#included the name of his character simply 'cause i love it

[lonelyzarquon]

Peter Cushing as Herbert Flay in Madhouse (1974)

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒)

You were inside an otome game, an old classic that you found while searching for games of the same genre.

Imagine your surprise when you realized you were inside the otome game "My Pure Elegant Love," a medieval-style otome game with nobles, kings, and knights. You had just woken up, finding yourself as the daughter of a duke, any duke. Perhaps for a brief moment, you thought you could have reincarnated as Amelie, the protagonist of this game, but you were far from it.

You quickly befriended Amélie; her sweetness and gentleness were at least forced, but you knew that was the vibe of the game. Perhaps being the daughter of a duke, you could meet other characters, like Claude, the noble and best friend of Amélie in the plot and one of the favorite characters of the small group that played this forgotten game, damn it.

There was also Nathan, one of the strongest and most talented knights in the plot. We can't forget about Kalisto, the protagonist's younger brother who had a crush on her, Luka, one of the princes and also a romantic partner in the plot, as well as the wizard Azrael, and the first Duke Eros, all romantic interests of the protagonist.

Being the daughter of a simple duke, you knew you wouldn't have a chance with those of high status like Luka, the first prince. You weren't the protagonist, but you couldn't help but envy her. Perhaps because she was receiving love from handsome boys? Or perhaps because even in this life, in this game, you weren't loved by your family. You thought that being the daughter of a duke would give you some privileges, but oh, how wrong you were. Neglected by your parents, hated by the romantic interests of the protagonist, and simply having a bad reputation.

You thought you were becoming friends with Claude and that you might even win his love, but that was thrown out the window when they all decided to embarrass you at the prince's luxurious party. You didn't know that wearing a dress that Luka himself gave you would make you the target of everyone's ridicule.

"How could you do this, [name]?" How could you? You didn't do anything wrong! There, in front of the stairs with the prince behind her, was the protagonist, wearing the same dress as yours, but prettier. Perhaps because her perfect protagonist's body and beauty were helping her.

All the protagonist's romantic interests, including the ones you liked on the other side of the screen, were looking at you with anger, perhaps even smiling as if it were planned by them, by all of them, including his highness, who at first seemed not to like you, treating you even like a servant. You envy how they were all around that bitch, comforting her, as if you were the villain, which you never were.

Everyone talked, laughed, and even mocked. "I can't believe Miss Amélie has a friend like that!" You heard a lady saying, looking down. Not even your parents cared about you, at this point, you're probably being disowned by the family.

With tears on your face, after trying to explain the misunderstanding to everyone, after being slapped by his highness and the protagonist, you felt like crap. Pulling on the dress, you turned and ran out of the hall, opening the doors brutally. You couldn't stay in that room anymore, not when everyone was now looking at you with hatred.

Unaware, you came across a balcony, hearing footsteps coming. You were scared; the prince might have sent guards after you after you "lied" to everyone while explaining.

With all your strength, you push through the balcony fence, and as you're about to jump, someone forcefully opens the doors, startling you and causing you to slip, now falling to the ground. Your tears are now stronger, groaning in pain as you try to get up.

It was with pain, dirt, and tears that you ended up behind a bush. You couldn't take it anymore; you were shaking from the cold, crying, your makeup smudged, your hair dirty and messy, your "copied" dress dirty and torn. You've never felt so worthless before.

You cried as if you were carrying all the burdens, thinking about how the romantic pairs and the protagonist were not the best; in fact, they were the worst.

Feeling a headache, you sit down, trying to breathe well and calm down as you think, "And now?"

"What's a maiden doing crying in the middle of the woods?" Looking back, you noticed someone coming, a boy. Turning your head forward, you try to wipe away the tears. You don't like anyone seeing you cry; crying is for weak people.

Then you felt something being thrown over you, a thick, large coat. Lifting your head, you now look at the boy in front of you. His melodic and calm voice speaks as he gently crouches in front of you.

"Can you tell me, fair lady?"

You sobbed, trying not to cry, mocking the nickname the boy gave you.

"Fair lady? The way I am right now, I'm barely even a girl, let alone fair or a lady," you say as you use your own dress to clean up the mess of makeup and tears.

"I don't think that," the boy continues to clean as he speaks. "To be honest, I think you're even more beautiful. You just can't see it."

The boy's hands lift your stained and dirty face. You look and notice the looks he's giving, but they're not directed at the protagonist like everyone else's; they're for you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" His calm and concerned eyes are looking at you, waiting for your response.

