As you turned around Sukuna can’t help but notice how much the absence of your gaze bothers him. Now that he had been bestowed with your attention, he suddenly had no desire to give it up

He can’t help but notice the lack of disgust in your eyes, the look of disdain for such lowly curse scum noticeably absent from your face - and for the first time Sukuna doesn’t feel like the almighty King of Curses- he doesn’t even feel like a curse. In your presence he just simply was. Perhaps the disarming feeling should have alarmed him, perhaps being stripped of his power and crushing presence should have scared him, but he just didn’t care. He oddly didn’t feel powerless at all. The paradox of feelings was all so foreign and new to Sukuna, and it wasn’t something he really wanted to give up right now.

But there was nothing he could do to stop you from leaving. And yet he somehow liked that fact too. He held no power over you, and he liked the sudden shift in power dynamic

“Feel free to summon me anytime” you waved back over your shoulder, “not like I have anything else better to do”

That got his attention. Really? Call you anytime, and you’d answer?

“Alright” he grunted in response, and he found himself believing you.

The grin you offered before turning around and suddenly disappearing had Sukuna almost collapse to his knees and start praying himself.

Sukuna turns around and faces what was left of the village. Charred remains and burnt wood. And, in a split second decision, began walking back towards it

He decided he wanted to build a shrine.

—————┉┈◈◉◈┈

[A/N] ohhhh he’d build so many shrines and dedicate so many poems to you and just think about the sacrifices - the atrocities -he’d make in your name… im so normal about this 🙏 m’most likely to do this with a male reader in the future, but if someone requests otherwise m more than happy to write for fem or nb as well

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk x y/n #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader

606 notes · View notes

dollsltt · 4 months ago

Text

MAMA, A BIRD BEHIND YOU.

⠀⠀ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀ ⠀⠀angel!reader x dean winchester

sum. just angel!reader having a staring problem, and perturbing dean’s sleep with it.

includes. fluff, pet names (duck, duckling, sweetheart), it’s my first drabble have mercy, english is not my first language.

Dean jolted awake, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him so much —a nightmare, maybe, or that weird squeaking sound the bunker floor made from time to time— but something felt... off. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the drowsiness and blurriness in his eyes. Then he saw you.

You. Fuckin' duck. He thought.

You were standing perfectly still in the corner of the room, your hands clasped together in front of you, staring deeply at Dean.

"What the fuck-" Dean wanted to yell at you, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it. It was maybe the fifth time this week you'd taken it upon yourself to wake him or Sam with your eerie, silent presence. "Duckling, what are you doing here?" he asked as he sat up in bed.

You stared at him for another few seconds, blinking slowly. "You were asleep."

"Yes, I know. It's what people do at night." He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of the situation, and maybe trying to talk some sense into you. "Why are you always just... standing there? Watching me like a damn freak?"

You tilted your head slightly, as though considering your words. "You looked peaceful."

Dean froze, caught between a sense of confusion and sheer disbelief. "You woke me up because I looked peaceful?"

"No," you corrected, your voice as calm as ever. "You woke up on your own. I was merely observing."

"Observing what, exactly?"

For brief moments, you hesitated. Your expression was hard to read, since you just kept staring at him, but that question seemed to have made you think.

"Humans are... fragile. They take on too much. They carry the weight of their sins even unconsciously. I was ensuring that you remained unharmed."

Dean stayed just like you for a few seconds; still and staring, blinking slowly as if the gears in his brain were being dusted off. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words.

"So you were angelically babysitting me?" he said, confused. How was he supposed to take that? Sure, it was... Cute, in a way. His chest tightened fondly at the thought of how much you cared for him, even if you showed it in such a weird way.

But still, it was fucking terrifying to be jumpscared by two shiny eyes staring at his soul in the middle of the night.

"Yes." you said, matter-of-factly, a tiny smile gracing your face, which only made Dean feel his chest tighten even more.

"Listen, sweetheart– I don't mind you watching me sleep, okay? Even if you look like a freak, I don't mind, but you should try to kick that habit. It's not very... uh, how do I say it? Human." Dean tried to explain it as simply as possible, but it was hard when you were looking at him with those big eyes, all wide and paying as much attention as if he were an exotic animal. "You scared five lifetimes out of me standing in that corner like an extra in horror movie. I'm just saying, others might react worse than me."

