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desireangel · 3 months ago

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Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach.

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always.

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger.

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job.

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand.

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all.

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another.

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly.

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough.

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know.

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read.

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that.

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you.

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you.

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking.

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there.

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch.

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose.

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw.

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy.

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine.

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince.

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him.

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage.

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing.

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue.

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin.

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.”

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did.

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you.

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt.

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago.

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm.

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that.

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide.

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance.

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression.

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless.

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice.

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption.

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong.

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger.

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all.

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there.

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat.

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist.

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating.

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned.

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived.

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it.

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.”

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome.

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you.

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut.

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced.

Footsteps. Again.

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck.

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was.

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard. Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers.

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you.

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing.

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head.

Gods, you had never known anything like it.

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist.

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery.

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him.

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in?

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.

Like things were going exactly how he had planned.

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much.

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear.

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn.

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along?

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s?

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.

He wanted you to see.

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place.

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day.

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman.

There was none. Not a single strand of hair.

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him.

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava.

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing.

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat.

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw.

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time.

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck.

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach.

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.”

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs.

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips.

Lavender, leather and him.

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view.

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable. “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh.

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him.

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter.

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.”

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?”

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap.

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure.

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter.

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.”

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan.

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad.

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor.

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline.

“You would not dare,” he all but growled.

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?”

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile.

723 notes · View notes

prince-jjae · 2 months ago

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heh, so for kinktober or just a regular fic atp. Can u do toxic relationship w/ yeonjun. Like reader and yeonjun are in a situationship and yeonjun says that him and reader can’t have any strings attached if they’re just gonna have sex. But like reader rlly doesn’t care so they just keep having one night stands with random people at the club. And one day, yeonjun catches her and gets jealous and BOOM raw sex. But then angst bc reader says he doesn’t love her so they’re free to hit on whoever they want. So they argue and reader never sees yeonjun again. BUT LIKE IF U DON’T WANNA MAKE THIS ANGST THEN U CAN MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING :3 heh, my brain is going brr brr rn. Ok ty! 💕

Escapism.

mdni, nsfw!!

pairings: choi yeonjun/reader

genre: smut, angst. hurt/no comfort??

warnings: fwb?yeonjun, meandom!yeonjun, mentions of beomgyu, mentions of club bathroom sex (Dont!), name calling (slut, whore, etc), unprotected sex (Dont! pt2), gender neutral reader but they have feminine anatomy, jealousy, anger, kinda dubcon if you think too hard about it, player!reader, if i forgot any lmk!

jjae's comments: this is.... insane. I sat down to write this thinking itd be like.. 1k? around the same length of my other fics? but no... welcome to 3k words of pure smut and sadness. i made yeonjun a lot more pathetic in this fic than i think the ask originally intended, but i hope it still reads well!! enjoy!

“No strings attached.” he had said. No strings attached. If that's what he wanted, then why was Yeonjun acting this way? He hadn't the faintest idea, but the sight of you dragging a puppy-looking guy to the bathroom with your finger hooked into the front of his jeans made his chest cave in.

He thought this was a good idea, months ago. Back when you were only focused on him with your puppy-crush. Maybe it was the power he held over you back then that convinced him to do this. The strength he had over your every move made his head too foggy with desire to see the fatal error of his ways. Back then you seemed like just a nerdy college student, out of place and quiet. Just his type. He was glad the work of approaching you had been done for him, smirking at the board with your name scrawled next to his. ‘Just how cliche would this get?’ He wondered at the time. It was practically fate. He spent weeks breaking through your cold and bitter exterior, dead-set on tasting the sweet softness that he knew you kept well-hidden. It was the thrill of the chase. The promise of something forbidden, off-limits. Sure, he could give any excuse he wanted, but getting into your bed with you was always his goal. You were a sweet poison, he soon found. You were the sweetest of nectars, yet shockingly deadly. He was in bed with you, his plush lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. He drank in the quiet whimper you let out when his teeth scraped at you with the sharp promise of his canines marring your soft skin.

“No strings attached.” He had whispered to you huskily, and you dumbly nodded along, eager to please so he would keep going. So he would consume you like the fire you knew he was. He said it more for his own sake than yours, he thought. He knew from the first time he had you under him, obscene sounds coming from where your hips collided, mouth spilling rivulets of drool around his fingers which pressed and prodded at your tongue, that he was thoroughly fucked.

But now, after months of being your.. What was the right word for it? Was this a situationship? Was he your friend-with-benefits? You two had never talked about it. Hell, you hardly did anything more than moan into each other's mouths and skin. Neither of you were next to one another by the time the sunshine graced your apartment windows. He knew better, now. If he was going to continue drinking in your poison by the mouthful, he needed to be careful. Precise, even.

Yeonjun sighed, watching you go as he swirled the drink in his hand. You didn’t know he was there. You didn’t even see the text he had sent you 2 hours prior on your phone, you were too busy scanning the crowd. He had texted you the second he walked through the doors into the club he knew you frequented. He was perhaps a little desperate to see you, but he would never tell you as much. Hell, it was hard to even admit it to himself. He craved you like he craved air.

But you didn't care. You didn't even react to the buzzing in your pocket, sharp eyes intent on finding your next victim. This club was your web, and you were a black widow. He hadn’t known it when he stumbled into your trap all those months ago, but you were vicious. You took control of him like a possession, the thrum of your power over him was buzzing under his skin constantly. Your kiss was a brand, ruining him for anyone or anything else.

The great player, Choi Yeonjun, reduced to a simpering, desperate boy. How far he had fallen in pursuit of you.

He recognized the man you had picked - your victim for the night - as Choi Beomgyu. He was a friend of Yeonjun’s, actually. They bickered a lot, but they got along well enough. He recalls mentioning you to him before.. Had Beomgyu sought you out because of him? The thought made his stomach churn. Jealousy cut through him like a searing hot knife, the jagged edge catching his anger in just the right way. His eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door, sipping away at his drink the entire time you occupied it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what you were doing in there, but he needed to see it. He needed to know that you were really doing this.

He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Rationally, realistically, this was none of his fucking business. He was the one who suggested you two wouldn’t be exclusive. Why should he be upset now that his own words were haunting him. Was it because he never expected to get this attached? Or was it the realisation that you didn’t feel the same? It was obvious that you didn’t care for him the way he cared for you. He could live with that, he thought. He could live with you not loving him back, but seeing you sneak off with someone new right before his very eyes? This was an anger he was unfamiliar with. He was never on the receiving end of this. Perhaps this was karma, finally catching up to him and providing him the pain he usually dished out freely. Perhaps he deserved this.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, makeup smudged and clothes wrinkled, his heart plummeted to the floor. He glanced behind you, watching Beomgyu walk out with a dazed look in his eyes, shirt halfway undone and hair a mess. You loved pulling on his hair when he gave you head, He thought. The memory of him being the one between your thighs finally snapped the cord in him.

He slammed his drink down onto the table next to him, ignoring the way the other patrons flinched at the loud crack the glass made against the worn wood. He was already halfway across the floor. You didn’t even notice him until he was on you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the club with the shadow of his rage hanging over him like a cloud. He barely registered you tugging at his arm, trying to get him to let you go, trying to ask him what was going on. Your questions fell on deaf ears. He was on a mission as he dragged you to his apartment for the first time, only a few minutes walk away from the club.

He was going to prove he was better. No one else could have you the way he could.

Yeonjun liked to believe that he was a gentle lover. That he could be mean when it was required or requested of him, but for the most part, he was a giver. Full of plush words and promises that usually held no actual weight. A phrase echoed in his mind at that, something about truth being singular, and lies being words, words, words. In that case, Yeonjun guessed he was a liar of a lover. It tracked, if he really thought about it. Like now, when he had you pressed into the door the second you two were beyond the threshold, kissing you like a man starved. His hands were possessive, gripping onto your flesh wherever he could. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove- actually, scratch that. He did know. He wanted to erase every memory of Beomgyu’s touch, He wanted to burn it away with his own until only his touch remained on your skin.

You weren't sure where this animalistic side of Yeonjun came from, but you hardly had it in you to complain. You should probably push him away, demand answers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. The knowledge of this made yeonjun grin against your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft junction between the column of your throat and your shoulder, pulling a pleasured scream from your lips. He practically growled against the skin, fingers trailing down to push aside the skimpy shorts you wore.

“You let him finish inside?” He grit out, fingers sliding easily through your soaked core. The sound of Beomgyu’s cum leaking onto Yeonjun’s hardwood floor should have made you embarrassed, but instead of shame burning through you, only lust remained. You shivered, nodding at Yeonjun like a bobblehead, mind swirling in the wake of his rough handling of you. He just laughed, but the chuckle he released was devoid of humour. He was angry. You let him fill you? Did you let anyone else do the same?

“Dirty fucking thing.” He spat at you before hauling you up, legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, flinging you unceremoniously onto the covers. You were still bouncing on the mattress from the sheer force he used to toss you onto it when he descended on you. He was all tongue, teeth and rage as he practically tore your clothes off of you. He hardly gave you any space to breathe, let alone think. Your mind was a useless puddle of mush as he manhandled you, adjusting your body the way he wanted. By the time you could gather the mental presence it took to move your eyes downward, His breath was already fanning hotly at your still-sore cunt. Your eyes widened comically, but he only laughed at you before diving in and eating you with the crazed frenzy of a man who had never eaten before in his life. He had to clean you, had to rid you of any evidence of his friend. You had to become pure again, only for him to defile you himself, make you his the way you had made him yours. He had to show you, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Surely, you'd understand, right? You understood him. He was sure of it.

Your hands instantly tangled in his silky locks, tugging harshly enough to pull a hiss from his lips the second his tongue made contact. You squealed, body still sensitive from your previous orgasm with Beomgyu, but Yeonjun didn’t care. He wasn't doing this for pleasure, he was doing this to make a point. To make you his. He ate you with fervor, a mix of your arousal, Beomgyu’s release and Yeonjun’s drool making his face a fucking sopping mess. It dripped onto the sheets below, but he paid it no mind, allowing you to rock your hips desperately on his tongue and nose as he worked you up again. You were sobbing, fat tears streaming down your face and clumping your pretty lashes together. All he could think about while you bumped your swollen clit against his nose was how badly he wanted to ruin you once he was done. Your wails and pleas fell on deaf ears. He had no plans on slowing down, giving you any breaks. You had teased him enough, he thought, parading around with Beomgyu’s cum still stuffed inside you. He was intent on replacing it with his own. When you finally came, sobbing out his name into the silent, cold air of his apartment, you collapsed, boneless onto the sheets. Your hand clasped at your naked chest, sweat cooling your skin as you scrambled to catch your breath. You couldn't remember a single time when Yeonjun behaved like this, did things like this, ate you like this. Sure, he loved having you on his tongue, but he was always so sweet, drawing out every little hum and movement out for your pleasure. This shift in his demeanour left you confused, for sure, but you found it so hot that you couldn't stop to ask any questions. Your eyes flew open again, desperately clawing at his arms when he shifted your body again. He lifted you with ease, flipping you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing.

“Can't- jjunnie, please!” You cried, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he shoved your face into. He just sneered down at you, dragging his drooling cock through your soaked folds. He had no mercy for you, not anymore. He leaned down, smirking at the way your breath stuttered when the head of his cock caught your entrance. The feeling of his hot breath on your skin paled in comparison to the mean words he spat into your ear.

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, slut.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel any shame at his words. In fact, you revelled in them, pushing your hips back against him. It caught him by surprise, and you were so wet that he sunk into you with ease with that simple movement alone. A punched out groan fell from his pouty lips, one of his hands gripping your hip in a bruising hold. You were sure his fingertips would leave bruises for you to press on by tomorrow morning.

“God- You’re so fucking desperate, arent you? Just got your pussy stuffed with cum and you're already begging for more?” He laughed, the sound mean and cruel in your ears as he set a brutal pace. You were so slick that the sounds that reverberated in yeonjuns bedroom was fucking obscene. You felt filthy, dirty, used- and you loved it. You weren’t sure how, but Yeonjun could tell. You knew he could. Maybe it was the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fat cock, spearing into you with no mercy that gave you away. It didn’t matter, though. You hardly had the mental presence to care about anything beyond the way he stretched you out so so well. “Look at you, fucking pathetic. So eager for dick. Do I not give you enough? Huh? Do I need to stuff you full every hour of the day for you to be satiated?”

All you could do was claw at his sheets, nodding pathetically along to his words. He scoffed, reaching up to grab your chin and forcing your mouth open. “Speak, whore.”

You scrambled for words, but the syllables fell through your fingers like grains of sand. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, reminiscent of a fish out of water, before you finally managed out something akin to verbal language.

“Need- please- more- jjunnie-!” Your voice quickly dissolved into a chorus of pornographic ah, ah, ah-’s, and it sent a thrill through Yeonjun’s body. He was doing this to you. In this moment, right here in his bedroom, you were his. He shoved his fingers into your still open mouth, keeping your head thrown back as his hips ploughed into your sopping heat from behind. His thrusts were so intense they were punishing, sure to leave you sore and wobbly on your feet for days. Thinking about you stumbling around, needing his help to walk only made him growl and fuck you harder. He was far too drunk on you, on your moans, on your pussy. He couldn’t help himself.

“Need-? Getting fucked so good you cant speak, huh? Don’t worry, baby.” He grinned, but the smile was sharp and cheshire. It held no warmth for you, not that you could care or open your eyes long enough to even see it. You could feel it in his words, though, in the way he nibbled at your earlobe before shoving you down into the pillows again. “Daddy’s got you.”

He was entirely right, really. You were fucked positively stupid on his dick. You couldn’t deny that. In fact, you wouldn't. “Daddy-” you whined, voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of Yeonjun’s cock sinking into you and his hips snapping against the plush of your ass. “‘s fucking good- fuck!”

Yeonjun let out a breathless laugh before he pulled out of you. You hardly had time to whine at the loss, the aching empty feeling he left you with, before you were being moved again. Now you were on your back, and before you could even get your vision to focus on him, Yeonjun was already balls-deep in you again. With your head thrown back in bliss, throat bared for him, he couldn’t help but sneak down and leave angry, splotchy hickeys along your soft skin.

“That’s right, baby- fuck… take it. Take it. Gonna fill you up better than he did- fuck!” His hips were beginning to stutter, but his mouth kept running. He was dissolving into horny babble, but he had the presence of mind to sneak his hand down, fingers drawing rough circles on your clit that had you spasming underneath him.

He had slept with you enough times to know your tells, to know when you were going to finish. The way your head fell back, eyebrows drawn up, pretty lips making that pretty ‘o’ shape- the way you fluttered around him wildly, trying to milk him dry- you were close. He knew it. Just a few more thrusts, a slight change in angle and-

God, you were so beautiful when he had you like this, crying his name again, nails clawing uselessly against his back and leaving angry marks that he loved.

“That’s it, baby- shit. Take it, slut. Fucking take it-!” He gripped your hips firmly in both hands, using them to move you on him. It made his thrusts hit deeper, and- God, were you squirting? If anything, the revelation only made him rougher with you despite your protests that you couldn’t take it, that you needed him to slow down. He wouldn’t, though. You knew he wouldn't. He only grabbed you harder, cock slamming into your cervix in a way that made you wince before he finally filled you, pressed as deeply into you as he could manage. He pressed into you over and over, as if trying to force his seed even deeper into you. As if he could fuck it right into your little womb.

After a few more mean thrusts, you began to squirm and whine in his grip. Only then did he snap out of his jealousy-filled rage, looking into your eyes with his own so wide and pretty. There he was, that was closer to the Yeonjun you remembered. You smiled lazily at him, lifting your arms to him. With no prompting, he fell into your embrace. He peppered kisses along any skin he could reach, sighing happily into your skin when your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. You chuckled, but made no move to push him away. That was all he needed for hope to bloom in his chest again. You understood him, right? You knew what he was trying to do, what he needed. He needed you. He needed you more than air. He looked at you expectantly, hoping that you would say what he did not have the courage to.

But you didn’t say anything.

You didn’t say anything when he cleaned you up. You didn’t say anything when he carefully brought you to the bath he drew for you. You didn't say anything when he gently scrubbed your body. You didn’t say anything when he helped you back into your clothes.

You only opened your mouth to deny him when he suggested you sleep over. He didn’t know his heart could shatter so easily with just a few words. He supposed he had this coming. Yes, he was right, earlier. This was karma for all his previous misdeeds. You were karma, and you were cruel.

“No strings attached, remember?”

#jjae hard thoughts #txt smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #kinda #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together #jjae's kinktober #this one posessed me im sorry #i blinked and suddenly there were 3k words on my screen...#sorry not sorry?

214 notes · View notes

harmoonix · 1 year ago

Text

❄️ 𝙊𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙪𝙥𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝘿𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 ❄️

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

ೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️

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❄️ Helena asteroid [101] as described the most beautiful, is another beauty asteroid and it can show your beauty type: This asteroid has an big impact even when it sits together with a planet in a house

Aspecting the Sun or in the same house: Very beautiful, your face, aura energy is surrounded by beauty

Aspecting the Moon or in the same house: Very feminine/soft/kind/gracious, your eyes are very beautiful with this placement

Aspecting the Mercury or in the same house: Beautiful vocally, you can look very young/youthfull. Beautiful voice and talented

Aspecting Venus or in the same house: Gorgeous beauty, serenity, peaceful and yet very magical

Aspecting Mars or in the same house: Very prominent beauty, fierce beauty like a feline, very beautiful lips they may have red cheeks often

Aspecting by Jupiter or in the same house is the type of growing beauty, it grows day by day and night by night, they can have very beautiful legs/hips/hands and an oval face

Aspecting Neptune or in the same house: Ethereal, glamorous, electric, very soft beauty/soft skin and a soft body

Aspecting Uranus or in the same house; Their beauty is refreshing, they can start beauty trends because of how beautiful they are, very prominent facial expressions

Aspecting Saturn or in the same house: Their beauty lasts with the time, forever, very beautiful jaw/chin/nose and bone structure

Aspecting Pluto or in the same house: Magnetic beauty, very intense dark mesmerizing, a black diamond shinning in a dark cave vibes, they can have vibrant eye colors

ೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️

🏔️ Gemini Venus/Venus in the 3rd house and Venus at 3°, 15°, 27° have a very pleasant voice, calming, soft sometimes they tend to talk too much but is nothing bad about it they're still the cutest

💍 Having a lot of placements in your 7th house can make you to often think about marriage (Unless Saturn is there). You may think about that perfect wedding you want

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Dancing Bears

Painted Wings

Things I almost remember

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ೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️

🍫 Moon/Venus and even Sun in the 2nd house like to eat, they have a very good appetite and food is always tasty so why not?? They're always getting hungry

🫠 Moon aspecting Pluto (all aspects) are the type of people who are stuck in your mind forever, in a way... they're very unforgettable

🌪️ Sun or Saturn at 10° 22° degrees can indicate a strict or over protective father/dad figure in your life, maybe they were a bit too strict with you in your childhood

ೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️ೋೋ❄️❄️

🐚 Moon in the 9th house or at Sag Degrees 9°, 21° are in love with their culture/traditions and they love to share it with other people aswell. They're like the type of people who can teach you their cultural/traditional dance

🌺 Venus in Sagittarius can be tricky and in a way they liked to be chased and that gives them a fun time to fall in love with that person

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Far away

Long ago

Glowing dim as an ember

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🍓 Aquarius Venus and Venus in the 11th house are always in my heart for how nice they are with other people even though sometimes they can get betrayed

🌨️ Saturn harshly aspecting Moon has a hard time with thinking about love because they often tend to overthink, they are so soft and so sweet sometimes even shy and pure at heart, I wish and hope nobody with those aspects gets hurt in love ever

🫧 North Node in the 3rd house represents the way you'll connect with people in this life, how you'll make your relationships grow and how you'll use your voice to help yourself and others

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💯 Libra Moon/Taurus Moon and Leo Moon are the people who need the most reassurance in love in my opinion because they will always ask their partners "How much you love me" "Tell me" things like that

�� Vesta Asteroid in our charts can represent the most sacred thing and holy to us, is also the most sensitive part when it comes to the native's sexual side

Vesta in Pisces is a very sensitive spot, they can feel the pain in other people and they are always searching for something higher

Vesta in Scorpio can be very connected with the others personal physical body but its soul aswell, their emotions, their breath...