You just look aside before sighing. It's better than nothing.

"His Highness, the prince, had given me a dress as a gift... to wear at the ball today, but my friend - no, Miss Amélie was wearing the same one. Some of her friends started mocking me for trying to 'copy' the girl, but when I tried to explain, His Highness said he would never give me a gift in his life, especially knowing that his 'friend' Amélie would be wearing it today," you almost can't finish without starting to cry again, sobbing as you try to explain.

"They all planned to humiliate me in front of everyone, and His Highness still insists that I'm lying!" You say, already crying again, not noticing the arms going around you. You only notice when you feel being embraced by the boy as you cling to him, crying and sobbing.

"My dear, they don't deserve your kindness or your presence. What they did was extremely awful to a lady like you," the boy says as he strokes your hair and back, comforting you, as you've always wished to be.

You were clinging to the boy, feeling betrayed, feeling used. You didn't even notice the boy raising his hand to someone behind you, to someone dressed in black, a gentleman, but not the prince's gentleman, oh no, not that traitor.

You didn't even realize how the castle was beginning to stir.

"Let's go, I'll take you somewhere else. You might end up getting sick staying here," he says as he watches you cling to him. He could feel your warmth, you were starting to get sick from crying so much. Nomura's heart was breaking at the thought of you falling ill.

"Are you okay with this, miss?" The boy asks before you nod in agreement. Nomura gets ready and picks you up bridal-style, using his own coat that was on top of you as a blanket to protect you as he carried you to his own carriage.

Watching as you had already fainted from crying, he held you gently as the carriage headed towards his castle, leaving behind an important part of the game that was happening, unaware that the game's villain was now holding you firmly.

Do I do a part 2?

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he's gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

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Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

[ellecdc]

I’ve been thinking about a Remus (or ig any ship that includes him?) x metamorphmagus!reader who is always turning into other people in order to mess with people. despite them being very good at acting and visually/audibly indistinguishable from their target, once the moon comes close and his senses are heightened Remus is able to recognize them from scent alone. I also think he’s observant enough that even when his senses are as normal as they can be, he is able to notice little ticks and habits that break through the disguise. I don’t think he would ruin their fun, observing and if he isn’t in pain even helping with their mischief.

It’s just such a cute little concept to me, and I think it could be fun to play with, so I would love to see if you can come up with a little Drabble or something about it! Thank you mother ❤️ I love confident and mischievous readers with quiet but enabling characters

this was a cute concept! thanks for the request! also, I didn't intend for this to be Potter!reader, but with the way the story went it ended up feeling like it had to be potter reader hahaha

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader who is a metamorphmagus [800 words]

CW: fem!reader, 'your mama' insults, talking about students getting it on in a broom closet

“Never thought I’d find myself happier to see this Black than the other one.” Barty Crouch Junior drawled as he sauntered into the library looking innocent for all intents and purposes - but Remus knew better.

“Sod off, Junior.” Sirius sneered back as he glared at the Slytherin from behind his book. 

“Oh, someone’s getting off, I can assure you.” He jeered; a mischievous sparkle shining in his eye giving Remus not nearly enough time to prepare for the coming theatrics. 

“Oh? Could you hear me and your mum last night?” Sirius replied haughtily, turning a page of his book for show. “I’ll try to make sure we’re quieter next time, but she’s a screamer.” 

Barty simply hummed as he dragged a finger across the back of a chair; expression glowing like he was simply loving this. “Are family members not off limits then, Black? Because if that’s the case, someone really ought to tell Reg and Potter that there's no need to be rutting against each other in the third floor broom closet like a couple of ne’er-do-wells.”

Sirius was standing in record time; his chair grating across the floors before landing with a thunk and his book (prop) laying long forgotten.

“You’re not serious.” Sirius spat menacingly, a true testament to how riled up he got over his brother and best friend (even though the two had been publicly dating for almost two months now) that he didn’t even bother censoring himself against the verb form of his name.

“Deadly.” Barty smirked, and that was all it took for Sirius to go racing off into the castle to cause a bigger scene than either Regulus or James had been prior to the announcement of their secret tryst. 

The library returned to its prior volume as Remus watched 'Barty' simply stare after the last place Sirius could be seen. 

“That’s not nice, dove.” Remus chided gently, though he didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he stared back down at his book.