You blinked and looked down at your hands. "I didn't intend to frighten you. I'm simply drawn to your existence." You said softly. "If you would rather, I may go."

Dean shouldn't feel bad, but he did. It was like scolding a puppy for chewing on a shoe. He knew you were getting used to the Earth and how humans coexisted with each other, it wasn't entirely your fault you were a social misfit.

"Stay if you want," Dean flopped back onto his pillow with a groan, covering his face with his upper arm. "But I'd recommend you try doing other things while Sam and I asleep, believe me, anything is better than watching two idiots snore." He yawned.

Dean peeked out from behind his arm to watch you move toward the door, though you threw one last glance over your shoulder.

You hesitate, moving your lips as if you want to say something else. Finally, you nod. "Very well. Sleep well, Dean." Your gaze lingered for a moment, soft and curious, before vanishing down the hallway.

As soon as you left, Dean exhaled noisily. "Angels," he muttered, covering his head with the blanket. "Fucking weirdos."

a/n: hii hiii hello this is my first drabble, hope y’all like it :) i’m doing sam’s version soon cuz my boy deserves to be disturbed by the angel too

#🦢݁ kei’s writes!#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #spn one shot

876 notes · View notes

hurthermore · 1 year ago

Text

»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

Summary: 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜?

Word Count: 𝟸.𝟼𝚔

Warnings: 𝙸 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚖; 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚕 >.<

𝙵/𝙼 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚌𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜, 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚟 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎)

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

You had only been there for a damn week.

A week.

Yet you had somehow flourished emotions within the Radio Demon that he had never even slightly experienced before.

The worst part?

You were what the younger generation called a ‘Bimbo Bitch’.

It didn’t make sense to Alastor as to why you out of everyone alive - and dead - made him feel like a pathetic idiot with a crush. Throughout his life on earth he had hundreds of women at his beck and call, fawning over him due to his celebrity status as one of America's biggest southern radio hosts in the late 1920s. Even in death, dozens upon dozens of women had expressed interest in him, even some of the most elegant of sinners had pursued him, yet he always lacked the interest in the act of courting. Still, he knew there would be a day when he would find the woman of his dreams.

So when he realised that the woman of his dreams was you, he felt disoriented, questioning everything he had come to know. The most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on; the woman who made him desire things he had never yearned for before, was you; a woman who lacked vocal sophistication and wore tight, revealing clothes that could rival half the garments the spider-like porn actor wore.

But despite how pissed off he wanted to be about it, how much he wanted to hate you for bringing these emotions out of him, he just couldn’t force himself to feel any disdain for you. Especially when you’d call for him in that whiny tone that sent pleasant shivers down his spine, the same one that made him want to thrust your face into a mattress as he bred you.

He remembered when you first came into the hotel. He genuinely thought you arrived in your underwear, only for him to find out what crop tops and booty shorts were.

He was appalled to say the least.

But it didn't stop him from appreciating your figure whenever you graced him with your presence.

And yet again he found you, wearing a skimpy little outfit of a crop top and one of those silly little skirts of yours, all whilst sitting sideways on his chair in the lobby of the hotel. Your knees pressed up against your breasts; squishing them so hard that the fat of your chest was begging to pop out of the flimsy revealing top as you reached towards your pointed feet with a small brush.

It was difficult for Alastor to repress the groan that begged to leave his throat as his eyes peeked a glance at your underwear; red. Red and skimpy. He could feel himself throb just by looking at you. “Good evening my darling!” He decided to appear from the shadows behind his chair you were situated on before leaning over it to admire you inspect what you were doing. “What are you doing, my dear?” He asked you with a delighted tone that he found himself reserving purely for you.

He watched you pause as you heard his voice, redirecting your attention on him as you rested your legs back onto the arm chair, giving your chest some air to breathe. “Hey Al!” You beamed with a sharp toothed grin that made Alastors undead heart skip a beat. “I’m painting my nails, you want me to do your claws? I have like ten different colours! OH! We should so paint yours pink! You’d look so good!”