Vesta in Libra is very romantic and gentle, they can often seek for the others person true nature and justice, they will often stand up for the people they love

Vesta in Sagittarius is the point where Vesta feels the most free, they'll be always searching for more pleasure and for more fun from life

Asteroid Code [4]

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🫧 A mother with Capricorn/Sagittarius/Cancer Moon loves to share special things with their kids, some of them may share family legacy with other family members

💫 Moon in the 5th/9th and 11th house are the most optimistic houses for the moon to be in, they are very positive towards the even when their life seems sad/dark

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Things it yearns to remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

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🏞️ Venus in Fire Signs always catch people's eyes for the way they style. Your style is everything and it can be seen as something to inspire other people

💤 Leo/Libra and Aries Moon can get praised for their hair, because it can look very pretty and people can admire your hair even if you don't notice at first

❤️‍🔥 Sagittarius in your 11th/12th house can indicate having a mixed background when it comes to nationality and ethnicity and friends aswell

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🌾 Aphrodite (1388) in Leo/Scorpio/Pisces or 5th/8th/12th house are having a magnetic energy where the native is put under the spotlight

💘 Aphrodite (1388) in Gemini/Aquarius/Capricorn or in the 3rd/10th/11th house are having the most influence when it comes to the social world

🌴 Aphrodite (1388) square/opposite Mercury. Your voice is very different and people can admire that about you. Your voice can have an specific accent aswell

💪🏼 Mars in Taurus/Sagittarius/Capricorn can make the native to be sassy/savage in personality/words/etc i feel like Mars loves these signs a lot

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❄️ Hii everyone!! I'm kinda a bit little with my winter post but I can promise you the wait was worth it!!❄️

❄️ I hope you all have a great great great and amazing winter season for all the next 3 following months, is the most magical time of the year after all ❄️

H a r m o o n i x ❄️

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v3nusxsky · 2 months ago

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Mars, mars!

I got a ask that I hope you write.

Basically Larissa is in a new relationship with Reader. And Larissa has been with Reader sexually since they passed 3 months together and they wished to enter into a more intimate relationship, but Larissa introduced shapeshifter sex (basically a shapeshifted cock and balls) and they are having unprotected sex.

Time passed and Larissa began to notice that her girlfriend’s areola is darkening, at first she let it pass but then talked with reader about it during pillow talk after sex, then she noticed that her girlfriend was eating weird foods and drinking weird combinations of liquids, something she expressed to her girlfriend amused. Then suddenly Larissa noticed that Reader was super sensitive during sex (while there were doing missionary, Reader squirted for the first time) and she talked about it during pillow talk while there were cuddling, while mentioning that her girlfriend was literally glowing. (like her nails were beautiful, her hair was long, shiny and healthy and her face had a beautiful blush and she had glass skin)

So after MONTHS of letting it go, all those things combined arose Readers suspicious about something she was thinking about. Reader then went and checked her calendar (while Larissa was at work) and realized that her period was 9 months ago and literally panicked about it. So next day she went to her doctor and talked about it, and the doctor did some blood texts and let her go home. Two days passed and reader was called from the doctor to come in and check her results, when she goes she’s given the news that she’s pregnant and she’s clearly been pregnant for 9 months, Reader of course doesn’t understand HOW? the doctor explains that Readers has a cryptic pregnancy and she’s almost ready to pop.

Reader goes back home dazed and confused by the whole situation, waiting for Larissa to get home to tell her the news.

Larissa goes home and Reader tells Larissa the news and Larissa faints from the surprise.

When she wakes up her girlfriend is sitting tensely on the couch and is given the news that she’s gone in labor.

Labor happens with Larissa panicking like a headless chicken and after HOURS of pain, reader gives birth to a healthy baby girl. A baby girl that Larissa cried big fat tears in seeing how precious her queen and princess look cuddling together on the hospital bed. A baby that made a decision that had been brewing for LONG time, in where Larissa kneeled beside the hospital bed and asked reader to marry her, with a ring that she took out of her bag.

OF COURSE READER SAID YES!!!

That’s it! I hope you do this ask I would be extremely happy and excited to read what you write. Have a good day mars!

The best surprise

*Authors note~ twenty two years to celebrate with a birthday fic including as many types of fics possible using the woman who inspired me to start writing again. Larissa Weems 🥰*

Trigger warnings~ cryptic pregnancy, shifted cock and balls for Larissa, hinted breeding kink and pregnancy kink (Larissa), smutty times, breast worship (r receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare, squirting (r receiving), missed period shock, doctors test, “spontaneous labour”, faints (Larissa), purposed (r receiving), mentions strap on, dom Larissa, sub kitten r

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

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You’ll never forget the day she finally asked you to be hers. The way she stumbled over her words due to the nerves wrecking through her tall frame. The way her cyan blue eyes sparkled with pure joy and relief when you said yes. Dating your boss is something you’ve been warned about, they say it’s complicated and quite simply a one way ticket for a relationship to fizzle out. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t worry you at the start of the relationship with Principal Weems. Not only her being your boss but an older woman with more life experience than yourself felt slightly intimidating at the start. As the love grew the insecurities faded and you were living your best life with her. Happy.

The first time the two of you made love was nothing short of magical. Larissa took her time to slowly introduce to the pleasure she could bring you, the ways she could touch you and make you feel building your confidence steadily. You’ll never forget the first time you made the shifter orgasm. All the fears of not doing it right or being deemed “sexy enough” disappeared. Choosing to make the older woman feel all the love you held for her, worshiping all six foot three inches of her. It was perfect.

Larissa is a highly intelligent human, you could see that from a mile away, so it shouldn’t have shocked you that she would introduce many kinks to you. Ones you’d never even thought of. And her specific ability enabled her fantasies in many ways. It started small, your desire for her to feel the way you took her strap on in your mouth, the need to feel her inside of you. You’d confessed it one night when you were far down into your submissive haze, unknowingly awakening a beast Larissa didn’t know she housed.

Timing was the key. And Larissa was always impeccable with her timing. The first time you saw her shifted cock and balls you went feral. It just so happened you were ovulating that week, your hormones causing your libido to rise. The idea of her giving into your desires causing you to practically jump the older woman. She practically tutted at you holding your body a fraction away from her very naked frame, “darling. Be a good little kitten and please me before I even think about fucking this pretty pussy of mine.” The green light to fall to your knees and take her impressive length into your now hallowed cheeks only encouraged the arousal to drop down your thighs.

As heavenly as your mouth feels, your tight little cunt was ten times more. “Such a pretty kitten for me. Your slutty little hole is just dragging me back in darlin. God I love fucking you, if I could I’d constantly have you cock warming me. Wanna be stuffing you full of my cock all day kitten. You want that hmm?” She’d grunt as her thrusts continued to work their way deeper towards your cervix. “Want me to fill your pretty little womb with my babies? Keep you so full forever? You’re gonna look so pretty alll round and full for me. A pretty little kitty all for me. Fuck, please let me breed you darling. I need it.” All you could do was take her in deeper accepting load after load of her white hot seed. If only you’d known then what one night of passionate loving sex could do.

Larissa couldn’t help herself, on the rare occasions she got to watch you change for bed she had to stare. It had to be a crime to be as stunning as you are. But recently her keen eyes picked up on the slight darkening of your beautiful areola causing your tits to stand out more than normal. But then again she’d lavished them with loving nips and sucks nights in a row recently so perhaps they were just bruised. “Darling?” She mumbled catching your attention despite how exhausted your throughly fucked body was. “You’d tell me if I’m ever too rough with you wouldn’t you sweetheart? I never want to cause you any pain. You do know that right?” In a confusing sleepy haze you simply murmured reassurances that you were in deed well and truly satisfied and not feeling bad at all before snuggling up close to the woman. She’d have to be more careful with her attention to them. Maybe finding other places to mark as hers.

Larissa knows her girlfriend pretty well. But this was the third time this week you’d caught her off guard with a dinner request. You truly couldn’t stand some foods so to hear you ask for them and your choice of beverage not being something you’d normally buy was a surprise. But then again you’d remind her that it’s on your yearly list to try new foods and this sounds so nice so why wouldn’t you try it? And there is where she’d drop her argument, it’s not as if you’d be pregnant anyway. Right? There’s been no symptoms. Perhaps it’s a phase.

You felt normal, so every time Larissa noticed a change in behaviour you brushed her off. But while making love to the blonde, her lips at the shell of your ear as she whispered all her dirty fantasies and thrusted into your fluttering core you felt werid. Not a bad weird, but a strong urge to let go. To cum. Of course Larissa begged you to let go while dropping a hand to rub tight circles on your clit but neither of you expected for you to squirt for the first time as one of the most intense waves of pleasure tore through your body. You were always more sensitive in sex around the time of your period arriving, so naturally she comforted you and helped clean up before allowing you to snuggle up into her and talk. You admitted that it was scary not knowing what your body wanted but it was so powerful that you wanted to explore it more. It was then that Larissa noticed how shiny your beautiful hair was, the fact your skin was practically glowing and a beautiful pink blush had settled on your cheeks. “You’re so perfect darling” she mumbled absolutely mesmerised by your beauty causing you to chuckle and lightly slap her chest telling her to stop being so horny as you needed sleep now, with a giggle.

A student In your class was sent to the nurse for extremely horrendous period pains a few months later. That’s what prompted you to check. Your period was never regular but it also hadn’t appeared in a while causing the past few months to flash back into memory. But you couldn’t be pregnant. The only person you’d been with is your girlfriend. A chuckle escaped you, of course you wouldn’t be because you’re both girls. But then why was all you could think prompting you to book a doctor’s appointment to be checked out. Just incase.

The appointment was relatively painless, the doctor took some blood and asked all the usual questions about when the last time your period came and the last time you had sex. While slightly embarrassing you informed the doctor you were sleeping with another female. So they almost ruled out pregnancy. Almost. Yet no other explanation made sense and the more you thought about it the more you felt anxiety rising up in your stomach. The feeling of dread gluing you to the spot.

Your phone rang on your lunch hour, the number clearly stating this was what you were waiting for. The answer to whatever was causing your lack of period. Perhaps you need to go on some contraception to regulate them. That had to be it. “Congratulations you’re pregnant” rang in your ears as your phone crashed to the floor. Pregnant? How? What? You couldn’t be. It had to be a mess up in the lab. Right?

Wrong. After gathering yourself the doctor explained how you were experiencing a cryptic pregnancy, you actually were nine months pregnant and ready to deliver a baby, meaning you needed to pop by the Emergency Department and request and emergency scan, just to check the baby was healthy. How could you not know you were pregnant? Were you a terrible mother for not knowing this whole time? What would Larissa say? Would she believe you that the baby was hers? How could you have a baby? All these questions and more swirled round your brain as you rushed to the emergency room.

After being scanned and told you were due any day now but the baby was healthy, choosing to not know the gender, you drove home on autopilot. Pregnant. You a mother. It all seems too impossible to be real, yet the scam photo in your passenger seat was very much real. You’d heard their little heart beat in away. Reality.

Telling Larissa was absolutely nerve wrecking, emotions drowning you as you stumbled to get the words out and handed her the scan of your unborn baby. You expected shock, denial perhaps even screaming or tears. Larissa fainting on you wasn’t something you were prepared for. However, like life itself now, nothing was going the way you thought it would. You did your best as a heavily pregnant woman to help your lover even though tears were streaming down your cheeks. You’d always imagined telling your lover your pregnant in cute ways where she’d kiss you senseless instead of fainting.

Hours faded into days as you both processed the information and tried to frantically gather the items the baby would need urgently. Until your water broke three days after finding out you were indeed pregnant. You had three days to prepare when most couples had nine whole months. It was only natural Larissa spent the entire labour panicked trying to find ways to help with your pain and keep both of you calm. It hurt her to see you in endless amounts of pain as you waited for your body to dilate and the little surprise to work its way down the birth canal. You’d snapped at the blonde many times without meaning to, but it hurt so fucking much. You were definitely not enjoying pregnancy or giving birth and you told her as much. The nurse checking on your dilation couldn’t help but giggle when you told Larissa to keep her magical dick away from your core. If you so much as saw it again you’d snap it for causing this pain. You didn’t mean it, she knew that, but that’s the first time she’s ever been afraid of you.

Screams filled the room as your child took their first breaths. A beautiful baby girl, a perfect mix of you and Larissa laid bundled up in your arms. Tears of love and joy slipping down your cheeks as you gazed loving at her. Your daughter’s small hand wrapped around your little finger, she was real. Something so small and perfect and a complete surprise. Larissa couldn’t help but snap many pictures of you both together. Her queen and now beautiful little princess simply captivating her. She’d never get over how stunning you both are. How special you both are. “Rissa she’s so perfect” you gushed “she has your hair, do you want to hold her?”

Coming to settle with her little family she couldn’t help but feel now was the perfect time. You already had a daughter together, and seeing her whole world sat in a hospital bed made her more determined to keep you both. “Hi little one, you’re so gorgeous like your mommy” Larissa gushed before turning her attention to you, “what do we name our little surprise darling?” It took some time to decide together but ultimately felt right that the little girl in her arms was named Nova Lillie. “Well Miss Nova Lillie Weems, we should make momma a weems then too huh? Darling I want you forever and always will you do me the honour of being my wife?” A small ring made its way out from her pocket causing you to smile and nod. A Weems. Marrying Larissa Weems and raising your beautiful little surprise together would be everything you need. Nova was everything you both needed and more, you just didn’t know it yet.

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #larissa weems smut #larrisa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #dom larissa #larissa smut #larissa weems #larissa #larissa x reader #weems x reader #principal weems x reader #weems #birthday fic

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heartysworld · 10 months ago

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Say it, loud and clear! || Azriel x Fem!Reader

A/N: so my friend gave me this idea where Rhys' dad took Azriel in as his own son after the two got so close. And I couldn't come up with a proper title for him so Prince will have to do for now! If you have any suggestions send them! I hope you enjoy this <3

W.C: 1.9k

If you're interested in more of these you can check out my wattpad account where I have a lot more posted from a whole ago! Right HERE

You laid in bed,covered in furs while the fireplace cracked with life af the wood inside burned. The season was starting to get colder and colder. Meanwhile, Azriel sat on the other side of the bed,his upper half exposed to the still cold air while he fastened the laces of his leather pants. The two of you had spent another night tangled in each other, just like you did for the last half a year.

The entire high family of the Day Court had been invited to spend a year under the roof of the High Lord of the Night Court in an attempt to form stronger alliance. Late at night,when every living soul is already away at the world of the dreaming a quiet knock on the wooden doors of your chambers would pull you out of your thoughts. This secret relationship was something you couldn't describe yourself. To you it was more than just seeking pleasure, you had grown to love the older Prince ever since the two of you were younger. What scared you was not knowing how Azriel felt about this, he never spoke of his thoughts and feelings. The only time he did so was the first time he spent the night with you,that same night he took your innocence away, whispering sweet words in your ear as he broke through you. The way your heart fluttered that night made you think about this moment quite often.

You haven't thought of asking him about it any sooner,until the previous morning you overhead your father and the Lord of Night speaking of a potential marriage between you and the Prince. Your father also mentioned another proposal for your hand that came from the lands of Spring. The only heir of the Spring Court had his eyes set on you ever since his family's last visit to Day. There was nothing bad about Tamlin, but knowing that your heart was already stolen by another prevented you from thinking of possibly accepting him as your husband.

"I heard something yesterday." You said while looking at Azriel's naked back, his wings spread mightily around him, making the sight even more magnificent.

"What did you hear again, sweet dove?" Azriel asked, turning his body around to look at you with a small smile. Slowly he crawled back on the bed, hovering above you as he started stealing kisses from your lips.

You delayed your answer, wanting to enjoy the moment for longer. You hand went to your lover's face, holding it gently while you kissed him, earning a quiet groan as your cold hands made contact with his warm skin.

"Yesterday morning" you started, interrupting the kiss,still keeping your Prince close to you. "I overheard our fathers speaking."

"Go on, you've caught my interest." Azriel said, smirking at the confession that you had spied on a conversation between two of the High Lord's of Prythian.

"They were speaking of potentially marrying us." You replied.

The moment those words left your mouth you felt Azriel's body tense above yours. Seconds later he was away from you, out of bed, searching for the remainder of his clothes.

His reaction both surprised you and didn't. You never knew what to expect from him whenever news that involve himself were discussed.

"What are you doing, Azriel? What's with the rush let's talk about this!" You said,now standing up close to him as you tried to make him stop his frantic movements.

"There is nothing to talk about, Y/N, if they bring up the decision for this marriage to you, just decline it!" The Prince replied, now pulling his nightshirt over his head.

Your heart broke at his words. He didn't want to even speak about this.

"Why should I decline? Don't you want us to marry and no longer have to hide this relationship from people's eyes? I thought you loved me!" You said finally snapping at him and his behavior.

His reaction followed seconds later after your outburst.

"No! No I do not wish to get married! I do not want to spent my life in a loveless marriage, to be tied down to the duty of producing children that would remain forgotten by the nation or even worse! Killed!" Azriel shouted. He spilled words out one after another, each and every single one cutting harder through you.

By the time he was finished tears were already streaming down your face while your body trembled. He didn't want you,he didn't love you. All he wanted was your body and you were too blind to see it. All these months ago,those sweet words he whispered to you were only a facade,so he could get what he wanted.

"Very well then. Have a good day, my Prince." You said,voice already breaking at the end of your sentence. You bowed your head slightly, something you haven't done in years. Azriel never has you call him "Prince" or curtsey to him whenever you encountered him ever since you were children.

After he dressed himself he left your chambers without another word. Soon after your maids arrived, finding you curled on a ball in your bed, sobbing quietly. The three women were concerned about your state, asking if something had happened,if you were hurt in any way. You answered their questions with some made up story about a dream that felt too real and made you feel scared. No more words were exchanged.

When it was time for breakfast you were informed that Prince Azriel was not going to be present for your usual shared breakfast as he had left more than an hour ago and fled Velaris. He ran away from you to Mother know where, taking away the happiness he brought you with him.

The next week or so was spent mostly in your chambers or out in the gardens. The High Lord's mate herself had invited you to join her once after hearing of you staying in your room constantly.

She was the one to tell you Azriel had gone to Windhaven, claiming he wanted a change of scenery. You knew that was a lie, Azriel hated that place, it reminded him of his younger years, of the time his so called brothers poured oil on his hands and lit them on fire.