He chuckled at the idea of him with pink nails; preposterous. He was the Radio Demon, an entity that devoured anyone who crossed him, a being who broadcasted the screams of thousands of souls to millions of listeners all because he enjoyed it; and here was you; a pretty little dame asking him if you could paint his claws… Pink.

“Apologies my darling but that is an activity I prefer not to partake in.” His toothed smile twitched as your face slowly contorted into one of disappointment.

It definitely didn't make him feel guilty.

“C’mon Al! If you really don’t want pink I guess I could do them black or white to match your theme? Pretty please?” You pouted, allowing your lips to puff out as your eyes looked skyward to meet his gaze. Alastor’s smile twitched as he felt a heat rise within his lower abdomen from looking at your perfect form. You must be aware on some level what you were doing to him. Right?

Despite the Radio Demon hating the idea of having his claws painted, the idea of disappointing you; the act of refusing you to touch him as you caressed his hands and claws was something he found he hated more.

So he gave in.

“I will permit you to paint my claws my darling, but you are to do it in red and you will not relay this event to anyone else. Do you understand?” His face closed in on yours to the point where you couldn’t see anything but him.

Your eyes glanced down to his hands that rested atop his cane, your eyebrows contorting into confusion. “But… Your claws are already red?”

Alastor’s smile twitched ever so slightly, to the point where you didn’t even notice.

He had hoped you wouldn’t of noticed.

“Then I will permit you to paint them black, ma chérie.” Immediately you stood up, revealing your smaller structure compared to the seven foot frame the Radio Demon possessed. You grabbed his hands - much to his delight - and he allowed you to drag him over to the opposite side of the chair, guiding him to sit on it. He obliged, allowing you to dictate every move; something he had never permitted anyone else in his entire existence.

Momentarily he closed his red eyes, basking in the warmth your hands emitted into his cold skin, only for him to startle them open when you sat on his lap. His eyes met yours as you smiled smugly, waving the black nail polish in his face.

It wasn’t what he was expecting, to have your soft body flush against his; your clothed core meeting his own, making him melt from the contact. But he was assured that he could live the rest of his existence happy and content if it meant having you slotted in his lap forever.

“Okay, gimme your hand.” You beamed as you offered your delicate palm to him, waiting for him to concede his hand to you. Hesitantly, he obliged, snaking his fingers against yours, allowing you to grip your soft hand around one of his fingers as you began painting his sharp tipped claws.

As you recoated your brush before tending back to his claws, Alastor felt your core brush against his, making him bite back a moan, keening in a way that had him wishing you’d do it again. Slowly, he outstretched his unoccupied hand towards the curve of your waist as he felt himself harden underneath you.

Although usually a collected and composed man, Alastor was struggling. You had barely begun working on his second claw before his hand finally made contact with your bare waist, making you jump ever so slightly at the contact, accidentally grinding yourself against his now hard member.

Alastor groaned as you stilled against him. He refused to look at you, he wasn’t ready to see what type of expression adorned your face. Would you be repulsed? Or would you be as aroused as him? “Alastor..?” He heard you mumble; your voice sounding slightly erotic. Would you reciprocate his feelings? Slowly, he rested his head in the comfort of your chest, sighing as he could feel the fast beating of your heart before tightening his grip on you. He couldn’t control himself; not when you fit so perfectly in his lap, not when you were making him feel so stimulated just by moving against his constrained cock. “Fuck, Alastor-” You moaned as he forced you to grind against him as he placed his other hand against the fat of your hips; his claws still wet from the polish.

“Such a naughty girl.” He groaned as he leaned back away from your chest, viewing the debauched expression that etched your face, biting your bottom lip as your eyes half lidded. “I was hoping to court you first, but you’re making this so hard.” He mumbled, slamming you further into his clothed throbbing cock, causing the texture of his trousers to rub against your clit.

Suddenly, he gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips connected with yours. He could hear you panting as you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore the tastes your mouth had to offer him. He felt like he could attain heaven as you showed your want of him. The closest he’d ever get to the place.

As he kissed you, the need to hear you moan had him grinding into you harder, trying to elicit more of those sounds from you. But when you didn’t, he gripped the front of your throat, punctuating his claws into your skin, forcing you to bend backwards as a black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist, preventing you from falling off of Alastor’s lap. He groaned as he watched your skirt ride up your thighs, revealing your drenched red lingerie to him.

Without thought, he ripped the red fabric in two, growling as your cunt glistened before him. Both of his hands pierced into the chunk of your thighs, causing you to whimper as he dragged your sex into his face. The position forced your posture upside down, making all the blood rush to your head as Alastor finally smashed his face into your puffy cunt, penetrating his fat tongue inside you. You moans vibrated off the walls of the parlour room, and you had completely forgotten where you were and what you were doing before this as Alastor’s mouth seemed to cover the entirety of your sex. His tongue thrusting in and out of you whilst the top of his mouth simulated a suction like sensation, stimulating your clit in the process.

His ears twitched with every moan, every cry of his name that left your wet lips, and every squelch that your cunt produced. He never thought this could taste so good. He had eaten many people throughout his life, being a cannibal and all, but not once had he eaten someone in such a way, and he couldn’t deny that this was his new favourite dish; the juices of your cunt.

As your legs began to press against the sides of his head, he could feel the tremors that passed through your plumped thighs, and with how your moans kept increasing in volume, it was obvious to Alastor you were nearing orgasm. It had him feeling heated; your whole lower half crushing his head, almost preventing him from breathing as he ate you out. But oh did he find it incredibly erotic. He couldn’t prevent the build up of his own orgasm as he kept drinking the essence of your cunt.

Once he heard you basically scream in pleasure, your sex convulsing around his tongue, and your clit throbbing against his teeth, he allowed himself to ejaculate within the confines of his pants, his cock pulsed with every splat that left his tip. He moaned into you, overstimulating you in the process. You tried to pull away, tried to tell Alastor it was too much, but he kept you against his mouth, continuing his ministrations as he rode through his own orgasm.

“I swear I heard screamin’ Charlie.” You and Alastor both froze as you both heard Angel’s voice in the distance. Panicking, you tried to tear yourself from Alastor and the tentacle wrapped around your torso with more force; but he didn’t let you move. You silently screamed his name through your teeth, anxiety building up as you dreaded the thought of someone catching you with the Radio Demon of all people.

Abruptly, you felt Alastor retract from you as your back hit against silked covers. Confused, you took in your surroundings, your anxiety vanishing as you realised you were in a different room from the parlour. But it was a room you didn’t recognise.

“Such a silly girl.” Alastor spoke up, still in between your legs as his fingers stroked the skin of your thighs, his eyes connecting with yours. “Did you honestly believe I’d let anyone else witness you in such a state?” He watched you whine as you took in his now undressed form; allowing you to witness all the stitching that wrapped around his body, his small tufts of fur that lavished his chest, and his free cock that was covered in cum and was too heavy to point upwards.

You couldn’t prevent the moan that left your lips as you concluded that he had cummed from eating you out.

“No,” He grunted as he pulled your thighs apart before pulling your body down toward him. “This is for my eyes, and my eyes alone.” Pushing his phallic organ against your folds, you gasped as Alastor continued. “You may parade around in such ridiculous little clothing, but this,” His fingers wrapped around your neck. “Is mine.” As he finished, he finally forced his thick and heavy cock in the warm and wet walls of your cunt. “Fuck.” Alastor hissed. He never thought sex would feel so consuming, so fulfilling, so pleasurable.

The pressure of his fingers against your throat began to consolidate as he fucked his fat cock into you, almost preventing you from breathing. Although Alastor wasn’t an experienced man in sex, he was experienced in the resilience of the throat; he knew exactly how much pressure he needed to apply before it restricted oxygen from entering. And oh how did that do things to you.

As he continued to ram himself into you, he lifted your upper half to him, bringing your face to his, allowing his lips to graze yours. “Give me your soul, darling.” He grunted before initiating a kiss. “Give yourself to me and I’ll give you the seven rings of hell if you please it.”