During that week your father also sought your presence to dine with him, sharing the news of his conversation with the Lord of Night regarding your possible suitors. The moment he mentioned Azriel your heart broke once again, memories from that morning flooding your mind. Second he spoke of Prince Tamlin and his proposal. You were not pressured to choose immediately, but the sooner you did the better, the High Lord wanted to see his younger son finally get married and if you declined the offer,another woman would be found quickly.

You asked for another week to think through the possibilities on which your father agreed. If Azriel did not return by the seventh day you were going to accept the proposal of the man of spring. It would at least take you as far away as possible from all the pain Azriel caused you.

The next morning, another invitation from the Lady of Night arrived, asking you to join her for breakfast in her private chambers. She had heard from her husband of the possibility of you marrying one of her Princes.

"I have no doubt you are going to make the best choice for yourself,my sweet girl. I also know that my son has been attached to your side ever since he could remember. Why choose a man of sprinf and leave your family behind to go live at the other side of the continent?" She said, sipping on her tea.

You waited a moment before responding.

"The Prince would not want me as his wife, my Lady, he would never even marry if he was given the choice. I do not wish to trap him in a marriage he does not want." You replied,not daring to look at her.

The woman let out a sight before she took your hand in hers, getting your attention.

"I never wished to marry my husband, dear Y/N, but we women don't really have a choice in the society that we live in. With time a woman grows to love her husband." She said.

"I promise to make the best choice, my Lady." You answered with a slight smile as you felt a light squeeze from her hands.

It was the seventh and last day of the period you had to make your decision. With not even a trace from Azriel you had already made up your mind. At least Tamlin wanted to marry you, unlike the Prince who ran away at the mere mention of marriage.

As promised you were invited to join your father and the Lord of Night for lunch where you would name your chosen husband to be. You had a few more hours until so. During those hours left, you bathed, picked up a dress and had one of your maids put your hair up in a nice braid. You wanted to look presentable after letting go fo yourself for almost a fortnight.

Now,you were taking small steps around the House of Wind, making your way towards your father's chambers from where the two of you would go to the High Lord's.

Meanwhile, a certain raven haired Prince ran across the city of Velaris after receiving a letter from his mother early this morning. As a mother, the Lady of Night knew her son had done something to make this beautiful girl in front of her look like an abandoned widow. That's why she sent a letter after thinking things through, informing her son of the decision you were about to make. Yesterday,your maids started asking about your choice,who would you wish to marry. You finally broke your silence, wanting to get it off your chest and so you told them of your loneliness here, of Prince Azriel's reaction of the possible marriage between you two. Later that day, your words reached the High Lady's ears.

"Lady Y/N, where is she?" Azriel asked as he bursted through the open doors of your chambers meeting only the maids who were changing the bedsheets.

"Her Ladyship went to find her father as the two are invited to have lunch with the High Lord." Said one of the three women. The Prince wasted no time as he ran away to try and find you as the maids giggled at his reaction.

His mind was racing with memories of how he left you alone that day a fortnight ago,with a broken heart and treat stained face. You called him Prince, you never did that, he himself had forbade you to do so years ago.

Azriel was afraid of marriage as he had witnessed the way his father treated his mother. The two were wed simply because they were mates and the court needed a male heir, Rhys. Even though the High Lord of Night had taken him under his wing all those decades ago, he could never forgive him for the way he treated his mate, the woman who raised Azriel as hers. The High Lord loved the boy as his own, but he had done way too many wicked deeds.

As Azriel was running to find you he thought of his actions,how could he even think you didn't love him all this time and how stupid he was for not telling you of his own feelings. Now you could slip away from his fingers not knowing of his love for you.

Just as he was about to round a corner in one of the many hallways,he crashed against someone else,a way too familiar voice screaming at the impact.

His body fell above yours as you let out a scream.

Moments later your eyes met the ones you had so dearly missed during the last two weeks,your own filling with tears at the sight of Azriel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as he still laid above your form.

"Don't marry him." Azriel whispered as his head got closer to yours.

"And why should I do that?" Another question was asked.

"Because I am the one who has loved you ever since I have known you Y/N. I have to have you, it is you or no one else. Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be mine.

"Do you love me, Azriel? That's all I need to know." You asked as a lone tear fell down your cheek. "Gods help me! Answer me Azriel,say it if you mean it,loud and clear!"

"I love you with all my heart,my dear Y/N, and I spent every single moment regretting how I left you alone that day, regretting the words I said to you. I want to marry you,only you. That is...if you'll have me, not only as your husband, but as your mate too." Azriel answered.

Seconds later your lips were on his as the you two shared a much needed kiss. The fact that you layed in the floor long forgotten as you drowned yourselves in the feelings you felt.

Your intimate moment was interrupted by two very familiar voices.

"I think the purpose of our lunch already received it's answers, Lord Aelius." The Lord of Night laughed as your father joined him seconds later.

The two man stood a few feet away as they happened to witness prince Azriel's confession.

You buried your face in Azriel's neck while he was barely holding back his laughter himself. This was going to be one of the many embarrassing moments to tell you children one day but it was worth it,because on this day your life actually started, accompanied by the man you have loved ever since you were a little girl.

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ledesaid · 1 month ago

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Four times when Conner finds a father...

Conner is upset, the school has lost hundreds of student records and they ask him to send a copy of his application again, including a copy of his birth certificate. He is not upset about the paperwork, he knows everyone will have to do it, but Megan and the Martian detective are on Mars on personal business and can't help. He asks Red Tornado for a copy and it's a surprise for Conner, a name that proudly appears on the protagonist, only one.

1. Bruce Wayne, it's interesting in retrospect... Conner's never met the man in his life, but the genemorphs showed him what he looked like, but what's a Gotham City billionaire's name elegantly spelled after his father doing on his certificate?

Conner definitely didn't have the urge to go knock on his door and ask what was going on, because he first asked Batman who awkwardly explained that he was a good friend who was willing to help if the situation warranted it... yeah, it was definitely because of that answer that he crossed the country and knocked on his door. The fact that he ended up running across the rooftops of Gotham a couple of months later was a curious and happy ending.

2. Clarence Charles Batson, more than confused by a totally strange name Conner feels the need to use the central computer of Mount Justice and the results disturb him, missing, they don't help him too much... Married archaeologist, two children, lost five years ago... the photo speaks for itself, he's practically Captain Marvel but with a terrible disguise. When he asks about the certificate the captain only manages to smile, begins to tell him an interesting story about a magician and a moral about not following unknown voices to abandoned subway stations. After an afternoon of flying he ends up adding that he shouldn't worry since they have the same chin. Conner doesn't feel the urge to wear tights yet, but he stamps a lightning bolt on his favorite jacket and is learning some magic from his magical father.

3. Lex Luthor, yes, is in front of Conner signing his birth certificate... Conner takes it as soon as he finishes and leaves his office with the same energy and good humor that characterizes him. He is certainly not upset because Clark has just spit in his face that he is not his father, it was not because he tore up the certificate where his name was written, a paper he had not seen before, or because he was not allowed to explain himself... He is upset because I sent him to find the person who sent him to clone. And from there he left, he intended to get the signature of PAUL WESTFIELD, CEO of Cadmus, but he discovered that he had another biological father who he did not hesitate to visit in the heat of the moment... the latter, blessed by the clone's situation and his motivation, did not take long to make it official. Conner never uses the certificate, but keeps it in his room waiting for the day when Clark resumes this one-sided discussion.

4.Guy Gardner, Conner has to ask Robin to hack into him to find out who he is because his information is encoded in the systems. He turns out to be the last Green Lantern to join the Justice League and someone very difficult to locate for a simple chat. A mini alien invasion and an attack in Brussels are necessary for Conner to be able to talk to him. Surprisingly, the Lantern recognizes him and greets him, asking him how he's been doing at school. A totally inappropriate image of the man for those who knew him or read reports about him. He easily manages to clarify that he was present the day they discussed who would sign the paper, he spit out that he knew gang members or imbeciles with more balls to sign for a baby that they weren't even sure if it was theirs. He becomes Conner's favorite superhero when he asks him - Do you want to go hit something boy? - Conner surprisingly does. Guy leaves again for space shortly after, but not before giving him an interspace communicator to keep in touch and a six pack of beer. Conner can't drink, legally and biologically his body can't get drunk, his gift is unbecoming, but the gesture of spoiling a super-powered teenager makes him feel pretty good. Conner ends up keeping them in his room with some appreciation. He gets a lantern tattoo a year later.

..........

(Sorry if I don't understand well, English is not my first language.)

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konigbabe · 1 year ago

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the great war

DAY 3 ⇢ Hate Sex Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!curse user!reader Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; hate sex; timejump (2007 → 2018); lovers to enemies vibes; angst; lots of self-loating; pronebone; p-in-v; angry (??) Gojo; unreliable narrator Summary: When the news of Suguru Geto's death reach your ears, the weapon in your grasp guides you to the place where the cause lies - to Satoru Gojo. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine.

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His palm presses firmly between your shoulder blades, a commanding touch that demands submission, while his other hand clamps onto your hips, fingers digging into the curves of your flesh with just the right amount of pressure.

September 2007

Buddhists believe that life is filled with suffering and misery. That death, in the end, is not a singular event, but rather a fundamental contribution to the misery of human existence.

It was a doctrine you refused to believe in. Spending days by the side of fellow sorcerers, suffering and misery rarely crossed your mind. It wasn't that you were naive or ignorant – quite the contrary. As a sorcerer-in-training, you were acutely aware of the dangers and horrors that lurked in the shadows. Cursed spirits, malevolent curses, and the constant struggle to protect the oblivious, helpless civilians were all part of your reality.

However, you clung to an alternative belief – that while suffering is an inherent aspect of life, whether it leads to misery rests entirely within your control –

Among your companions, your unwavering optimism often stood out. While others carried the weight of their pasts and the darkness of their experiences, you chose to embrace hope and resilience. This outlook didn't make you blind to the reality of suffering; rather, it gave you the strength to confront it head-on. At least you had something to hold on to.

– How stupid of you.

With Satoru's chest pressed firmly against your back, you watch the night sky unfold its kaleidoscope of stars above you. It's not often that the night is quiet; when even the stars shine through the clouds of haze and graze you with their gentle glow.

Arms casually thrown over your shoulders, his sharp chin digs into the crown of your head as he looks up at the sky. Your face tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Suguru leans against the railing to your right. Uniform rumpled, hair a cascade of frowzled strands; your eyes shamelessly roam over his face – pale (more than usual, and even more visible against the obsidian backdrop of the night), eyes staring vacantly forward, a well of shadows pooling beneath.

His appearance resembles a spectral apparition. Haunting reflection of the turmoil that seems to have taken residence within him. Events from the past emerge into your mind – Tengen' merger, Amanai's death, Toji, Gojo's enlightenment and the last piece, Haibara's tragic end.

Satoru's hand reaches to gently cradle yours, fingertips tracing the contours of the simple, polished ring adorning your finger. A single aquamarine gemstone decorating the silver band, its shape resembling a tear. His touch so soft and tender that it feels almost imperceptible.

"Hey," Satoru's voice tears you from your thoughts. Suguru's eyes dart to yours, a brief contact before he looks at Satoru, "are you even listenin'?"

("So you never thought ‘bout it?" Suguru's head sinks heavily onto his arms, the once-pristine white shirt now marred by wear of time and crinkled as he sits against the classroom wall. Class ended almost an hour ago, with Satoru leaving by Shoko's side to grab lunch.

"I mean," you release a deliberate sigh, ankles crossed on top of your desk with arms folded over your chest, "it might be an option," rising one hand, you point a finger at him, "but it's evil. And unreachable. Like c'mon," you flick your wrist dismissively, "we're talking about a worldwide genocide."

"Not worldwide, just Japan."

A derisive chuckle escapes your lips, laden with incredulity, upon hearing his words. "Just Japan," you look at your classmate, close friend, "are you hearing yourself, Suguru?"

He gazes up at you, eyes heavy with weariness and emptied of their usual vibrancy. The burden of his thoughts etched onto his face.

"Suguru," your tone drops, voice becoming a mere whisper; the man before your eyes being close to a delicate thread on the verge of snapping, "are you holding up okay?"

"No.")

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur into his skin, returning his touch and caressing his wrist.

"As I was sayin'," your eyes return to Suguru momentarily before flicking to the horizon of darkness stretching above the school's grounds, "once we finally graduate and I become the head of my clan, we could use my estate as our home. Then we can make loads of babies. Pretty sure my father would be pleased if I had a son."

"It's not your estate," you correct Satoru.

"It's a Gojo estate. And I'm a Gojo. The one with Six eyes and the future leader," his fingers sneak under your chin, gripping the soft flesh of your neck to tilt your head to the side and up, gently straining your neck so that you're compelled to look at him. Eyes the same hue of a tranquil ocean under the moonlight.

"I'll put in the work," his tone turns into a whisper, a murmur that wraps around your body like a velvet night, shielding your conversation from intruding ears – including Suguru, who's standing barely an arm's reach away. The man who now feels like an outsider to the intimate exchange of his friends, "get you all full and happy. You won't leave the bedroom until you go into labor."

It's not his words that render you speechless. Immobile. Mouth slightly ajar. Nor the promise they carry, or the weight of the commitment. It's solely the look in his eyes. As if this man truly believes his words. That he sees this not as an equal partnership, but you as the vessel for his legacy, a mother to his progeny, a means to secure his lineage.

The jujutsu society has carved a mark deep within Satoru Gojo's psyche, even if it's been only a subconscious influence.

"Satoru,"a subtle frown creases your forehead, despite the way his words ignite a fire between your legs, make your pussy throb, "I'm not a breed–"

"Some people believe that the stars are the souls of the people who've passed on," Suguru's words cut through the exchange. Pulling your eyes towards his profile, seeing as he continues to watch the night sky, hands tucked away in his pockets. A gentle smile graces his face.

While you're thankful for his precisely timed intervention, Satoru sneaks a hand onto your abdomen, resting in inside your muff pocket with palm squeezing the soft flesh over the clothes. He releases a theatrical breath, capturing the attention of both of you.

"Way to ruin the mood, Suguru," he adds after a while.

"I think there might be some truth to that," you offer a small, appreciative smile.

In the days that follow your conversation, a dark cloud of dread casts its shadow over your every moment, only fueled by the devastating news of Suguru's most recent mission. After that, each moment's laden with a sense of impending unease. As if the future has already been foretold – only a matter of time before the summons arrives, the call to a meeting that you can already taste like the metallic tang of apprehension on your tongue.

Stepping into the room, it's not just the mission that settles heavily upon your shoulders; it's the weight of an unspoken truth that hangs in the air, casting a pall over the proceedings. Staring upon the silver band encircling your finger, cutting off the flow of blood, it's the revelation that has changed everything for you.

The task assigned to you appeared simple, straightforward, presented with a cold and calculated logic: Kill Suguru Geto and return within fourteen days.

(Reality has a way of deviating from the plans made.

It is why you never came back.)

Early 2018

The ghost of Suguru Geto hovers over you like a specter in the periphery of your thoughts. Especially when you stand in front of the man you've avoided for almost a decade.

There's no solid reason for you to be here. In Satoru Gojo's overly expansive, unnecessarily spacious penthouse. His ignorance to wealth and what's necessary versus what's superfluous still glaringly obvious. Especially with his current job; one that back in the day, back when you were all still students, wouldn't even cross his mind.

You weren't entirely certain if he'd be here today. Tonight. Tracking his movements, they'd always end within the barrier of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech. A barrier that, if crossed, would result in your immediate arrest and subsequent execution. And despite your occasional recklessness, you had no death wish to speak of.

"That's why you're here?" Gojo's glasses now replaced by a black blindfold, folded around his neck. His eyes, shining even in the dim lighting, twinkle with raging stars when they shift to the weapon in your hand, sensing its foreign cursed energy that overwhelms even your own, "to kill me?"

A sardonic snicker escapes you, your laughter bordering mockery as you respond, "Come on, Gojo. Don't get foolish now. I can't kill you."

With a touch of exasperation, you add, "No one can."

"Then why're you here," he demands, his presence commanding the room. Uniform jacket already cast aside, the white button-up shirt partially undone, showing the contours of his clavicles. Time and age have done the sorcerer good; with gained knowledge, he also gained the physicality of experience. Something that creates longing – desire for the past that surges through you. A tidal wave of yearning. A wish that you stayed; that you were there, by his side, witnessing his transformation.

(Could it be the grip of regret? The sting of rue? Perhaps. But the past already happened, ensnared within the grasp on time's flow; its passing moments already etched into the annals of history. Dwelling on it now serves no purpose but to churn the tempestuous sea of emotions.

The sea whose waves are starting to crash against the rocky shores of the present.)

"You disappeared years ago. Without a word. Not even a goddamn ‘Goodbye'."

You watch his cold, distant façade crumble, anger seeping through the cracks as he waves one hand, advancing with measured steps, "I looked for you. Scoured every inch of Japan. For you. Where in the world were you?"

Gojo's eyes blaze with molten determination; boring into your soul, seeking answers you're hesitant, almost reluctant, to provide. Doubt lingers in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog, clouding the once familiar connection between you two.

A connection that you severed with a violent, rapid stroke, leaving nothing but shattered remnants in its wake.

"You had no right to do that," he seethes, words dripping with indignation.

"You are the one to talk," you return his anger, the relentless tide crashing against unyielding cliffs, "you killed him. You killed Suguru, Gojo."

His face contorts with fury, a wildfire raging behind his eyes. The air crackles with tension as your words cut deep, reopening wounds that had never truly healed.

It's then that the distance between you two narrows until he's almost within reach; enough for your fist to connect with him. Fully aware that it would never actually reach him. His flesh. That you won't feel the warmth of his skin. With the jutte sword's blade facing you, fist tightening around the leather handle, you hit and hit a void.

"You killed my friend," your voice trembles with a mixture of sorrow and rage, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The side of your fist repeatedly collides with empty air – it's a cruel dance, truly – a void that fills the space between Gojo and you, a chasm that feels as vast as the abyss, "my friend. Suguru. You killed him–took him away."

Your eyes lock onto his, a desperate search for answers, while Gojo remains a silent and immovable figure. Face resembling carved marble – all solid, perfect yet devoid of any emotion. Letting you spill your anger onto him. You observe as the brilliance in his eyes wanes, those once-vivid blue hues, reminiscent of a precious topaz, gradually losing their luster, darkening, and becoming more reflective of a human's ordinary iris.

Your fist meets the muscle of his chest.

"I hate you," one, two times your fist hits, "I hate you so much, Gojo."

Then his fingers slither around your wrist, twisting it painfully until the loud clank against the floor indicates that your weapon has slipped from your grasp.

"I know," his voice remains monotonous; a mere echo.

He advances, closing the distance between you, his presence a relentless force pressing against you. Eyes a tempest of longing; a tangible aura of desperation that shouldn't flicker across his stoic countenance. All you want to do is stab the look out of his eyes. Gauge it out with your fingers. Stealing away what he so callously takes for granted –

Maybe then he will stop being blind to his surroundings.

– just as he robbed you of your childhood friend. Someone you considered a brother.

"I hate myself too." It's all he mumbles, his voice a barely audible confession, before his lips crash into yours. A tumultuous collision. His hands are everywhere, grasping your shoulders, trailing down your arms, and gripping your hips with an urgency that borders on desperation. Pushing and pulling; body pressed against yours.

Gojo's tongue sweeps over your teeth, the wet tip coaxing yours, drawing forth moan after moan from you, hungrily swallowing every sound you release, trying to quench an insatiable thirst that only your moans can satisfy.

The kiss ravenous, consuming – it makes you unable to resist the magnetic pull of his ardor.

When your name slips between his lips, the reality crashes onto you. Pulling away, you look into his blazing eyes. Lips bruised and swollen, shirt somehow unbuttoned. Showing the contours and hard edges of his chest and abdomen. The scar across his whole upper body, though healed, remains visible. Body sculpted into perfection by years of determined training.

Your hand reaches forward. Fingertips tingling with the longing to make contact, to savor the tactile sensation. And Gojo stands still, a hand resting on your hip, molding your form against the sturdy frame of the couch. Your thighs caught between his, pressed against the velvety embrace of the dark brown upholstery.

Both of your disheveled hairdos mirror the chaos, intensity of the moment, framing your faces with unruly tendrils. Eyes fixated upon his body, hesitating to meet his eyes. Your arm extends more. An outstretched limb seeking connection.

His scrutinizing eyes trace the landscape of your face – witnessing as time stripped away the youthful, once-cheerful smile that had once adorned your lips. Now swollen, hardened lines with two delicate, faint marks traversing your upper lip – a scar. Curiosity gnaws on him, wondering of its origin. If whatever caused it might've been circumvented if you'd stayed.

If you had stayed.

(Maybe if he searched more thoroughly. Fought with greater determination…)

Your hand jerks back. Recoils as if touched by scorching heat. Gaze turning into a torrential downpour as it locks onto his, a deepening frown carving lines across your brow.

"No," he swears he hears you mutter to yourself, lips finding refuge at the juncture of his clavicles. Hands slipping beneath the satin shirt, clenching the taut muscle of his shoulders. One leg draped across his hip, you grind against his thigh without reservation, embracing the sensation of friction against your clothed core, the fabric beginning to absorb your burgeoning desire.

"What–"

"Just fuck me," you nibble at the skin, voice thick with passion, teeth sinking into the flesh and pulling, causing the man to hiss, "fuck me, Gojo."

He grips your jaw. A touch both benevolent and directing. Pulls you off his neck, compelling you to confront the storm of his eyes. Vortex of unspoken emotions. A cyclone of pure desire and passing hesitation. His thumb and index finger press into the soft flesh of your cheekbones, compressing the pliant contours until your lips pucker and part.

"I hate you," you manage to utter, the words emerging as a strained whisper through clenched teeth.

In the ensuing moment, Gojo acknowledges your declaration with a solemn nod, a silent recognition.

"Good," he then pivots you in one fluid motion. Hands finding purchase on the couch's armrests. Gone is the restraint he's maintained until now. He doesn't hold back. Not anymore, not when you made it abundantly clear how you feel; what you want.

Fingers seeking the buttons on your pants, swiftly unzipping the zipper and tugging both your pants and undergarments down your thighs. Until they lock your knees together. His fingers graze your folds and you feel him hiss under his nose. Fingertip tracing your opening, feeling the slippery wetness, Gojo doesn't hesitate to push one finger in.

And your body eagerly sucks him in. Allows him to thrust his finger in and out repeatedly, making your fingers dig into the cushion, lips parted and shamelessly moaning with hips bucking back, meeting his thrusts. Until he adds another finger, scissors them inside and opens you up.

"Fuck," you hear him breathe out, his hand sneaking from your shoulder blades to your hip, venturing beneath your shirt to caress the exposed skin, "you always sound so pretty. Feel so good."

"Shut up," you scoff at his words, voice laced with disdain, "just–ugh," his fingers curl inside, massaging your walls in harmony with the hand on your hip, tracing tantalizing circles, "ah–just don't–don't talk," and you arch your hips backward, prompting his fingers to delve deeper. Palm completely covering your soaked cunt.

"Don't care," you add when he continues the rhythm. In and out, stretching the limits of your resilience, scissoring to accommodate something far more substantial.

"As you wish," he withdraws. Fingers glistening with your juices. And you can feel the dewy slickness spreading as he toys with your pulsating clit, circling the throbbing bud, causing you to clench around empty air. Every nerve ending in your body awakens, dormant embers being stoked; heat blooming inside.

Then he presses himself against you, hands grasping your shoulder to pull you onto his body as he hovers over you. The close proximity allowing you to feel the hard length of him, thick and pushy, begging for entry.

"Stop teasing," you practically growl at him, an annoyed command laden with unrestrained desire.

"Fine," Gojo lets out a husky huff in response to your impatient plea. Pushing your upper body down, nearly bending you over the plush cushion until your forehead meets the silky surface of his furniture. You can hear the unmistakable sound of him unzipping his own pants, the slide of the zipper seemingly never-ending as your pussy leaks onto your thighs, mind of its own; tugs them down just enough for him to fish out his cock. All hard and swollen, the engorged tip glistening with the telltale evidence of his arousal.

One hand palms your pussy, collecting your juices to spread over his cock. Lube it enough for him to slip inside your awaiting walls easily. Yet he hovers over your entrance, tip kissing the opening before running between your folds. Gojo lets out a sigh upon the long-lost feeling of your wet pussy.

It's been too long.

He wants to savor it. Savor the moment your drenched pussy opens up just for him. Swallows him whole and lock him in, never letting him go.

"Gojo," you push back, hoping that maybe it will cause him to slip in – it doesn't. Instead, the tip of his cock probs at your clit, "fuck me."

"You never shut up, heh," his hand secures the back of your neck, the other guiding his cock to your entrance, feeling you open up around the mushroom head, letting a satisfied moan out upon the feeling.

Gojo doesn't bother. At least he shouldn't, right? It's not like he's your lover. You aren't his paramour no more.

But he does take his time. Every inch a struggle, every second a torture. Until finally you feel yourself split open, the tightest of knots unraveling, and then he's thrusting deep, pushing into you with force. Your body welcomes him, contouring to his shape, embracing him fully. His breath comes out in a rush and you're soon meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hips pushing back.

Blood rushes to your head; bend at an unconventional enough angle that allows him to hit the deepest spots inside you. He pulls back then, his cock easily sliding out of your embrace until only the tip remains inside the cocoon of your warmth. Stretching your inner walls in a way that makes you feel dizzy, mind foggy. Fucked stupid.

Your moans are muffled by the couch cushion, but Gojo pays no attention; his focus solely on chasing his own high, eyes closed to draw your presence out. His thrusts become more powerful and insistent as each one hits its mark with precision.

Your name refuses to leave his lips.

Yet his name sounds like a sacred incantation spilling from your throat.

It makes him push. Hips slamming into yours with enough force to actually send you over the couch's edge; causing you to stumble.

"What the f–"

"Lie down," he commands. Stone-cold and demanding. Your body moves on its own accord as you do what you're told, lying flat on your stomach as his hand guides your body up his couch. Face sinking into the decorative pillows, he lies his weight on top of you without shame. Elbow resting next to your head, fingers tangled in your hair – pushing your face into the pillows.

Slamming his cock back inside, a surprised shriek leaves your lips. His legs on either side of your thighs, one arm holding his upper body slightly off you, the other gripping your hip, fingers biting crescent moons into your flesh.

His breath's hot against your neck, coming out in quick gasps and grunts, the growl in his throat driving you wild and you're not sure how much longer you can take it before you beg for it –

"Fuuck–so tight–ngh–"

His hand is everywhere while yours remain tucked underneath the pillows; nails tracing their way around sensitive skin and curves like a map of pleasure points.

– so you bite your lip. Face flushed against the couch's cushions. Feeling yourself cresting towards the edge. He hitches a breath as your moan’s muffled beneath the pillows, his own rhythm faltering before he plunges deeper.

"M’gettin’ close–"

You can feel the heat radiating from him, sweat dripping down your neck as he takes you higher, presses his forehead against your nape. Heat rises to your face as you feel yourself dripping. Acutely aware of yourself, the slick, shameful squelches that resonate each time Gojo plunges deep inside. Buries himself to the hilt. Pelvis melting with the curve of your ass. Smacks his balls against your thighs.

The air feels thick and stifling as you feel Gojo everywhere. Your entire being consumed by the feverish desire coursing through your veins.

His thrusts become more intense, almost frenzied as he searches for something only he knows and finds it in your body. You're so close now, the pleasure so sweet that it's almost overwhelming.

You swear it feels like an eternity before finally your orgasm rushes over you like an unstoppable tide; overwhelming every single one of your senses as he continues to thrust deep within you. Your entire body quaking beneath him, pulled even closer into him by some invisible force.

Gojo finally lets go with a loud groan and collapses onto your back; leaving him panting heavily against your neck while his cock remains firmly embedded inside of you for a few moments more, painting your walls in translucent white before slowly slipping out with a wet sound akin to pure satisfaction.

You lay there unmoving for some time; eyes closed and lips pressed tight together as if to contain all the pleasure of this moment forevermore in one single solitary heartbeat – before reality comes crashing back in around you both in an instant, making Gojo pull away.

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subhumanselflover · 6 months ago

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hello mar I would like to request a Testament x reader oneshot where the two cuddle on the couch please.

note: hello, coming right up anon! i can very much channel testament into my writing today bc i had a tea party today (well. yesterday as i prepare to actually post this), ehehe :3 also i'm throwing references to testament having a job in this one bc i think it's so funny that they're canonly a construction worker. okay anyway please enjoy!

Testament x Reader, Cuddle-bug.

If there was anything on Testament's mind throughout their day today, it was you. All through their work day, they found themself humming a song that you had showed them a while ago. When you told them that the song had reminded you of them, they fell in love with the rhythm almost as fast as they had fallen in love with you. All they wanted to do was curl up with you in their arms.

So, when the time came that they were able to leave work and come home to you, they quickly made their way to your residence. You had the day off, so you spent a good bit of the day cleaning your space, which left you a tad tired. Keys jingled outside the door, and the sound of the door opening alerted you to Testament's arrival.

As they came to find you, you were swiftly greeted with a gentle embrace and a quick peck on the lips. "Darling of mine, I missed you so." The greeting was so dramatic that it would have sounded insincere from anyone else, but in that loving tone, they truly meant it. You couldn't help but giggle, nonetheless. They had already placed their bags down and slipped their shoes off, and in one of the bags, they had brought home takeout for you both. With knowing that you planned on busying yourself today, they knew that you wouldn't quite feel like cooking tonight, and frankly, neither did they.

"I shall be right back, my dear. Oh, dinner's on the kitchen counter, feel free to eat without me if I take too long," They stated before shuffling off to the bathroom to go take a post-work shower and change into comfortable clothes. You kept yourself occupied as you awaited their return, listening to the flow of water, and the muffled music that they listened to while they showered.

Coming back to the living room in a much more comfortable, yet still elegant-looking outfit, they were surprised to see you hadn't eaten yet. "Dearest, you didn't have to wait for me," They almost seemed to pout as they said this, and it was a little cute to you. A piece of evidence that someone who was once so cold had become so warm. You shrugged, and supposed aloud that you were fine to wait, as long as it was for them.

You ate at the kitchen table, chatting, sharing a meal, taking pieces of each other's meals of choice, talking about each other's days. It was domestic, comfortable..

And now that you both found yourselves comfortably full, you were curled up on the couch together. It had been their turn to pick a movie to watch, so here you were, criticizing a B-movie together. But as the movie's mediocrity proved itself, they wanted to pay more attention to you. The two of you had already been curled up together, with you sitting on Testament's lap, held gently in their arms, their nails tapping against your skin every so often.

Shifting themselves carefully, they pulled you closer, their carefully toned arms wrapped around your waist. Warmth radiated between the two of you, as the movie you were watching slowly turned into a droning sort of background noise. Their was an undeniable calm in this moment, a comfortable silence taking over between you two. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be.

Holding you close to them, Testament moved a hand to run their fingers through your hair, lightly scratching over your scalp. Stopping for a moment, they cupped your face and held it. With not much of a choice, you looked at them, making a curious noise, wondering what this was for.

“You are so, so very precious to me. I love you,” Their tone was laced with genuine affection as they held your face. Leaning in, they gave you a loving little kiss, then patted the side of your face, before pulling you to their chest. You couldn’t help but feel lucky as you shared their warmth, and shared this space with them.

#Testament x Reader #testament guilty gear #guilty gear x reader

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yukidragon · 11 months ago

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Sunny Day Jack - Dragon Jack Fantasy AU Headcanons

So, I know that Jack’s fursona is a snake, because he wants warm cuddles his sunshine won’t run away from, which is where we get naga Jack, but what if he was a different sort of mythical creature?

No, not an incubus, but you can check out my incubus headcanons here and here. I’m talking about a different fantastical creature that still has a few scaly features.

It’s the year of the dragon, and that got me thinking about a certain piece of absolutely gorgeous artwork my friend Mars made back in August, which in turn made me think, dragon Jack AU?

Dragon Jack AU.

Oh hell yeah, let’s get fantastical.

Credit for this beautiful artwork and fueling my inspiration goes to the marvelous Mars, who you can find over here on tumblr and on twitter. Please consider popping on by to leave a kind word or two. Trust me, you won’t regret looking at all of her jaw-droppingly stunning art!

Content warnings: There is going to be spice in these headcanons, and it’s going to get a bit kinky at times. I mean, we’re talking about Jack as a dragon getting frisky with his sunshine. Bad Dragon didn’t get its name for nothing after all. Oh and there’s also some dark themes like going insane from isolation, families being awful to one another, exploitation of workers, bullshit politics in a medieval inspired fantasy setting, deadly monsters attacking people, yandere obsession, that sort of thing.

Overall it’s going to be pretty lighthearted, especially in comparison to the super dark and angst-filled hurt/comfort story that I recently posted, so this post shouldn’t get more intense than the game itself.

The Cursed Prince

Let us begin this AU with the tale of Sunny Day Jack, a poor soul who was damned to be left alone and forgotten by all who knew him. In this case, that place he was left to be forgotten was a castle in the middle of a dark and twisted land, bound by a curse that not even the strength of a dragon can break.

Jack wasn’t always this way. Long ago, he was someone grand, a prince by the name of Joseph, though not in line for any sort of throne. He was the spare of the spare, the unwanted and unneeded family member who was a risk to the true heir to the crown. He had to learn how to be strong and cunning to survive the castle politics, while at the same time he was overlooked and ignored by all.

Initially, Joseph tried all he could to earn favor with his family, to be loved by them, but no one cared. Because his family didn’t care about him, and he had no “purpose” in existing except as an obstacle to the heir to the throne, others often ignored him as well to not risk showing favor and appearing to side with him against the current forerunners to the crown. Acting out and creating mischief that the royal family couldn’t ignore was the only way for Joseph to get people to pay attention to him.

Unfortunately, Joseph pushed his luck one too many times. He ignored a family member’s warning that it would be best if he lived as a dead rat, forgotten and unseen. An assassin struck in the guise of a tutor during one of his lessons. He barely escaped, but uncovered a terrible truth. The family he always hoped might someday truly see him and love him had been behind the assassination attempt. How many members of his family were involved in the plot, he never knew for sure, but their indifference and disdain for him left him with no one he could trust.

The unwanted prince was then forced to flee the kingdom, never to return. Joseph lived as a wanderer, hiding his identity. He changed his appearance as much as he could, even stealing a potion from a wizard once. Sadly, the potion he stole could only change his hair from brown to blue, but it was better than nothing, and he quickly grew fond of the look.

Yes, blue hair is something natural in this setting. This is a fantasy world where dragons and magic exist after all. We can have people with anime hair and eye colors. ;3

The unwanted prince learned the ways of the world firsthand and took many names as he drifted along like the wind. No longer a spoiled prince, he learned how to put on a smile, to placate people instead of antagonize them. He was still alone, forced to be a wanderer until he was far, far away from his homeland, but eventually he tried to set up roots. There, he took a humble job as a jester for a noble, hoping that maybe he could find a new life, one where he could be seen and loved.

Fortune smiled on Jack, as more and more people came to watch his shows, and he earned the stage name of Sunny Day Jack. His performances with silly jokes and stories with sound moral lessons delighted the children. Nobility took notice of him, and he started to make real connections and a real life for himself in this distant land. The lord ruling over the country even eventually took notice of him, a rich and powerful ruler that could afford to throw plenty of gold this entertaining jester’s way… provided he was always entertaining.

Sadly, his good fortune was not to last. Jack got too much attention from the nobility, and a traveler familiar with his homeland took notice of how eerily similar the jester looked to the lost prince.

Word eventually got back to those who saw Prince Joseph, however unwanted and overlooked he may have been, as a risk that could not be accepted. His popularity, however frivolous, made certain people of power nervous that perhaps one day he might return and lay claim to the throne of his homeland.

It was during a performance that the world came crashing down around Sunny Day Jack. The lord that favored him and helped him most with his fame and acclaim had betrayed him to his homeland in exchange for more riches. The trap was sprung as Jack stood before a crowd of hundreds, a sudden accusation ringing out that he was a notorious criminal who had done several heinous acts while the knights of the land came at him in force to arrest him. He barely managed to escape, though not unscathed, his new life destroyed and forever sullied to all who knew his name.

This time the pursuers were relentless. Jack wasn’t known here as a prince in this foreign land. There was no one who would show even a token loyalty to his royal blood and aid him. He was now a heinous criminal, wanted dead or alive, with none willing to give him shelter. There was no way for him to use his former name or royal bloodline to gain assistance, as Prince Joseph was long since declared dead.

Jack was a clever man, and a clever man who has nothing left to lose is capable of anything, including mutually assured destruction. His time as a jester wasn’t spent as a simple fool. Though he tried to be sincere when forging his friendships, truly wanting a life of happiness where he could be loved for who he was, he had tasted betrayal once, and it cost him everything but his life. Sadly, he was prepared should this happen again. He learned how to be charming, and he used his appealing and kind nature to learn secrets that might help him one day.

One of these secrets Jack learned was of magic treasure that the lord’s family guarded and exploited for generations. He also learned of a few secret passages in the lord’s castle, which helped him to elude his pursuers. With nearly all the knights put to the task to capture or kill the escaped criminal, this left the castle vault’s security unusually lax. It granted him an opportunity that could save him, or damn them all.

There in the vault was one of a set of golden cuffs, the symbol and pride of the lord’s family, and the very thing that allowed them to take dominion over the land generations ago and rule to this day. These cuffs were said to possess a magic too powerful for any one person to control, so no one dared to wield more than one at a time, but the truth was that if anyone was foolish enough to do so, they would unleash a terrible curse that would doom the land. This was why they were kept separately, for the safety of everyone.

These cuffs have their own history to them, as a fae was tricked into creating them, a bargain for power and a price not yet paid, which was the reason behind their curse. I could ramble on about ideas I have for how they came to be, but their backstory doesn’t really matter to Jack… yet.

Betrayed, branded a criminal, his hopes for a new life dashed to pieces, and everything spiraling out of control, Jack managed to break into the vault and steal the golden cuff hidden there. Before word of the theft could spread, Jack repaid the lord for his betrayal, launching a surprise attack and stealing the other cuff before it could be used by the lord to fight back against him.

With the power of both of the golden cuffs, Jack defeated all the knights that came for him, but the power he used went out of control as the curse took hold. The power was too much for a human’s body to contain, so it changed him into a fierce creature that was made of magic, a dragon.

The land around him changed as well, the natural ley lines of magic in the land exploding out in all directions and birthing all sorts of monsters from cracks in the earth. It was chaos, and those that could fled. It was a terrible night of horrors so great that survivors who witnessed the apocalyptic destruction dared not speak of it. Over time, the plants in this tainted land grew strange from the saturation of magic, and what few animals that braved to remain in this twisted land were changed as well. The land, once prosperous and full of smiles and laughter, became a dark and foreboding place where humans refused to linger long, for fear that they too would be cursed and forever changed.