You felt the throbbing of your sex begin again as he fucked into you, promising you basically anything you desired as long as you gave your eternal existence to him. The want to be possessed by this man was enveloping you entirely. You didn’t even hesitate before you cried out a passage of yeses. A sharp glow of green screeched throughout the room along with a high pitched shriek as Alastor groaned into your mouth. You could feel stitches that adorned his mouth for barely a second grazing the skin of your lips as he pushed his face into yours; his pace becoming aggressively harder.

You jolted with every thrust, allowing yourself to cry out as another orgasm was ripped from you, twice as intense as the one you had barely moments ago when it was his tongue inside you and not his cock. As you whined and cried throughout your euphoric feeling, you began to become limp. Alastor only held you tighter, refusing your warmth to leave his cold dead skin as he began to thrust into you as if you were his precious little fuck toy.

If this deal guaranteed that he would fuck you like this on a regular basis, you weren’t going to complain; especially when he was the best fuck you had ever had the satisfaction of experiencing. Instead of treating you as a form of self pleasure, he seemed to only derive his pleasure from yours. Like he got off on you feeling good.

It only confirmed your thoughts as you felt his cock pulsing inside you; splattering his cum further into you after you came down from your own high.

How the fuck did you end up in this predicament again? You only wanted to paint his damn claws.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader smut #smut #alastor #hazbin alastor #reader insert #x reader

2K notes · View notes

mingtinys · 1 year ago

Text

" i am so proud of you "

pairing : hansol chwe x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : got a little carried away with this one , something about writing for vernon is just so fun

"I was thinking, why don't we go out tomorrow to that restaurant you really like? To celebrate and all."

"I'd really like that." You call back, glancing over at your boyfriend who is still busy washing dishes at the kitchen sink. Though he isn't looking directly at you, you can just make out the excited look in his eyes and the toothy grin gracing his lips. He's been like that since you told him about your promotion at work. Honestly, you didn't expect him to make such a fuss over it. It was a relatively small promotion, just a raise and a slightly higher title. But that sunny expression on his face could make someone think you'd hit CEO status.

"I'll make reservations after I finish up here." His words are barely audible over the running water. You're about to thank him when your phone buzzes to life beside you.

Incoming call from Boo Seungkwan.

Seungkwan? You think, narrowing your eyes at the screen. Why on earth could he be calling you and not Hansol?

"Hello?"

"Y/N!" His excited voice comes through the speaker. "You're not busy right?"

"Not really, no. Why, what's up?"

"I— well we all wanted to call and congratulate you on your promotion!" A chorus of voices flood your phone and you take it you're on speaker with the rest of the members.

"That's very sweet of you all, thank you." It's nice, having so many people in your corner cheering you on. "But how'd you know? I only just found out about it a couple hours ago."

"You're joking right?" It sounds like Chan. "Hansol won't shut up about it in the group chat."

"He talks about me?" You ask no one in particular

"Yeah, like an annoying amount." That's definitely Mingyu.

There's a short altercation on the other side of the call, probably Seungkwan trying to wrestle his phone back from various members. But you don't pay much mind, the warm feeling in your chest taking over all other senses. You let your gaze drift back to Hansol, who is now on his laptop, nodding along to whatever song is currently playing in his head.

"Just, give it here—! Sorry about that," Seungkwan's voice jolts you from a daze. "Anyways, we just wanted to give you our compliments. We'll let you get back to your night."

Good, because tears are already welling up at your lashes and you're not sure how much longer you can hold back the stitch in your throat. "I appreciate it, tell everyone I said thank you."

You hang up before Seungkwan can respond and promptly make your way to the kitchen. Hansol's nose is still buried in his laptop, eyes squinted as his fingers peck at the keys. "Okay," He says upon the realization of your presence. He hits the enter key rather dramatically. "Reservations are made and you're . . ." His words teeter off when he looks up, met with your tear-filled gaze.

He takes a beat. Brows furrowed and head cocked to the side. "–You're crying. Shit, wait— why are you crying?" Hansol panics. He rushes to you, taking your face between his warm hands. Holding you the way one would hold fine China. Carefully, his thumb comes to swipe a stray tear from your cheek.