Years passed, and with the survivors refusing to speak of what happened, all traces of what happened the night the kingdom fell were lost to history. The name of the country was lost as well. The place was only known as the dark woods now, named for its twisted features and the heavy clouds that covered the land and hid it from the sun. Speculation of its creation sprang up over the years, the details growing more fanciful from storyteller to storyteller until it became only myths. The closest to the truth was that the fae had regained the land and turned it wild, which, in a way, they had when a clever but desperate prince turned fool unleashed the fae’s curse that had long been kept at bay.

What happened to that foolish prince? The curse kept him bound to the heart of the land, making it nearly impossible for him to stray far from the castle where he unleashed the curse. The more he struggled to escape, the more ways the curse would manifest to bind him to the land, chains erupting from the ground to hold him, thorns of an unnatural, cold substance blotting out the sky, monsters birthing from the land to hold him back and inflict pain on him until he could no longer fight back.

Jack had become a powerful dragon, but his power came from the very curse that turned the land into his own personal hell. His body was warped, a scaled monster with wings and horns, terrifying to behold. Those who saw him would flee his presence, save for those that tried to slay the beast that legend has it is the heart of the curse.

The dragon of the dark woods, unnamed and feared by all, was known as the master of the dark woods, dangerous and cunning. Adventurers that dare risk going into the cursed land for its materials rich in magic are wary of the great and powerful beast. Its scales gleamed of fire, its eyes spoke of endless hunger, and its power was unmatched. None could hope to slay this beast, and all who tried all failed, for only the curse itself is more powerful than the beast it created.

Despite it all, Jack struggled to hold onto his humanity. He read every book in the castle, every scroll and scrap of paper, desperate to learn the way to undo this curse he unleashed. Naturally, this was difficult for him to do with giant claws, but unfortunately for the former prince, he had nothing but time to learn how to use his altered body.

As the world forgot about the lost prince, the sunny jester, and the awful day an entire kingdom fell along with the names of all three, Jack started to forget his humanity bit by bit. He didn’t learn how to break the curse, but he did learn of other magical artifacts that had been gathered in the castle long ago, including an enchanted belt that would allow him to change his form into whatever he pleased. He used it to become a “human,” but by that point he didn’t quite remember what he used to look like. The passing years eroded his memory of humanity, and he had gotten used to his imposing dragon body. The result was a form that was a mishmash of both, a humanoid man with scales, a tail, wings, claws on his hands and feet, pointed ears and fangs, with horns and blue hair.

Jack might have started to forget things over the years of solitude, but he was at least certain that he had blue hair when he was still human.

Funny enough, no matter how large or small Jack became thanks to the magic of the belt, the golden cuffs remained fastened to his wrists. The curse wouldn’t allow them to be removed, only warp in size and shape to match whatever form his body took. Even if he were to, say, transform into a copy of a different person to fool someone, his golden cuffs would give away the ruse.

When Jack learned how to transform back into a “human,” he went through the motions of being a human in his empty castle filled with riches that were all but useless to him. He wore clothes again, even learned how to alter the fancy clothes left behind to suit his tastes. He learned how to cook the strange plants and animals of this cursed land. He no longer had any need to eat due to the magic of the land sustaining his flesh, but food still tasted good, and there was some satisfaction to be had from creating something. He kept himself sane with what hobbies he could, learning new things, but he could never learn how he could free himself from his lonely hell.

The presence of adventurers into the heart of his land was both a blessing and a curse. It was rare that it happened, and in fact it was several years after the land changed that anyone dared to venture into the dark woods for fear of being cursed for doing so. It was years more before they found its master at the heart of the cursed land.

At first, Jack was elated. He tried his best to be friendly, overly so, desperate for company and help, but this was before he found the belt that made him at least passably human. It had been so long since he had been around another human that he hadn’t tried to speak, and with his draconic muzzle, all that came out were terrible growls and unholy noises. The adventurers that found him only saw a great horned beast with claws and fangs, another monster to slay for materials, riches, and acclaim.

Jack never wanted to kill anyone. He learned to fight when he had to, though he tried to avoid killing if he could. Unfortunately, when he unleashed the curse, people perished in the chaos, much to his dismay. Though he tried to approach these adventurers peacefully, he would not allow them to cause him further suffering. His power was so great that it was difficult to hold back, so the damage he could cause was severe. He would let those who fought him live if he could, allowing them to flee, but none saw this as a mercy. He became a nightmare spoken in hushed whispers, a challenge for adventurers to overcome, rather than a lost soul desperate to be free.

In a twisted way, over time Jack started to look forward to anyone brave enough to venture into the heart of the dark woods, even if the result was always violence. It was always a rare thing due to the intense danger of the dark woods. Certainly, they would always try to kill him, but at least he got to spend time with another human being! Being alone messes with a person’s mind, especially for such a long time. Humans are pack animals not meant for solitude.

Sometimes these adventurers would leave stuff behind, and Jack kept them. Dragons have an instinct to horde, and the castle is already filled with treasure. Plus they were reminders that humans were still out there and that someday, hopefully, he’d join them as one of them once again.

Jack tried his best to learn how to talk with his new body, to sound friendly instead of fierce. Unfortunately, oftentimes he found himself getting the opposite result, the words coming out of his muzzle sounding strange and uncanny, which only added to the nightmarish legend of the master of the dark woods.

Every encounter with Jack was a battle more fierce than the last, and the dragon’s legend only grew. His attempts to follow after the humans who fled from him led to the land itself stopping him, and others would be caught in the crossfire. To Jack, the humans that came to visit him were his only hope, and he would struggle harder against the curse to escape, to be with them. This made the curse fight back even harder in more brutal ways, summoning worse monsters. Soon the heart of the dark woods was known as a hellish place, where the land itself would turn against you if you tried to escape its brutal master that hunted you relentlessly.

Over the years, humans adapted, as they often do. Adventurers learned to stick with the outer fringes of the dark woods to harvest materials. It was the least dangerous, relatively speaking, and what could be gained deeper in was not worth the cost, especially if they strayed to the heart of the land where its terrible master lay in wait for any poor soul to enter.

It’s been a long, long time since Jack has seen another human, and he’s slowly going insane from solitude. He does what he can to distract himself or escape, trying desperately to hold onto his humanity, but it erodes bit by bit with each passing year. Even gaining the ability to transform into a “human” form hasn’t stopped his ever steady decline into madness. He fears that one day he might lose his humanity completely and become the mindless monster that those who fought him believed him to be.

Perhaps all that Jack and the dark woods need to heal is a little bit of sunshine.

Beyond the Dark Woods

Outside the fringes of the cursed land, time marched on. Years went by, rulers came and went, borders changed as land was annexed or reverted to wilderness. A lot can happen over the decades, especially in a fantasy world filled with magic, monsters, and mischievous fae.

How long Jack was trapped alone in the dark woods is a mystery. Maybe it’s 40 years, or perhaps a lot longer than that.

Regardless, the homeland that once had a lost prince named Joseph is still around, a relatively stable country all things considered. In fact, it had grown over the years thanks to annexing land from other countries that had been weakened by the results of the curse. Monsters often wandered out of the dark woods, putting nearby villages in danger and impressing the need for more adventurers to cull the monsters that threatened human life. What was once a kingdom had grown into an empire, growing prosperous with its many strong knights and adventurers, though like any place, it had its own share of problems.

But enough politics, let’s get into the other characters, shall we?

MC is a knight, as demonstrated by the lovely Thea in Mars’ art. Well… they aspire to be a knight anyway. Bullshit politics have kept them as a squire to a knight of higher nobility since they were a teenager. It’s been over 10 years already! How much longer do they have to wait to become a knight? They’re sick of having to polish and shine Barry’s armor, and if they have to scrub his codpiece one more time…

Yup, Barry is a knight in this AU, though only technically. Nobility sometimes get granted a knight title for some reason or another, usually as a token to honor them and/or their families. These nobles usually were just knights in name only, parading around as if they’re this grand figure when other knights did the real battling. They can play the hero without ever actually having to go into battle and send squires to do the menial work for them.

In a sense, Barry is a rich man who bought a title because it was cool, and he makes a big show of it. It’s pretty much a vanity project, and a way to increase his clout to maybe move up in the ranks of nobility. He has MC announce his presence grandly, something just as over the top as the greeting to Yogurtopia. Perhaps something like… “Announcing the great, honorable, and very handsome and still very single and looking for a bride, Sir Barry of [insert surname here].” Or something like that, maybe with his noble title thrown in there for good measure. Maybe he could insist his squire plays a horn first…

Man, even with a proclamation heralding Barry wherever he goes, no one is interested in him. He hasn’t had a date in way too long. Maybe he needs his armor to be polished a little brighter.

While MC isn’t Barry’s only squire, they are the one often left doing the work, as other squires slack off or wind up getting elevated to knight despite being younger than MC is. It’s understandably really, really frustrating for MC. They come from a lesser noble house, just barely above a commoner, so they’re an easy mark for any higher ranked noble to rub the power difference in their face.

Really, it’s all enough to make MC consider quitting to become an adventurer. Sure, adventurers are basically mercenaries for hire at the guild and the jobs can be infrequent, and money can be hard to come by, but… Ah, who are they kidding? The squire job might suck, but at least they get the security of steady pay, regular meals, a place to sleep, mild prestige, and they don’t have to go camping in the woods for days on end hunting some specific monster or harvesting a certain number of rare herbs.

Besides, MC admires the knights (aside from Barry). Their best friend became a knight a few years ago, lucky dog. Still, Shaun didn’t rub it in their face like the pal he is. Shaun looks so regal in his shiny silvery armor, even having it adorned with pretty badass etchings and other decorations. There’s a very feline feeling to it as well, since cat daddy has to be cat knight in this AU. Hey, I don’t make the rules.

…Oh, wait. :3c

Anyway, the other knights can be pretty cool as well. There’s this one knight who has been friendly, though MC doesn’t know his name yet. The guy acts strangely shy when they’re around, which is confusing to them. They’re just a squire after all, not a cool knight in studded leather armor like him.

Poor Nick has a crush on MC in this universe too and is pretty tongue tied around them. MC might still be a squire, but there’s just something about them that lights up a room. Their spirit isn’t crushed despite the fact that they should’ve been a knight years ago. He envies how easily Sir Shaun can chat with them.

Of course, Shaun is in the same boat as Nick, in that he also has a crush on MC and can be pretty clumsy with how he tries to express it. Still, in spite of this, he would have tried to see if they could be something more if not for a certain scandal that happened.

The reason why MC is still a squire, or at least one of the biggest reasons, is because of rumors that they were the secret lover of Prince Ian, the current heir to the throne.

Of course, given that MC is barely above a commoner, the idea of them getting together with the crown prince is scandalous. They got to know each other as children, with MC serving as a page to play with the young prince. When the queen caught wind that the prince saw them as anything more than a playmate in their teen years, their relationship got exceedingly strained.

Ian is in love with MC, and they felt the same, at least at one point. All the time they spent together while growing up led to fondness, then sweet first love. Unfortunately, they knew early on how their different stations meant that the chances of them being together were almost non-existent. This led to a lot of mutual pining, moments where they were tempted to act on their feelings, and some secret encounters between the two.

In spite of the queen’s interference separating them, MC and Ian saw each other in secret as much as they could. They started a forbidden romance together, and the two of them convinced themselves that maybe, somehow, they could defy the odds.

But the weight of the crown hangs heavy on the head. As Ian was swept up in his duties and the time he would be crowned as king drew ever closer, he had less and less time to spend with MC. His mother’s interference certainly didn’t help, especially since she was trying to get him engaged to a high ranked noble woman to ensure that he would be able to sire the next generation of royalty.

While yes this fantasy world is far more open with gender expression and loving others regardless of gender, nobles tend to be uptight when it comes to making sure their bloodline and power continues. Plus Ian’s mom is still abusive and controlling of her son in this universe too, and she uses not only religion to bully Ian but politics and duty as well. As queen, she has a lot more power too, and a lot more flying monkeys to spy on her son and interfere.

In a way, it’s lucky that the queen hasn’t decided that MC is a threat that must be entirely eliminated at all costs. No assassination plots… yet. Mostly it’s interference and petty revenge by forcing MC to remain a squire instead of a knight. She could throw MC out, but then how can she occasionally be petty if MC never comes to the palace? MC might be Barry’s squire, but everyone follows the queen’s orders, and a narcissist needs attention and others to bow down to them.

Unfortunately, the queen’s schemes did succeed. Ian, in a moment of weakness, fell for the seductive charms of one of his potential fiancees. He felt awful for betraying MC, to the point that he had to see them despite the risk of his mother catching them, so that he could confess what he had done and beg for forgiveness.

MC’s heart was broken, but what was worse was that it became a huge scandal. Someone had seen Ian’s confession and begging, and soon word spread like wildfire. Now everyone knew that they had secretly been lovers and that the prince was begging a mere squire for forgiveness. Ian’s reputation took a hit, while MC’s outright tanked due to the scandal, and things became much harder for them, and people have been keeping their distance from the squire that dared think they could become a future king’s consort.

Since then, MC has kept their distance from Ian as much as possible, and Ian, reluctantly, has given them space, knowing that he’s messed everything up for them. But… when he’s king, not even his mother will be able to stop them from being together. When he’s king, he’ll be able to fix everything. He just has to do what he can to make sure that happens. Then he and MC can finally be together in the open, stations be damned! Then he can truly make amends and be forgiven for what he’s done.

Shaun was there to support MC with their broken heart. While his becoming a knight has put a bit of distance between them, as he has more duties to attend to, including being sent away on missions for the country, he makes sure to keep in touch and meet up with them as best he can. Anyone who dares to say a bad word about MC in front of him is getting this cat’s claws.

Nick is no stranger to scandals. He’s basically the most popular knight in the realm, with countless admirers. Perhaps they could offer MC a word or two on how to deal with so much unwanted attention and rumors rumbling in the background.

A Squire’s Quest

Now, how does Jack factor into MC’s life without a compelling VHS tape to tie them together? Well, the instigating factor in this universe is that a thief made off with an important treasure, and Barry the knight was tasked with retrieving it. As Barry’s squire, MC was compelled to come with him to assist, which usually meant doing 99% of the work if there were no other squires with them at the time with Barry taking all the credit. But don’t worry, he only does it because he knows they’ll do a good job at it, and it just shows that they’re one step closer to becoming a true knight!

After traveling quite a ways, tracking down the thief (with MC doing most of the work picking up the trail in the first place), the pair realize that the thief went into the infamous dark woods.

Well, that’s not good. Sure there are areas that have been explored for materials, but still… the cursed land is quite dangerous. Barry decided that the best way to divide the work is for MC to continue to follow the thief’s trail, as they were better at tracking, and he, being much better at supervising and dealing with people, would see if anyone nearby could get information about what the thief might have been after, maybe set up a trap that MC could chase the thief into.

MC had to seriously consider their life choices up until this point, but if they quit now, that meant kissing goodbye to the stability they had going for them. Also, it’d probably bring dishonor to their name, maybe damage their lineage permanently, and so on and so forth.

Well, if they quit to become an adventurer, they’d have to do stupid things like trek through the dark woods anyway. Besides, the thief already stole a national treasure, which meant they weren’t stupid enough to go hunting for the invincible dragon guarding the heart of the forest, right? Sure there’s rumors that maybe the dragon guards the greatest treasure of all, but no way the thief is that dumb. No one’s actually ever seen any real treasure, or have a consensus on what the supposed greatest treasure is actually supposed to be.

After a hard internal debate, MC ultimately decides to brave the dark woods, tracking the thief stealthily. They may only be a squire, but they would probably be the greatest knight in the kingdom if not for politics. Their exact combat style is up to interpretation and personal preference, but they’re no stranger to slaying powerful monsters. They’re also used to Barry giving them unreasonable demands like this one.

And, hey, at least they’re not mortifying themselves by singing Barry’s praises when he enters a room while they’re busy with this stupid quest. That’s got to count for something, right?

Right?

Yeeeahh, okay, MC is obviously just lying to themselves and they know it, but damned if they do, damned if they don’t. They swear to themselves that they’ll only go as far as the hunting expeditions usually travel into the forest. If the thief really is stupid enough to go to the dragon’s lair, MC will just circle back and just tell Barry that the dragon probably just killed the thief, or something. No way they’re going to risk getting eaten by an unstoppable dragon.

These thoughts are a small comfort as MC follows the thief’s trail. Occasionally they have to fight magic-tainted plants or monsters. Their skill shines despite the dark gloom of cursed woods. They even get some nice materials they can sell for some extra cash. Maybe being an adventurer wouldn’t be too bad a gig after all…

Just then the loud noise breaks the eerie calm. Some sort of explosion. Magic? Fireworks? Regardless of what it was, it riled up something. That something is big, nasty, and charging right at them! In fact, it’s a lot of somethings! A pack of creatures got aggravated, and MC is forced to run!

Now, was this a natural occurrence? A bit of misfortune? Did the thief make a false trail to trick MC into going on ahead while they secretly doubled back and used a small explosion to make the monsters go nuts on MC while they used the commotion as a cover to make their escape?

Perhaps. Perhaps. MC certainly isn’t in a situation to figure out which of these possibilities it was at the moment though, as they’re too busy running for their life, inwardly cursing Barry, the queen, the thief, and anyone else that annoyed them lately. If they knew they would die today, they wouldn’t have held back last week when that one jerk stole their cinnamon roll. They would’ve at least had the satisfaction of telling them off for it!

Sarcasm and sass are a good way to cope, but MC knows full well the gravity of their situation. They quickly lose the trail back the way they came, forced to do battle with creatures that are in their path while avoiding being overwhelmed by being so outnumbered. It’s only through a mixture of skill and sheer dumb luck that they manage to survive.

And by dumb luck, I mean that they fell into a catacomb through a ruined ceiling that was keeping it hidden underground.

Well, shit. From bad to worse, right?

Nothing for it, MC is forced to find a way out of the catacombs, then somehow find a way to leave the dark woods without another group of monsters going aggro on them.

Piece of cake. Noooo problem. They just have to avoid the castle at the center of the dark woods that the dragon supposedly uses as its lair, and they’re fine. An old crypt with some undead ready to pop out is better than an unstoppable dragon. Right?

As you may have guessed, MC is, in fact, going in the direction of our lonely dragon prince. Is it just bad luck? Is it some sort of intuition or instinct drawing them to Jack? Are they bound together by fate? Is it some sort of spell Jack has cast that compels humans to seek him out because it’s been forever since a human came by, and he’s desperate for both company and freedom? Maybe some combination of these things or something else entirely. Who’s to say~? It’s up to interpretation/personal headcanon~

In any case, MC is very taken aback when they meet Jack face to face for the first time, as is Jack really. It’s been so long since he’s seen someone. A part of him wonders if MC is actually real. When they get defensive and try to figure out who or what he is, he does his best to placate them, even if they might have their weapon out and ready for battle.

Jack puts his best foot forward, being friendly and welcoming. He invites MC to his home. They look exhausted and like they’ve had a hard time. MC isn’t exactly trusting this at face value, being very guarded about the whole exchange despite how cheerful and friendly this man with wings and horns is being. He’s also getting dangerously close. Should they try to use their weapon to ward him off, like Thea might have done with her sword, Jack is skilled enough in combat by this point to easily redirect her sword with his claws.