"You tell your members about me?" You sniffle. Hansol's eyes go wide and his mouth opens and closes like a fish before he conjures up an answer. "Was I not supposed to?"

The pure concerned cluelessness in his voice makes you giggle and he seems to relax when he realizes he's not in trouble. "I just didn't know you bragged about me like that, it's sweet."

"I am so proud of you," Hansol speaks with unashamed sincerity. "Why wouldn't I brag about your accomplishments?"

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

1K notes · View notes

hopesangelsprite · 8 months ago

Text

The Summoning

Pairing: Vampire!Illumi x Reader

Summary: Being immortal can grow very old, very quickly and Illumi's found that out the hard way. The only reasonable solution would be to find a suitable playmate, right?

Warnings: mentions of blood/death/murder, biting, size/strength difference, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, dacryphilia, breeding kink, degradation, female ejaculation, manipulation (vampire compulsion)

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

Viewer discretion is advised.

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cast me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

Illumi watched with half-lidded eyes as his servants removed a corpse from his feet, nothing left of the younger male but an empty, soulless husk. How many had he gone through now? 30? 300? Whatever the death toll was, it didn't matter. Illumi no longer cared for numbers, the sheer quantity of his years on earth drawing him to the conclusion that they were overrated.

"Bring me the next one.", he ordered while leaning further into the large throne chair he'd taken residence in, "If this one doesn't satisfy me, I'll be draining one of you in their place.". Illumi let threat roll off his blood-stained lips easily, keen on fulfilling it should he be presented another weakling.

There was a brief silence before the doors to his quarters opened, your figure edging closer uncertainly. The closer you got, the better he was able to analyze you. Unlike his previous victims, there were no tears in your eyes or trembling in your limbs. Though you eyed him warily, he sensed you were more curious than afraid. You were quite attractive, as well; with smooth curves just barely concealed by what was left of a skirt and halter top. As you finally got within arm's reach of him, you sank to your knees with fluttering lashes.

Illumi's cock twitched at the sight, the position giving him a perfect view of your tits and exposed thighs. "Do you know why you're here, pretty thing?", he inquired whilst making a mental note of just how fragile you were in comparison to him. To any mortal man, you'd be considered healthy, maybe even too much so for those on the weaker end of the male spectrum. To Illumi, however, you were nothing but a doll, a plaything he could bend and contort to his undead heart's content.

"I was running from my old life... I was promised shelter.", you answered after a moment and Illumi chuckled. He leaned forward, crimson tongue flicking over glinting fangs, and grasped your face with a large, ring-laden hand. "There's no safety for you here, little doll, only death or imprisonment.", he drawled out, keen eyes catching the way your thighs pressed together at his touch. With one hand, you removed his hand from your face, head turning to place a kiss on his palm. The other you placed on his dark denim-clad thigh, fingers tracing patterns into the coarse material. "Then I should aim to please, no?", you inquired as your hand crept closer to his belt.

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

A smirk graced Illumi's lips at your insinuation, lust deepening within him as you carefully undid his belt's clasp. So, he leaned back, dark eyes watching you like a predator behind inky tresses. He pushed his hips forward to allow you better access to him, reveling in the tiny gasp you let out upon freeing his cock. His skin was milky, fading into a pretty pink closer to his weeping tip; a few veins adorned his shaft, a little longer than he was thick. Your mouth watered at the sight, core moistening as you took him into your hands.

Illumi groaned at the softness of your skin against his, catching his bottom lip between a fang as you gave him a few experimental strokes. You shuffled closer, knees no doubt bruising from the floor's harsh surface. You placed your chin on his knees, inquiring eyes boring into his as you swiped a thumb over his leaky slit; you were seeking permission, how wonderfully submissive of you. "Go on then, have a taste.", he permitted with a lazy nod.

His breath caught in his throat as your warm, plush lips enveloped his cockhead, your tongue following shortly afterward. You kissed him wetly, the taste of precum unfamiliar yet welcomed. You took him into your mouth once more, this time sucking him as far back into your throat as you could. A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through Illumi's chest as he watched you begin to come up for air, a blood-stained hand tangling itself into your hair to stop your rising and push you down further. "Now, now. Don't underestimate yourself, darling, you can take a little bit more.", he mewled over the sound of your gagging, "Can't you?".

Illumi finally let you up after a few moments, cooing at the sight of tear-streaked mascara kissing your cheeks. Still, your eyes only held a strange look of awe and adoration; one that Illumi found himself mirroring as you continued to suck him off ever so sweetly. Illumi hissed as he pulled you off his cock, leaning down to catch your lips with his. He deepened the kiss as he guided you from the floor onto his lap, the taste of his arousal on your tongue only making him harder.

As Illumi broke the kiss, lips dipping to nip at your neck while his hands slipped underneath your skirt, a low curse escaped him as his fingers met your bare, soaked core. He found his sanity waning. "Nothing underneath?", he hummed as he brought your face close to his, "What a pretty little slut you are.". He locked eyes with you, eye contact unwavering as he pushed two long fingers past your entrance and began searching for that soft, spongy spot he knew would have you singing praises.

You whimpered upon the intrusion, thighs quaking as he began scissoring you open. Illumi took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, enjoying your breathy moans and the noises coming from your sopping cunt. "Feels good, doesn't it.", he chuckled as your hips began rutting against his palm, "I think we both know what'll feel much better, though.".

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

Before you could reach your high, Illumi pulled his fingers from your cunt. Without a second of hesitation, he shoved those same fingers into your throat as he pulled you down onto his cock, allowing very little protest as your pelvises met abruptly. More tears welled behind your lash line as you adjusted to the stretch of him overfilling your pussy, tip nuzzled snuggly against your cervix and g-spot. "Filthy fucking whore.", he spat as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and began manhandling you up the expanse of his shaft, "My filthy fucking whore.".

You cried out in pleasure as he pulled you back down, setting a quick and unforgiving rhythm. Illumi watched your tits bounce beneath the fabric of your top ruefully as he continued to use you like a doll. He growled as he tugged at its neckline, hips bucking up into you as it freed your breasts with a loud rip. You shivered as Illumi leaned forward to take one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging at it before swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. He continued his ministrations, switching between left and right, with a single hand keeping a bruising grip on your hip while the other busied itself by rolling your clit between its thumb and index finger.

Illumi felt your soft walls flutter around him and he groaned into your skin, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. He released your tit with a loud pop, hips pistoning his cock into you faster as he licked a stripe up your chest and neck. It didn't take him long to find your pulse, suckling over the skin while imagining just how sweet you'd taste. Soon, his cock was throbbing in perfect time with your moans, his high growing closer and closer the more you called out his name and begged him to slow down. Instead, he removed himself from your neck, pulling your forehead against his to lock eyes with you.

The air between and around you quickly grew tense, a steady thrum of energy bringing you closer to your high as Illumi's dark eyes melted into a bloody, crimson shade. "Cum for me.", he moaned into your mouth, head dipping to pierce your skin with his fangs. Without warning, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, curses and pleas tumbling from your lips as the stinging pain of being bitten melded into overwhelming pleasure. Your mind grew numb as you came, your arousal spraying over Illumi's lap as he drank you in. And you let him, body trembling and unable to come down from the violent high he'd brought upon you.

You've got my body, flesh, and bone

The sky above, the earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

Illumi released your neck after a long moment, tongue lapping up a few stray beads of blood as he pulled your hips flush against his and filled you with his seed. Another tremor crept down your spine at the sudden hot, sticky substance filling your womb, Illumi whispering sweet nothings and pretty vows into your ear to coax you out of the trance he'd locked you in. You blinked once, then twice, to clear the white spots and tears from your vision.

"There you are, little one.~", he purred before placing a kiss on the now bruising bite mark he'd given you, "Was afraid I lost you for a second.". All you could do was whimper, slumping forward to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder. Your scent faintly mingled with sex and iron filled his nostrils, tempting him to finish draining and breeding you. He let you rest, though, leaning back into the chair with his cock still plugging you full as he, too, drifted into sleep for the first time in centuries.

Besides, the venom and cum in your system would need time to take effectively.

632 notes · View notes