Oops, that put Thea off balance. Don’t worry, her new pal Jack is quick to catch her before she takes a tumble.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt, would we?” Jack said, his tone playful.

Despite MC’s skills, they are hopelessly outmatched by Jack. He has far more experience with combat, and he has the insane powers that the curse granted him.

Of course, MC is pretty quick to put together that Jack is the invincible dragon that rules the dark woods, which means that they’re utterly screwed. Strangely enough, Jack isn’t really acting like the monster people whisper about. It’s almost enough to make MC wonder if they aren’t mistaken, but the dragon features and his overwhelming strength kind of gives it away. The fact that Jack brings MC back to his castle pretty much seals the deal.

So MC is stuck as a guest with Jack. The dark woods are too dangerous for humans to wander around alone, especially at the heart of the forest. He’s curious about MC and why they would take such a risk, very concerned by their recklessness. Why were they there?

It’s an awkward situation, but MC has no choice but to play along. How much they resist or comply depends on the MC. I figure Jack indulges even a very resistant MC due to how lonely he’s been. He can easily disarm any attempts to attack him or thwart them from getting away, so they pose no threat. He has all the time in the world to convince MC to lower their guard.

And Jack is just so… so nice. It’s hard not to find him charming. He seems so concerned about MC, and they’ve been having such a hard time with, well… everything. The castle, despite being old, has been maintained decently well. The rooms are decorated so nicely, filled with clothes for them to wear, and the food Jack makes is fantastic. Holy crap, his cooking is out of this world!

Really, the longer MC stays there, the more it seems like there’s nothing Jack can’t do, and their stay is kind of like a vacation in ways. Given how much time he’s had to teach himself new things, it’s no wonder he has become something of a jack-of-all-trades.

I make no apologies for that pun.

Here then comes the classic conundrum when it comes to Jack - does MC fall for his charms, or remain suspicious and hold him at arm’s length? They’ve been feeling pretty lonely and beaten down by life for a while now, and Jack seems almost too good to be true. It’s not like he’s keeping them captive, but they’re in the heart of the dark woods. Outside this castle are some of the worst, most dangerous monsters imaginable. Jack can protect MC if they stay there in the castle with him, but he can’t go very far from the castle, so he can’t help them leave the woods. That is why he’s keeping them from leaving the castle. You know, aside from not wanting to lose the only company he’s had in so many years.

Jack is right about the danger, unfortunately. Whether MC tries to slip away from the castle or just scopes out the surroundings via a window, they find that it’s surrounded by monsters far too dangerous for them to handle alone. There’s no way they could make it, and if they tried, they’d only survive thanks to Jack coming to their rescue.

Of course, Jack acknowledges that MC is powerful. He saw them try to attack him if he did, or he just can tell in simply because they made it all this way on their own. It’s just, well, there’s only so much anyone can do on their own. Sometimes we all need a friend to help us out.

If Jack could leave, then he could help MC leave too, but he’s stuck in the castle. He’s been there for such a long, long time.

Whether his tragic plight is enough to make MC sympathize is, of course, up to the individual. I do know my gal Alice is going to want to help him after hearing him out. Being trapped in this awful place by a curse is a fate she wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Not to mention helping Jack would help MC leave the dark woods. There’s no threat he can’t handle after all. They’d be getting their own personal dragon bodyguard.

Perhaps with a pair of fresh eyes and more knowledge of the state of the world, MC will have better luck figuring out how to free Jack from the curse. Maybe they’ll just play along to not upset their super powerful host so they can escape. It would certainly take time for MC to really trust Jack, even if he seems so friendly and kind… and, they have to admit, this place is lonely and very unsettling for anyone to stay in, even if Jack has tried his best to make it look nice. It’s certainly creepy to be alone here in the heart of the dark woods. The castle is better than the woods full of monsters, but still…

Anyway, the interactions between MC and Jack are up to the individual to decide. Romance the dragon, or flee from the dragon in the end. Being stuck together can bring a sort of fondness, and Jack falls in love. It makes him determined to never lose MC, ever, so he falls down the yandere path, which can lead to some pretty obsessive moments depending on the choices made.

As for the alternate love interests, after Ian receives word that MC disappeared in the dark woods, he sends knights on a quest to find and rescue them, despite the queen’s interference. This of course includes Shaun and Nick, who are the first to volunteer for the rescue mission. Despite the queen’s meddling, not wanting to waste manpower on a thorn in her side, Ian finally takes a stand against his mother for the sake of MC and their love, and the expedition is sent.

Unbeknownst to the knights, Ian sneaks along with them in disguise. He can’t just sit back and wait while MC is in danger. He can’t let them down a second time. He’ll prove to them, and himself, that he’s truly worthy of their love.

From there it’s trials and tribulations of the guys trying to rescue MC from the dragon… provided that MC still wants to be rescued by the time the guys reach the castle.

Really, in order for all of the love interests to spend time with MC and interact, perhaps Jack will be brought back with them somehow, like he found a loophole in the curse or a way to bind him to MC. That way, Jack can leave the forest, so long as it’s with MC, with the added bonus that he can’t stay too far away from his sunshine. It’d create something of a dynamic similar to the game, only in this case everyone can see Jack and learn that he’s an incredibly dangerous dragon that has the power to kill all of them if he so chooses. Not that he would ever! He’s MC’s best friend after all. He just wants to protect his sunshine.

Though chances are MC will want to hide the whole “dragon” thing if they decide to leave with Jack. Maybe coach him on how to better pass for a human. Best not to scare people, am I right?

Or this AU could just stick in the castle where MC chooses to either romance the dragon or flee the dragon. I know which one Alice is going to choose, regardless if they stay in the castle or go back to civilization.

On that note, let’s get to the part that I suspect you’ve all been really waiting for.

(S)laying the Dragon

With Jack being a mythical creature, that offers possibilities for a very kinky fun time. There’s his obvious features like his sharp teeth and claws, but there’s also those long pointy ears that are perfect for nibbling, and maybe offering a bit of emotional expression in the way they tilt. Then, of course, there’s the tail and wings, perfect to wrap around his sunshine. He’s got even more limbs to hold them close!

Now… dragon anatomy is pretty much whatever we want it to be. Bad Dragon has the name for a reason after all. Want dragons to have two dicks similar to snakes? Go for it. He could still have that while he’s in his “human” form too. In fact, with a belt that allows him to change his shape, he could alter himself in very fun ways. A funky fantasy dick with ridges and/or bumps? Perhaps some tentacles anybody?

I mean, Jack has been alone for a long, long time. He’s only had himself to entertain and experiment with. He might have some very kinky tricks that no one has ever tried before.

To be fair, the tail is probably prehensile, so it might be able to be used like a tentacle for sexy times. He might not even need a second dick to plug up all of MC’s holes at once.

Dragons tend to have long tongues, so french kissing Jack is going to be intense, especially if it’s forked too. Then of course there’s oral. Naturally, he’ll be careful with those sharp teeth of his. Well, unless MC is into something a little rougher. Jack doesn’t want to hurt his sunshine (humans are so fragile after all), but if they like a little pain, well, their good old pal Jack will oblige them!

In my personal fantasy headcanons, pointy ears and the base of wings and tails are sensitive erogenous zones. Nibble on Jack’s ears, please! Preen his wings and make him feel loved and cared for. Rub at the base of his tail, and he’ll get hard instantly.

The scales might be harder than armor, but they’re nice and smooth, and have a nice feel. Jack has some control on just how hard or soft his body is at a time due to the belt’s power. Unless otherwise requested, Jack is very gentle with his sunshine, worried about going too rough due to how easy it was for him to hurt others.

Of course… Jack is also so desperately lonely and horny. MC’s presence has been his only bright spot in so long, and he loves them so much. When they love him too… well, it was already so hard for him to hold himself back. It wouldn’t be that difficult to rile him up and make him start to lose control, struggling to hold back his power even as he tosses MC around and takes them.

Naturally, many of my personal sexy headcanons for Jack apply in this AU. This includes a breeding/seeding kink. It’s a bit more pronounced here. If MC has his child then they’ll never ever leave him after all, and they’ll be bound together forever and ever and ever. Even if a child is off the table, the act of breeding/seeding alone is enticing, making them beg him to take them and fill them up with his hot cum is something that he fantasizes about often.

Of course, Jack doesn’t simply want sex with MC, he wants to make love. They make him feel truly loved for the first time in forever. Did he ever feel so loved before? He wants to experience their love in every way he can, fill them up with it until he’s a part of them forever.

Jack won’t ever force his sunshine, no matter how desperate he is for their love or to make love. He’ll go crazy with need, but always hold himself back if they need him to. As long as they love him, he can take care of himself sexually like he always has. He’s just been so empty, alone, and unloved for so long. MC fills them up with love in a way that he can’t live without anymore.

Naturally, when the pair do start making love, Jack can’t get enough, and his stamina is insane. MC is without a doubt going to be the one passing out first after they’ve been fucked senseless with Jack thrusting inside them, babbling how much he loves them and how good they make him feel. The more they go on, the more feral for their love Jack becomes. He’s needed his sunshine so, so badly, and now that he has them and their love, he can’t live without them anymore.

Of course, with a dragon AU and a shapeshifting ability, you can get really creative. For one thing there’s his full dragon form, which would be a giant compared to MC. Size difference anyone? Plus the exact details of how Jack looks in his dragon form could offer interesting possibilities of its own.

Then of course there’s even more furry-related kinks like oviposition or stuff like that. It's not for me personally, but I can imagine Jack would be open to experimentation and indulging in MC’s kinks, even the more outrageous ones. After all, it’s all just more ways to show just how much he loves his sunshine~

You best believe Jack has a predplay kink in this universe. He can smell MC and track them down easily. If that doesn’t work, there’s all sorts of magic he’s learned over the years that can do the trick. Of course he doesn’t want to scare MC, but when it’s good fun, it can lead to a delightfully spicy time~

While I’m on the topic of Jack smelling MC, he is addicted to their scent. The smell of their pheromones easily riles him up, practically sending him into rut like an alpha from Omegaverse!

Naturally, since Jack is a dragon, he has a horde. The castle was loaded with treasure, and it is pretty and shiny. It looks nice all piled together, maybe even neatly decorated. No doubt he’ll want to make love to his sunshine atop a pile of shiny gold coins and jewels, though he’ll make sure that he’s on the bottom so they don’t get jabbed by the hard edges… unless they’d like that, of course.

Of course, the true treasure Jack is hoarding in his lair would be MC. Gold and jewels are nice, but they don’t hold a candle to the love of his sunshine~

Wow. I think this is the longest headcanon post I’ve ever made while sticking with neutral MCs for the most part. I think I’m long overdue to shamelessly self-indulge with my OTP. Let’s see how Alice’s choices will affect this AU and how events unfold, shall we?

Lady Alice of House Rose

Naturally, Alice can’t have the surname of King in a setting like this, so I’m going to use her middle name as the house name.

Fun fact, Rose is the middle name for Barbie and Coraline too!

Yes, that means Barbie’s full name is Barbara Anne Rose King.

Yes. Yes, that pun was indeed intentional.

No, I will not apologize. Her name was picked to be a pun in the first place after all. ;3

Anyway, back to Alice. Being the eldest child, she has the responsibility to elevate the status of her household. Not only are they barely nobility, but their finances aren’t in the best shape. She needs money to help her family, and the honor of being a knight in hopes of gaining a better title.

It’s a shame that the queen doesn’t care for Alice and she’s been stuck as a squire way longer than is reasonable.

Alice knew that it would be impossible for her to marry a prince like Ian, no matter how kind he was, or how close they were. She couldn’t avoid falling for him though. It made her more determined to earn a better title, to make something of herself and earn acclaim. Maybe if she became the greatest knight in the kingdom, maybe she can prove herself worthy of royal consort and be with Ian as his wife one day.

Alice busted her ass trying to be a knight despite all the rough training and being forced to work menial, often degrading tasks as a squire. The weapons she specializes in are the bow and magic, combining the two to devastating effect. She’s also very good at keeping quiet and being stealthy.

In this universe, Alice never had sex with Ian. Although this fantasy setting is more open about sex before marriage, the gap between her and Ian was so wide, she didn’t want to risk doing anything that might ruin their chances of being together. That’s why finding out he cheated broke her heart, regardless of them being physically intimate together. Worse, his outburst when he begged her for forgiveness made it sound like they had been sleeping together to those who overheard, and the rumors were very unkind to the two of them, Alice especially.

Ian cheating proved to Alice that she was only fooling herself that they could be together. Their worlds were too far apart. Ian was to be king someday and she… well, maybe she’ll reach the title of Baroness. Though Ian begged for forgiveness, and Alice gave it to him, she couldn’t go back to the way they were. Advice from Shaun and others helped her see that it was best for everyone involved that she simply remain as the loyal (future) knight and Prince Ian as only her liege.

Let’s skip ahead to the mission to catch the thief in the dark woods. Alice’s best means of combat is the stealth kill. She sneaks quietly, sets up magic traps, fires arrows when the enemy is unaware, and in general takes her time to take her enemy at her own advantage. She actually works pretty well as a solo fighter due to being so stealthy. Though she is good at hand to hand combat if need be, she prefers to strike before her enemy realizes she’s there, and she’s amazing at her skills. Why, if she put her mind to it, she could be a skilled assassin. (Or in another world, a sniper.)

The horde of monsters the thief set off to charge after Alice was almost her undoing. By the time she fell into the catacombs, she passed out from exhaustion, having drained her mana dry. She might have been doomed if a monster came upon her then, but fortunately the master of the dark woods found her in time.

Alice was pretty darn shocked to wake up in a surprisingly fluffy bed, with her armor removed. Not all of it fortunately. She had her modesty protected and her softer clothes still on, but the uncomfortable hard outer plates were removed so that she could sleep peacefully. Jack was apologetic about removing any part of her clothes without asking, even blushing about it, but he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable while she recovered.

Needless to say, Alice is wary of Jack at first, but he did save her life. She does piece together that he’s the dragon pretty quickly and is naturally wary, deciding that the best course of action is to rest up, heal, and carefully get information from the legendary master of the dark woods.

The rumors and legends are so varied, it’s hard to know what exactly is the truth. The dragon of the dark woods doesn’t even have a name, and some of the tales are clearly exaggerations. Since Jack is showing himself to be surprisingly friendly, and he saved Alice from certain death, she decided to trust him… at least enough to remain civil and learn more about him, the castle, and the dark woods.

After asking many questions and getting as much information as Jack can give her (though much of it is confusing due to how rusty he is with socializing), Alice agrees to help him find a way to break his curse. She’s taking a risk, but if she leaves the castle on her own, she’ll die. If she stays, she can keep an eye on Jack to see if he’s really as good and gentle as he presents himself to be. If she has to, she’ll find a way to escape without him if she gets the sense that he’s using her to escape the forest in order to conquer the world or something.

Being very good at sneaking, Alice does slip away to search around the castle for answers on her own as much as possible. However, Jack can’t stand the idea of losing track of her, and all it took was one time of losing track of her for him to leave a magic tracker on her discreetly so he can find her wherever she goes - for her own safety of course! He can’t stand to be far from her. He has to give her time to herself, since if he leaves her with no privacy she won’t trust him, but it’s so hard to stay away. He’s so lonely.

At first Jack’s feelings for Alice are platonic, just a lonely man in desperate need of friendship, but over the time they spend together, getting to know one another, he falls in love and falls hard. Alice, naturally, takes much longer to fall after her relationship with Ian fell apart. At first, Jack is someone she can’t quite trust because he’s a stranger, then she is cautious because he’s a powerful dragon with many unflattering legends about the monster that he is, then it’s concern for the power imbalance between them… but eventually she sees that he’s just a lonely, sweet dork who just wants a friend.

Of course, Alice won’t realize he wants much more than friendship until later. Jack doesn’t want to scare her away after all.

I don’t think Shaun, Nick, and Ian are just going to sit back and wait long to try and find her, but I want to give Alice and Jack plenty of alone time, so I’m going to go with the idea that when humans come deep into the heart of the woods, at first Jack is excited. More friends! Then he becomes fearful when he realizes they’re looking for Alice. They want to take his sunshine away. She’ll leave him, forever!

Well, that won’t do. Jack doesn’t want to hurt them, but he can just make it difficult to find the castle. Maybe use the power of the cursed land to rearrange the forest when the search party isn’t looking, mix them up so that they find themselves suddenly outside the woods. Jack might not be able to leave due to the curse, but he’s not known as master of the dark woods for nothing. He can wield the golden cuffs’ power however he likes, just he can never leave.

Jack just needs to divert them long enough that they give up and leave, or he can find a way to escape with his sunshine’s help. Alice knows many interesting spells, being very creative with magic in ways that he never thought of before, and she knows of things that he doesn’t due to coming from outside the woods. With her help, he is able to figure out a way to free himself from his imprisonment… provided that he remains close to his sunshine. It’s more of a change in the curse than an actual cure for it, but it’s a vast improvement! He can leave the dark woods! Finally! At long last! He can converse with more people! He can make friends! He won’t have to be left alone and forgotten in the dark anymore!

Of course, Alice helps Jack prepare to be around people by helping him refine his “human” form. People aren’t going to understand that the deadly dragon of the dark woods is really just a sweet marshmallow, practically a giant cuddly puppy in human-ish form! When Jack can master looking properly human, they can come up with a cover story that he was a wanderer that found her lost in the woods and helped her until she could get back home. It’s not a lie technically. He used to be a wanderer after all, and everything else is true. He’s been nothing but helpful to his sunshine~

So Alice has to hide the secret of her new dragon friend, who has made it his mission to win her heart. Jack is willing to wait for her to be ready to love him the way that he loves her, even if the wait drives him crazy, but he’s very territorial, not liking the way the other guys look at her. However, Alice does notice his more possessive behaviors even as he tries to remain subtle about them, and she makes sure to keep her new “pet” dragon on a tight leash. Jack is fine with that so long as it means he’ll stay close to his sunshine.

I’m going to say that the change to the curse to bind them together does cause an empathy connection because I really love empath magic. Plus, allowing the pair to feel each other’s emotions and even pleasure and pain is very intimate. When Alice realizes they now can sense each other’s pain as a result of what she did, Jack makes it clear that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe so that she won’t have to experience any pain. He’ll promises to protect her for the rest of his life.

Of course, such a declaration leaves Alice feeling rather flustered. ;3

Overall, it is a bit more of a slow burn than Sunshine in Hell, but eventually the two of them fall in love, much to the dismay of the rest of the male leads.

Naturally love will overcome the curse, because I am an absolute sucker for happy endings. Jack and Alice will find a way to break the curse and remain together so they can live happily ever after. And make love like rabbits hopped up on viagra.

No, I won’t apologize for that pun either.

It won’t come too easily, of course. There’s plenty of people who aren’t going to be keen to immediately trust Jack, and not just the male leads. He came from out of nowhere, with no known background. Alice’s family is certainly going to be concerned by the stranger that waltzed into her life after her heart was already broken by Ian, especially since by the time they meet Jack, she’s already shown signs of crushing on him. The family is going to need to make sure that this new guy is worth potential heartbreak.

Then of course there’s the whole political aspect of things. This country used to be the very kingdom that Joseph was chased out of many, many years ago. The lost prince is a story that could be uncovered to potentially explosive results.

Why, if Jack had the mind to, he could take back the throne and rule the kingdom that once chased him away… with his sunshine ruling by his side after all.

Will that happen with Alice? Maybe. Maybe she’ll actually become a queen after all, or maybe she’ll just live a simple life with Jack who doesn’t let on that he’s powerful enough to level the whole kingdom. After all, all he truly wants is to be loved, and Alice is sure to give Jack all the love he could ever ask for.

Perhaps that love will wind up with a lot of adorable half-dragon babies running around. Though they could be fully human if Jack does become a human after the curse breaks. I kind of like the idea that Jack is freed of the curse, but he is still a powerful dragon and can still use the belt to have fun with his shape. Plus baby dragons are the cutest and the idea of Jack and Alice’s kids being little dragons with tiny wings and cute pointy ears heals my soul.

…Holy crap this ramble went on for 26 pages. That’s over 11,000 words according to google doc! This must be my longest ramble yet, and that’s saying something! Well, I suppose that’s what happens when a dragon lover makes a dragon AU, haha. Fantasy has always been my jam, and I love playing with magical elements.

Anyway, I’m going to take that as a cue to wrap things up here for now. Let me know what you think about this AU and if you want to hear more about anything in particular. Also, let me know if this post inspires you to create anything of your own and please share it with me! I love it that we can inspire one another to create in this fandom, just like Mars’ lovely art inspired me. I hope I’ve given you a few new fun ideas to play with. Thanks for reading this far!

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

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

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ellesthots · 2 months ago

Text

Fateful Beginnings

XXXII. “superglue”

parts: previous / next

plot: rumors spread about the circumstances of your interview with Bruce Wayne. You might have been more partial to each other than you realized…

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, depression, passive suicidality

words: 8.3k

a/n: it’s getting warmer in hereeee !! ahhh!!! this might be my favorite chapter yet!! as always I LOVE hearing what you think, please tell me everything!! <3

Watching the door close behind Bruce again, you felt a bruise forming.

All you’d done was check in on him, and he’d shunned you for it. Shut the door. Threw away the key. It was evident he wanted nothing to do with you.

Maybe it was all in your head—he hadn’t said he was done with you, he’d just… acted exasperated and absolutely finished with any semblance of your concern. How were you supposed to navigate that with only a week separating him and his attempt?

The phone buzzed in your hand. Dr. Crane. How were you going to navigate that while having to answer to someone else?

“Hey!”

Dr. Crane cleared his throat. “Ms. Y/L/N! Wanted to check in. Have you made contact with Mr. Wayne since we last spoke?”

“Yes.”

“And how is he?”

“Well, he said he was feeling bad. But he didn’t want to talk about it further.” It sounded worse than it was (at least you hoped it wasn’t so bad) so you pivoted. “He thanked me for helping him. He came over and cooked me some food a few days ago. We visited. Asked if I was okay. After seeing it.” You set the phone on the counter, taking a few steps back from it. Maybe if you spoke further away from the receiver, it would make the lie less painful. Make your conscience a little quieter.

“Hmm… anything since then?”

“Yeah, today. He visited again. To check in, I uh, I got in a tussle last night.” You winced at how it came out. Tussle? Really? You didn’t want him thinking he’d visited just to say ‘bad’ and then left. “That’s when he said he was feeling bad. But thanked me.” Your breath caught on the last sentence. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to reveal it to Bruce, and you didn’t want to think about what he might do if he found out you’d been lying.

“I see a city hall meeting slated for this evening. Do you know if he’ll be in attendance?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Let me know after. We’re in the sweet spot for another issue.” He said it like the ‘issue’ was something as trivial and inconsequential as traffic on the way to the grocery store. You heard him typing on a keyboard in the background. “Are you aware of the side effects for the class of medication Mr. Wayne is on?”

“No.”

“In addition to assessing the state of his nervous system, I have a few more symptoms I want you to be on the lookout for. Rashes, fever, trouble breathing, fast heartbeat, seizures, uncontrolled movement of any part of his body, fainting, heat intolerance. Some of these are relatively benign, but I want to be kept informed if you gather any of that happening. Alright?”

You’d taken as many notes as you could while he spoke, and had zero concept of how you would know about most of those. Bruce could probably make fainting look intentional, or play it off before anyone could notice.

It was a short call, and he prompted you to trust your gut before signing off.

Showering was annoying; the Tylenol had taken the brunt of the pain away, though your head still ached when you delicately massaged shampoo against it. You had your phone in a baggie sitting on a ledge of the shower in case you slipped. You wished Mar could’ve stayed for you to shower, to make sure you were alright. Part of you was surprised she had stayed until you woke up. If you’d slept another hour, would she have left with Gianna? Would she even have left a note?

While you toweled off you tried to boil down the last 24 hours to something tangible. Mar had nearly been assaulted. You’d both gotten fucked up. Bruce had saved you. Mar had seen Bruce. Mar knew Bruce. Mar thought you and Bruce were together. Bruce knew she knew that, as far as you knew. The phone sat in the baggie on the bathroom counter, holding all of its secrets. You got out your blow dryer and started in on your soaked hair with one hand while the other scanned the video.

At 4:18 in the morning, Mar had emerged from your room. You turned up the volume, barely edging out the roar of the dryer.

“Hey.” She rubbed her eyes and walked to the medicine cabinet. You could only see her back from this POV. Bruce stood up to help, but waited. She pulled something out of a cabinet and he spoke. “Tylenol is better.” Bruce left frame for only a second, and returned with the bottle of it from where you laid on the couch. They exchanged bottles and you heard the sink run for a second.

You couldn’t see either of their faces, just their torsos, only hearing their voices. Mar was situated by the sink on the opposite side of the island. Bruce stood on the other by the middle stool. She didn’t let there be much silence.

“Where did you meet Y/N?”

“City Hall. She asked me for an interview.”

Oh, it felt strange hearing someone talk to him about you. To hear him talking about you. Couldn’t tell if you liked it or hated it.

“Why’d you accept her interview?”

He waited a few seconds, and from knowing her, you knew she was about to drill him if he didn’t speak. You wondered if he sensed it too, and that was why he was being forthright. “The timing aligned. I declined them for so long, people stopped asking. Worked out with the graduation speech.”

Mar’s tone was cold, investigative. She sounded a lot like she had back at Mora’s. Not wanting to deal with nonsense. You figured they were cut out for each other, if Bruce was cut out for anyone. They both didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. If they had a goal, they didn’t mind being pegged an asshole on the way to meeting it. “All the way back in Spring, huh? Interesting.” You heard a slurp of some water.

“How did you and Y/N meet?” It was so fucking weird to have him talking conversationally. Lightly. Politely. Couldn’t be more out of character. You had an itch to start a spreadsheet of all his different personas.

“College. We took some sociology classes together. When did you ask her out?”

AH! She was so nosy. Your stomach clenched. “I haven’t.”

“She’s just gonna tell me tomorrow if you don’t.”

“We’re not together.”

“Whatever pact you guys made, I respect it, but I’m not a fucking fool.” Pact. At least she was making it seem like you were saying the same things he was.

“There must have been a miscommunication.” He sighed.

“What are your intentions? None of that bullshit stands here. I have a really good radar.” Her face moved slightly into frame, a glare set as she gave him a once-over. “If it’s just to fuck she needs to know that, man.”

You could’ve wrung her neck.

“It’s business.” If he was exasperated, his voice didn’t give him away. He was getting better at this.

“Fine. Keep your fuckin secrets. But if you mess her up, I don’t give a fuck who you are, or how many lawyers you have. I know who you are, Bruce Wayne, and I will not hesitate to use my voice to send you into the darkest pits of hell.”

“Noted.” Spoken genuinely, without sass. You mused on how he might’ve said it to you, and smirked.

“I won’t hesitate to fuck you up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fucking sleep.”

Bruce sat at the table, far enough away from the lens that you couldn’t make out his expression. He sat there on his phone for the next few hours until Mar entered again. It was hard to scrub while heat stung the back of your head, but you were forced to multitask.

“Did you even sleep?” It was like she was talking to someone completely normal; no worry about if he might hurt her, yell at her, no dancing around it like he was a stranger. The same framing situation: only able to hear their voices and see their torsos.

“I stay up late.”

Mar muttered something you couldn’t make out. He spoke again. “How are you doing? Y/N said you might have been drugged.” You hadn’t gotten used to him saying your name.

“You don’t have to act concerned because you’re fucking my friend.”

You nearly dropped the hair dryer, the hot metal grazing between your fingers as it slacked in your grip. Jesus fucking fuck. You wished more than anything you could crawl into his thoughts. “I wanted to check in. It’s a fucked up thing to go through.”

She paused. She actually paused. When she spoke again, her tone was gentler. “Not the first time it’s happened. And this time nothing actually happened.” She scoffed. “Piece of shit. He was acting so fucking nice at the bar, I should’ve known something was up.”

“You took his behavior at face-value. No blame in that.” Damn, an actually nice sentiment.

“Thanks for last night.” She uncrossed her arms and started rummaging by the phone, which was by the pantry. Bruce spoke unprompted. “Someone from the GCPD should be in contact within the next 48 hours. For your statement.”

Mar scowled. “Love doing those.” She’d done one before? She sighed. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Well, I’m gonna make pancakes.”

“I can help, if you’d like.”

“Trying to impress me?”

Bruce didn’t respond. They didn’t speak again until you heard a rustle by the couch; probably you adjusting. “How is she?”

Bruce’s voice was dryer now, and you watched him reach for the dregs of his energy drink. “Seems fine. Pupils are reactive, she’s oriented to time and place.”

“What are you, a doctor or something?”

“Special interest.”

You grinned knowing the real reason. Nah, he’s just Batman. You’re not only talking to Bruce Wayne right now, you’re talking to a vigilante. She’d probably shit herself.

As soon as she had finished making breakfast and sat at the table opposite him, she started asking the frivolous questions. You felt a bit jealous of her. Getting to talk to someone she perceived as a celebrity without all the baggage, without all the fear. It might have been interesting, cool, fun. Regardless of if you thought he deserved it, or any ideological ick you got from his upbringing and social status, he lived a life entirely out of reach, kept exclusively behind a locked curtain. His life was the carrot on a stick dangling in front of every American chasing The Dream. He didn’t make it seem very fun. “What’s it like to be a billionaire?”

“I don’t think about it much. Lots of financial meetings.”

“You grew up in it so of course you don’t think about it.” A pause. You almost laughed thinking about what she was probably… “You wouldn’t miss a couple thousand, would you?” … yup. A laugh actually did escape you. As frustrating as it was to be on the receiving end of her questioning, it was decidedly enthralling to watch her do it to someone else. She took another bite and prattled more. “Nice disguise. Is it weird to have paparazzi follow you? It sounds annoying as fuck.”

“Certainly makes things more difficult.”

“What do you even do? Up in your tower, I mean. I don’t ever hear of any parties there.”

“Mostly keep to myself. Travel some. Prying eyes only got worse after my parents. Didn’t want to deal with it.”

“Damn, that’s right. Makes sense.” She finished her plate in thoughtful silence.

She put her plate away and offered some food to Bruce. At this point you looked at the recording and saw the time was one in the afternoon, just two hours before you’d woken up. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a few pancakes, dry. In less than a minute his plate was clean.

Mar had gone back to your bedroom, telling him she was taking a nap. “Let me know when she wakes up.”

The next time you saw any movement was when Mar had made a slice of toast before speaking to you. You stopped the video when you heard her calling your name. You finished your hair, mindlessly combing through the strands, fretful about if she would ever put the pieces together herself. Black paint around his eyes. Good at fighting. Hell, she’d even said the word disguise! Why was it so clear to you, and no one else?

Between skincare steps, you’d perused Scypher, where you by far had the most notifications. It was soon evident why Mar hadn’t put two and two together: the people of Gotham thought Bruce Wayne no more than a reclusive drug addict. Maybe Bruce hadn’t had to put on the playboy show at all; everyone was already thrown off his scent.

He probably shoots heroin up in his ivory tower

swear i saw him buy on the east side

another rich scumsucker off his rocker

Then came conversations you were mentioned in. Your eyes widened at the sheer mass of them, and how cruelly they painted you. A particular thread stood out, having garnered tens of thousands of likes.

No one has talked about this STUDENT JOURNALIST — to me there’s no way someone like that would get the first pick. My sister works in editing and says people have been trying to get an interview with him for twenty years. What are we thinking, chat?

There was a poll attached that had thousands of hits. ‘See Results’ showed you that between Fucked Him, Scripted, or Both, most people had chosen… both.

The replies were especially heinous.

Is ‘sucked off his limp cock’ an option ? cant imagine the man has any stamina anymore with all that fucking dope. The man had an NFT profile picture and ‘your mom’ in his bio. Stellar. You’d been tagged right below it. what does @youruser think about this?

Someone had answered in place of you, coming off so high and mighty you had to put the phone down before reading more responses to it.

She got bought off. Scripted responses and interview. Wayne Enterprises didn't want stocks to go down. That's why they couldn't get a real journalist, no one would agree to that unethical mess. Screams litigious. Probably signed an NDA anyway with his fuckass company

this tracks. aint pretty enough to bargain that way. less then mid if were being honest. females only care about $$$ anyway, he could pull any one if that was it

You put the phone down. It didn’t matter. You had a life to get back to.

You couldn’t be bothered to wear heels tonight, but you needed to wear something dressy; you stared a little too long at the mirror before tugging on your dress, a haze of insecurity swooping over you. You forced yourself to walk away.

You had to stay off your phone, save calls. You turned off notifications for everything besides, noting Dr. Vry had called you earlier. She’d left a voicemail detailing that there were another hundred-fifty School of Journalism applicants. Apparently, before your interview, they’d only gotten around forty-eight a year.

Outfitted in a pair of old loafers and your same dress, hoping it didn’t look too haphazard a combination, you grabbed your PRESS badge, notepad, pen, and recorder. You tucked your ID and other personal things under your dress and into your shorts pocket. If you didn’t feel like total ass, you could’ve imagined you were a spy. Jetting off to the Meeting of the Elite to uncover clues and inquire between the lines. A resentful, anxious, overwhelmed, stubborn spy. It couldn’t have felt less magical.

You shook off the past week, the past summer, the past year. Bruce Wayne wasn’t your life, he was a minuscule part of it. No longer would you let him take over your brain space—his life was his, yours was yours. As massive a secret you held, as bizarre as it was to be on a first-name basis with a modern Kennedy, you had your own life to attend to. Interviews to conduct, business to get to, truth to find. For the first time in months, you began to feel a bit hopeful as you left your apartment. If Bruce showed up tonight. If not you would literally panic. You willfully ignored the contradiction, just as you ignored the nagging thought that this newfound hope was a fleeting attempt at coping.

Gotham was normal. Cloudy, smoggy skies. It was easy on your aching head. Flickering street lamps as the evening light got ready to wane were not, however. The bustle of the people on the sidewalks, the cracked concrete, the glimmering potholes that had every other driver making a face as they slammed into them. Everything was the same as it had always been. You walked past the same people on their same commute. Saw the same taxis pass. The walking sign on the left was still out of order, murdered by kids sticking their gum into the crevices.

You kept to your usual space, the furthest to the right you could possibly get without scraping your arms against the jagged—sometimes bloody—brick, or stepping in someone’s vomit. You recalled your first month here when you’d had to hold your breath for most of your walks. Breathing ‘fresh’ air here was like gulping someone’s rancid morning breath.

The walk to City Hall wasn’t long, but it was annoying. Cobbled streets, men who wouldn’t move out of the way even if they took up the entire sidewalk. Most of your shirt sleeves had snags from being squeezed against the sides of buildings on walks like these. You had half a mind to kick a dirty puddle at them whenever they forced you to the margins. You didn’t want to double your concussion.

The air was teasing you with autumn; a few excited trees plopped leaves for your feet to crunch, though there weren’t many of them in the area. The city was mechanical, industrial. Something as sensitive and nurturing as foliage didn’t have a place here. One time you’d seen a dandelion growing out of a concrete mound and you’d cried. Maybe you’d been unhappy here longer than you’d thought. That had been in the second month.

As you walked the last stretch of blocks, your destination sitting just in the distance, that hopeful, determined version of you dwindled. You thought about if he didn’t show up, and if he did. You thought about how unfairly singular your life was. You thought about that a lot lately.

On Tuesday, to pass the time, you’d read through Bruce’s interview responses again. This time had been a lot more painful. You’d forgotten about it in the flurry of the attack, but you’d sat with your notebook for hours. Looking at the way he wrote his letters, the Gs in particular, written with a long tail that folded in on itself, seeing the grains of the paper indented in black streaks. It made you feel better holding his writing. It made his being alive feel more real. You wanted to know more about his family camping trip. Where had he gone? Where had he traveled to? Where did he want to go that he hadn’t yet?

It was his loneliness. You smelled the burning sting of it on every page and it attracted you like a moth to flame. It was never written outright, but it was strong subtext, as clear to you as him candidly naming his nerves. It felt exceedingly intimate reading back even his most playboy responses, the hindsight of his desire to die blanching every pen stroke.

This city was brutally lonely, and everyone was so desperate not to feel it. People clustered to fragile friend groups full of superficial conversation, filled their bodies with substances, stayed out all night not daring to slow down otherwise the world might fall apart. All you were was slow. All you did was think, and feel, and think again.

You’d had a lot of time on Tuesday to think about his attempt. You had a horrifying feeling of jealousy about it. You never let your mind sit there too long. It wasn’t normal to feel that way. Reminiscing on the places depression had taken you always made you feel incredible shame. Its vice grip in the middle of the night, three in the morning, when the world was quiet and asleep, but you were so painfully, entirely awake. It was why you’d come to Gotham in the first place. This city never slept.

A masochistic part of you, as you carefully labeled it, thought that Bruce might be the only person in your life who truly understood despair. He’d come face to face with it. It had nearly won out he’d let it come so close. He was willing to show his sadness. Willing to sit in it. Willing to marinate in it, really.

“He doesn’t like to show it, but compassion comes easily to him.” Alfred’s voice punctuated your contemplation. Even if it was out of guilt, Bruce had stayed with you all night; and by the looks of the video, he’d stayed fully awake for it, even with nothing to hold his attention save whatever the hell he had on his phone. Mar had left before asking you how you were—Bruce made sure to ask. Possibly because he could handle it. Probably because he’d acclimated to pain. Your mind wandered to more projections.

Gabbi, Lara, and Rose hadn’t been able to handle the good you, the best behavior you. Your dad never wanted to talk about the reality of your mother’s sickness. Couldn’t even say the word cancer. Your mom didn’t want to dwell, either, and Debbie… she was an emotional wreck. If you stepped on a crack in the sidewalk she might burst into tears, lamenting on how she missed her mother, her father, her old pair of shoes. You’d always been the one to calm her down growing up. The one to hold it when no one could. Bruce seemed like he might be able to hold it. Engage with it. When you argued, he argued back. It wasn’t lost on you how he’d asked about your mom last Thursday when you’d started crying. You felt a lump forming in your throat. He couldn’t actually give a fuck, could he?

Perhaps you were propping him up on a pedestal, delirious from being forced to orbit around him for the past 168 hours. You weren’t exactly comparing him to the world’s finest communicators. His version of handling things was to storm off, deflect. His version of handling things was to argue. His handling things was violent, aggressive, impulsive. And, you thought wistfully, you were actively in the throes of suicide watch. He was everything and nothing all at once.

The steps were easier to climb in loafers, each step jolting you back to time and place. Why the hell had you ever tried to fit in and wear anything different? You tallied how much money you had left, wondering if you could afford a trip to Target for some slacks and a sweater. City Hall was exceptionally busy, even for being only five minutes early. Conversation appeared buzzier tonight; caterers were already handing out dozens of drinks. People were usually more subdued at this point. What had happened?

When you fully stepped inside (instead of just peering through the side window like a dork), every head snapped to you, the din going calm. A few people rolled their eyes, or sighed, and went back to their conversations, but some people continued to stare, leaning in to whoever was nearby to mutter something. You struggled not to squint as the lights pouring from the chandeliers bored a hole into your skull.

You went to your usual place of refuge, near the middle of the back wall, opposite the appetizers and wine where most clustered. Except… there was a group standing now, with PRESS badges in varying fonts, sizes, pins and lanyards. Some had beautiful cameras with lenses that begged to be inspected, adored. As far as you knew, the Gazette only had one Canon you could rent out, limited to once per term per person. Stingy.

“Y/N Y/L/N, is that right?” A gorgeous blonde woman with gleaming veneers and impeccably styled 70s curls held out a manicured hand for you to take. You took it, your hand threatening to go limp when you noticed the VOGUE logo braided into her lanyard. “Eva Reveé, chief staff writer. I read your interview with Mr. Wayne, it was such a pleasure.” You swallowed hard. You felt supremely underdressed. Understood why people had rolled their eyes at your entry. A mousey small-town wannabe student journalist scoring one of the most sought-after jobs in the industry. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Yes. Y/N.” You smiled and did a small laugh, trying to act like you weren’t talking to someone who worked at fucking Vogue. She flashed another smile at you. “You are just the cutest.” Patronizing. “Get a chance to read my email yet? I am sure your inbox is positively flooded right now.”

You turned red. You needed to remember to upgrade foundation when you came to events, a tint wasn’t nearly enough to camouflage your nerves. “I haven’t, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re perfectly fine. I was only wanting to chat about your experience interviewing him! Potentially get some ins for other journalists like myself. We were all chatting before you arrived and were so impressed you were able to score a high-profile case for your first publishing.”

You didn’t like her tone, but you were probably just irritable after the concussion. To play up the awe, or play up the professionalism? Shortchange yourself or prop yourself up? You opened your mouth to speak, but then everyone gasped, hushedly. Before turning your head, you knew Bruce Wayne had just entered the building.

“Mr. Wayne!”

“Are you alright?”

“Your accident looked horrible.”

“What caused it?”

“Didn’t think you’d be here.”

Eva and the other journalists all inched toward him, eyes bright and ravenous. Glancing at him was a bit painful, more than it had been earlier when you were already desperate to escape his gaze, but you needed to assess—you quickly realized this was, in fact, the very worst type of event for you to get any true read on him. He’d never been more on than in this room every week. How were you ever supposed to assess his mental state when he was putting on a show between these four walls?

Last night was far from written on him, not even smudged. He had no bags under his eyes, they were clear and engaged, his posture was tall and at ease. Even his voice, when he spoke, had been relieved of its crackles. It was like the past 24 hours had been a ghost. The only evidence of his attempt were some scratches on his neck and jaw, and scabs on his hand. They already looked better than they had a few hours ago. You imagined a team coming to Wayne Tower to do some fancy makeup over his injuries. The image was hilarious, but faded faster than it ever had before. Usually you adored watching Bruce squirm, even if it was relegated to your imagination, but you saw through it. I feel nervous before every event, he’d written. I don’t like crowds.

“Folks,” Bruce walked toward the center of the room and clapped his hands together, holding them tightly at his waist. The room orbited around him, the audience going still listening to his words. It was eerie. You’d never seen him have this much control over a group. “I’ve heard a lot of discussion surrounding my accident this past Friday.” He seemed to make eye contact with everyone at the same time. “I want to reassure everyone that I am okay. By the grace of God and the incredible team at Gotham General, I’ve been healing wonderfully.” He paused and looked around the perimeter of the room again. His eyes flit onto yours, and held for a second too long. He blinked and continued, and you exhaled when he released you.

“Many people are speculating that substances were involved. I want to assure everyone in here—and outside of it—” He gestured toward you and the throng of press. “That is not the case. I take the safety of my fellow citizens very seriously.” He let that sit. “I have a penchant for fixing up old cars.” He did a dry chuckle. “On a test drive around Tower grounds, my steering went out. Thus, the tree.” He was referring to the viral photo of his car nearly entirely wrapped around a thick oak tree. You gulped.

Some people mumbled, a few grumbled. Bruce stood taller, straightening the last few discs in his spine. “I was disappointed to see how far I have left to go with the residents of this city, though I understand it. I hardly leave my parent’s estate for twenty years, and now I’m in campaigns, given a voice in the election for Gotham’s mayor, and it’s only been a few months.” People’s shoulders were beginning to drop. “I’ve forgotten that though I’ve been in the public psyche, that doesn’t mean we know each other, and it certainly does not foster trust. The reactions to my accident this week have been eye-opening. I’m excited to start working with you all, and the city, to build that trust in the first place. Being Thomas and Martha Wayne’s son is a ticket into a lot of rooms, let me tell you.” Leaning a bit more playboy rich kid. “But I realized you don’t really know me, and I don’t really know you. I want to bridge that gap with this campaign season, and beyond.”

Some people nodded, less grumbles. You were absolutely mesmerized by this version of Bruce. He commanded the room flawlessly, like every syllable was a meticulous sculpture, but made everything also seem casual, off the cuff. Alfred had to have given him public speaking lessons. This was jarring. Somehow knowing precisely what to say and how to say it to lend public favor, but making it look humble, unassuming. Without a lick of nervousness.

Right then, you remembered you hadn’t turned on your recorder. This was a part of the meeting, and a massive conversation right now. You’d have to report on it. You looked down to start fiddling with it, but the REC button was stuck.

“Hopefully, that began with the publishing of Ms. Y/L/N’s interview with me last Sunday.” He both looked at and gestured toward you, the room following his hand like a cat to a laser. You went still, frozen, with your hands clutching the plastic, as a hundred or more eyes, elite eyes, powerful eyes, fixed on you. Analyzed you. Judged you. It took all your power to grin and not faint. It felt like the entire world was in this room, and in a way, it was.

“It was a great honor, and I want to publicly thank Ms. Y/L/N for handling it with utmost tact, integrity, and humor. She could not have provided a more professional, comfortable experience. We are truly indebted to the hardworking, prodigious talent of our university graduates.” He turned back to the room, consequently removing his grip on your neck. “Now, enough about me.” He held his hands up. “Let’s all enjoy tonight.”

You felt like you were buzzing; the room quieted, noise fading to the background. The sensitivity in his eyes before he’d looked away, the firmness of his words, he must have been briefed on the conversations online. You headed into the conference room when Mr. Convoy propped open the doors.

As Bruce walked away, he hoped he had stilled the criticisms hurtling toward you. Alfred had informed him upon his very late arrival back at Wayne Tower that the internet was lit up after the accident, and that it had catapulted the critique of you (and him) from the fringes into the forefront. He’d gone on the Wayne Enterprises account to see some of the conversation, but quickly had to abandon it before typing something that would’ve made everything catastrophically worse. He hadn’t been in any mood to think about you, or to think about anything, but he couldn’t stop himself fuming until the very second the words had left his mouth in front of the group. Even now, as he followed after your lead into the conference room, every step was straddling a mine. His contact lenses irritated his dry eyes after staying up so long, and it didn’t help that this was the first time wearing them to City Hall. He wasn’t looking forward to having to replay that speech later.

The first thing he did after sitting down was scan the room for you. His eyes moved to the righthand corner, where you always stood with your notebook and pen. The lurch of panic cinched his chest until he saw you nestled in with the other reporters in the back left, just barely out of peripheral view.

Convoy started the meeting the usual way, sprinkling in some good vibrations toward Bruce and his continued healing. As he explained why the candidates had not come this evening (“They are getting ready for their first respective rallies. At the meeeting’s end, we will go over the election calendar.”), Bruce fought the urge to shift his chair toward you. He wanted to check your face and see if you were okay. He was shocked you’d shown up tonight; you’d barely been able to look out the curtained window at the filtered, low light without visceral wincing. Had you only come to check on him? He wanted to dead that. How could he do that without talking to you? Was he not going to talk to you anymore?

His mind argued with itself the rest of the meeting, distracting him entirely from its content. An innocent, passing thought interrupted his ruminations and the pros and cons lists he’d drawn up to interrogate himself: he’d just talk to you after the meeting and you’d bring him up to speed about what happened. That thought felt like the first nail in the coffin; his body was already instinctively reaching toward you, trusting you.

By the time Convoy had started listing the tentative schedule for the campaign rallies, he knew he had to lock in. This… fondness he felt toward you…

He visibly grimaced. He was tired, no, exhausted. Coming up on thirty-six hours without sleep, on new meds… gah! He felt the exasperation in his bones. It wasn’t fondness, it was illusive familiarity, when in reality: he didn’t know you, even if he felt like he did, and you didn’t know him, even if you felt like you did. You’d blackmailed him. You’d done an interview. You’d saved him. You’d visited him. You’d argued, caretaken, whined, and promised, and threatened, and talked to him. That was all.

He was crushed by guilt. He’d traumatized someone. He told himself he’d feel the same way if it had happened to anyone else. He felt responsible for cleaning up the mess he’d made of you. But as he glanced behind him to see you nonchalantly scrawling something between college-ruled lines, he couldn’t read any distress in you at all. Still, the need to save you remained.

You looked at him right then. Your eyes explored the injuries on his hands, then traveled to his chest. Still vigilant. Still worried. He didn’t know if you knew he was watching you. He considered having a final conversation about it all; express his thanks, reassure you he was—he suppressed a groan— prioritizing safety, and be done with it, but exploring the guilt with you would only keep it in the present. He’d just have to grit his teeth and bear it. Let the time pass without fiddling with it. Let your wound scab over. He wouldn’t be doing you a service picking at it.

He focused instead on how he’d handle Batman going forward. He could plan well into the night, concentrate this energy toward something useful. He’d need new protocol; he’d have to talk to Alfred about developing a second distress signal; one that was for mental things, not about to bleed out, come rescue. His throat threatened to close whenever he thought about it. How his brain wasn’t reliable. The fabric of reality would fall apart around him if he thought too much about it right then. If he thought about it at all, ever.

“Didn’t think you were the religious type.”

Bruce turned to the left again and saw you closing your notebook. You looked normal; loafers instead of heels, though. Smart. Wouldn’t want to risk falling again. Tiny glance about the immediate area, and he leaned in ever so slightly. “Gotta get on their good side somehow.”

Why did he lean in? Why did he listen to his body pulling closer to you? You’d caused this. You’d decided to talk to him, after he’d made himself clear. You rolled your eyes. When you looked back up at him, you squinted. Christ, if you were able to see his lenses too… You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your fingers up to massage your temple. It didn’t relieve his worry. “Just wanted to touch base. Surprised you came tonight.”

“Couldn’t not.” He led the both of you toward the door, stopped right before the doorway, and leaned down to ‘fix’ his shoe. He lowered his voice, pretending to wrangle a knot out of his shoelace. “I saw what they’re saying online. You and I can’t be seen together.”

“I didn’t know it would be so… aggressive. I’ve only seen a bit of it.”

He was surprised you were. Always a pessimist, and you seemed to know much more about the social landscape than he did. Every single reaction you had eluded him, further solidifying you as a lock he couldn’t pick. He stood up and pretended to fix his hair. You weren’t looking at him, instead eyeing the ground as if wanting to speak. “What?” It wasn’t a conscious decision to egg you on, but, he’d done it.

“You don’t want it.”

“Pity?”

“Concern.” You tucked the notebook into your armpit and flipped your hair over your shoulder to get it out of your face. You got quieter, barely audible. Your eyes were all over the place, everywhere except him. “Are you sure you’re safe?”

His heart began to pound. The time to have the conversation had been thrust upon him, opportunity presenting itself on a silver platter. Maybe this wasn’t picking the scab, but applying ointment. His eyes latched onto the room you’d used last week, and he hid his next sentence under a cough. “Go to the bathroom.” He yawned. “Room from last week in five minutes.”

You left, your dress flouncing behind you, and he set out to find Convoy. After a seconds-long conversation about needing to make a ‘private call’, he’d gotten the man to open the room. “Make sure to lock it on your way out, Mr. Wayne.”

Now that he was alone in the room, he felt unsettled. This decision was impulsive, but necessary. The playing field needed to be leveled, in whatever way possible. The record set straight. A million other phrases and idioms whizzed around his thoughts, trying to come up with an itinerary. He needed to be grateful for what you’d done. What you’d witnessed. Sure, it was fucked up that you’d initially blackmailed him to get the interview, but the interview was assisting his public persona. He had to do one sometime. As much as he hated to admit it due to how uncomfortable it was to be known, it wasn’t your fault that you’d noticed it was him. He’d met a few people as both Bruce and Batman, in passing—as much or more than you had, and you’d deduced it.

You probably wouldn’t have stayed in his house if the flooding hadn’t happened. You’d seemed horrified at the prospect, remembering your gasp from across the table as he’d slammed himself out of the chair. You’d been rude, and intrusive, but you hadn’t committed any cardinal sins. And the elephant in the room: you’d watched him attempt to end his life. You’d seen him hit the ground. You’d gotten him help. He was sure that was etched into your memory like a scar. He had to be appreciative of that, and for calling Alfred in the alley, or he’d ruminate on it for the rest of his fucking life. Whatever guilt was eating him up, he needed to excise it to get back on his way. He needed to be the scalpel, detangling all the gluey tissue and muscle joining the both of you. So your thoughts wouldn’t ever wander back to him. So his thoughts wouldn’t ever wander back to you.

A crucial aspect of that was setting up expectations for future interaction. Unless you were leaving tomorrow, he’d have to see you again, here, every week, indefinitely. With public scrutiny at an all-time high, and you both getting wrapped up in vigilance for one another, everything was getting too complicated. You’d become entangled in his life, and his yours, to a lesser degree. Unless you were also a vigilante in your respective hometown, he didn’t think he could get caught up with you the same way. He needed to make you free of him. You were worried. He needed to soothe that worry, firmly, thoroughly, so that you might start keeping to yourself. You’d meant to leave last week, anyway. It appeared safe to assume the only reason you’d stayed was because of him.

Five minutes. He did a quick scan of the room with the watch on his wrist. The exterior was luxury, but he’d swapped all the internal components to check for bugs. The room was cleared in about five seconds. He let his shoulders drop.

When you entered the room his thoughts exited. The door clicked shut. The only light Bruce could chance keeping on was a lamp in the corner by a stray podium. He was being risky enough talking with you here, he didn’t need to draw more attention, but it was hard to see your face clearly. Also elusive: that his night-oriented vision served him in every other circumstance, but not with you. He gestured for you to sit down, and you did. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk with you.”

You looked afraid again. You looked like you were expecting him to lay out an imminent plan of taking his own life. Appreciation. Reassurance. Goodbye. “I left abruptly earlier. I wanted to reassure you I am safe, and I have no plans to take my own life or anyone else’s.”

He realized he’d been looking slightly above you, not at you, and dropped his gaze to your eye-level. You were squirming. Breathing too fast. He continued, choking back the grief that suddenly threatened to annihilate his body. The words came out of him with robotic monotony. “I promise that I am prioritizing safety. I’m adding a new distress signal into my suit. Keeping up on medication. Checking in with Alfred. I promise I will keep doing that.”

It was the lenses. He didn’t want to relive this. “Thank you for helping me. I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.” His jaw was starting to tremble, and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. He watched helplessly as your eyes glazed over. Fuck. Why did this feel so distressing? Grueling? Why was he starting to sweat? Long stakeouts, heated fights, he’d never been stricken by such apprehension. But you were shaking. And it stamped an ache onto his heart in a shape he’d never felt before.

You were so fucking close to blurting it out. You were trembling in an attempt to contain the lie clawing its way out of you, tooth and nail. I didn’t see it. I only said so so you might stay alive one more day. The words wouldn’t come, yet they couldn’t remain. It was a fucking prison.

Outside of him thanking you for effectively lying, it was evident this was the last time he wanted to talk to you. It was clear he was annoyed by you. That your concern and care wasn’t warm or cozy, it was sharp and inhospitable. A strange sensation settled into you. It was your first year of undergrad. Your boyfriend of three months had packed his car to head home with you for the holidays. You’d gone about four miles until you stopped in front of Lara’s house. He handed you a note. “I want you to read this.” He hadn’t even been able to say it to your face, speeding off right after he handed you a backpack of your things.

At least Bruce was looking you in the eye while he shed you.

You rid the comparison from your mind. You’d thought you were falling in love with that guy. You’d been infatuated with him from the moment you’d met. Bruce was just… Bruce. The only feelings you felt toward him were frustration, guilt, anxiety, and all of it was flooding you now. The mind was simple sometimes. Trying to find patterns even if they weren’t there, overlaying memories. Trying to make meaning out of a meaningless life.

You and him had formed a strange, flimsy, temporary camaraderie, if you could even call it that. He’d helped you, you’d helped him. He’d hurt you, you’d hurt him. He worried about you. You worried about him. Becoming intertwined in each other’s lives in secret, specific ways; suddenly, without asking. Moreso than camaraderie, you’d been in cahoots. Knowing something no one else knew was intimate, but not inherently special. Like a dollar store superglue. It got the job done of sticking things together, but the bond was easily broken apart, leaving a bunch of residue no one wanted. Whatever weird fairytale of connection sat dying in the pit of your stomach shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Before today, it hadn’t even reared its ugly, confused head.

You hadn’t realized he’d gotten a call until you heard his voice lower to a gravelly hue. You moved your eyes to look at him, unblurring your vision by focusing on the phone pressed to his ear. “Can they give it to him?” A pause. Whoever he was talking to, they knew him as Batman. It was uncanny seeing him speak like that dressed in polished Dior. You instinctively spun your chair around to look at the door, making sure it was closed. On the swivel back, you noticed his gaze slip away from you as you scooted back to the table’s edge.

“I’ll check it out.” Click. He got up and pushed his chair in. You followed suit. “What is it?”

“Miller made bail. Said something on the way out about security footage.” He was already nearing the door. It took you longer than you liked to recognize the name. Your brain was mush.

“I thought you said you were taking a break this week,” There you were, going right back to abandoned houses, bitter friends, empty fields.

He pushed past you, but stalled right after. “Tell your friend to stay away from the neighborhood until his trial. You too.”

“Bruce.”

He adjusted to face you and you took a stuttered step back, way too close for comfort. So close you could smell the detergent on his clothes, see the setting shine in his hair as it dried from a recent shower. The microscopic speck of black he’d missed by his tear duct. “We don’t need to do this anymore.”

You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out; his eyes dropped to it for a half second before resuming domineering eye contact. You felt faint. “Don’t make this difficult.” His biting enunciation made your eyes narrow. So heartless, and for what? But it didn’t hold. I see right through you. His sensitivities were scrawled on the walls of your mind in sloping, hurried letters.

You both drew a deep breath at the same time, forcing the both of you to turn your head and avert your gaze. The only sound in the room was too fast, too shallow breathing. He turned around abruptly, whacking you with his cologne.

The room’s oxygen had been replaced with smoke. At last, facing the door he could gulp down a breath. He kept a tight rein on his tone so the ebbs of adrenaline rushing through him wouldn’t taint it. “Stay in here for a few minutes, lock it on your way out. Get a ride.” He grabbed the doorknob and walked out calmly, every muscle in his legs frenzied for him to sprint off. He smiled his way through the foyer and out to the valet. His sweaty palms left prints on the steering wheel as he drove off.

He needed to sleep. Staying awake so long had made him hysterical.

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