“Whatever do you mean, Lupin?” You sneered back, but you were wearing a beaming smile that told him clearly you knew the ruse was up. 

“James has been trying very hard to make sure he isn’t throwing his relationship with Regulus in Sirius’ face.” Remus explained tiredly, though it was all for show. 

“And James has been making it very hard for me to not want to stab myself with a quill during quidditch practices.” You pouted as you took the seat across from him.

“All this over quidditch drills?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You didn’t break his gaze nor the pout of your lips as you added “and he ate the last of my fizzing whizzbees.” 

Remus hummed in understanding. “An egregious crime, certainly.”

“Right? What would you have done if he’d eaten all your chocolate?”

“Nothing short of murder; he’d be out the dormitory window.”

“See, I knew you’d get it.” You replied with a smirk, though your eyes turned soft as you looked him over.

“Be nice to your brother.” He murmured quietly, earning a dramatic groan as you threw your head back in exasperation.

“I don’t have to be nice to him, he’s my brother.” 

“What would your mum say?” He asked as he leaned back in his chair and held his book against his lips to hide the smile on his face.

You groaned again and looked over at him nonplussed. “To be nice to my brother.” You offered back in monotone.

He lowered his book so you could see his beaming smile, causing you to launch forward in an attempt to swipe his book from him only for him to catch your wrist instead.

“How did you even know it was me? I thought I had the impression down pat.” You murmured quietly, face now inches from his.

“You certainly look like Junior.” Remus conceded as he gave you a once over. “But he would have never let that comment about his mum fly.”

You let out a bark of laughter that Remus knew to be only yours. “That’s true, I suppose. I’ll do better next time.”

Remus gave you a shake of his head in faux admonishment as he leaned closer to you. “I’ll always recognise my sweet girl.” He murmured, massaging the inside of your wrist that he was holding captive with his thumb. “I’d recognise you by smell alone.” 

Your gaze turned hungry as your eyes flit down to his lips and then back up again. 

But Remus pulled away before you could connect your lips to his.

“Do not kiss me as Barty Crouch Junior.” He deadpanned, causing you to let out raucous laughter that got you more than a few shush’s from surrounding tables before he watched you melt back into yourself.

Remus loved your mischief, but this was by far his favourite version of you.

[luvlloyd]

🌿 | 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔: drabbles

╰┈➤ how would the ninjas react to you telling them that you love them for the first time?

🍃 WARNINGS: fluff, sarcasm, minor wound (Jay), mentions of cursing and self doubt (Kai), nightmares (Lloyd)

🌳 CHARACTERS INCLUDED: Cole, Jay, Kai, Lloyd, Nya, Zane (separately), x (gender neutral) reader

🌴 AUTHORS NOTE: tehe first writing post, hi buddies!! :) A bit of OOC Nya but I still think what I wrote for her was too cute to change <3

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓒𝐎𝐋𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

"Cole… That’s too much sugar-" You interjected, grasping your boyfriend’s arm before he could empty the sugar into the mixing bowl.

“Oh.. my bad, (Name)." Cole chuckled sheepishly, his smile betraying his embarrassment as he glanced at you, “Sorry,” He added.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you aided him in adjusting the sugar amount, "No wonder you’re a sucky chef, Cole," you teased, prompting a scoff from him.

“Me? A sucky chef, please!" He exaggerated the ‘please,’ earning a knowing look from you.

“What? Did you know I’m secretly Gordon Ramsey’s love child?" He grinned.

“In your dreams you probably are," you laughed, causing his face to drop in mock disbelief.

“How dare you? Take this." Cole took the flour that was laying on the counter, grabbed some from the packet and tossed it into your face.

“Cole..! Stop!" You squealed, shielding your face with your arms.

“Nuh uh, you are going to face my flour wrath, (Name)!" He persisted, continuing to shower you with flour until you managed to wrestle the packet from him. Soon, both of you were engaged in a flour war, filling the kitchen with laughter.

Eventually, his arms found their way around your hips, pulling you close as you leaned against his chest, both of you still giggling,

"Cole, I love you so much," you said playfully, feeling him freeze at your words. His pause prompted you to furrow your eyebrows and stare up at him. Cole gazed at you with eyes filled with passion and adoration before he leaned in to peck your lips,

“I love you too, (Name)."

He kissed you again, and again and again. Until you both were just contently sitting in each other’s arms, embraced within the euphoria.

Unfortunately for the two of you, the euphoria was to be put on hold—You both had a bit of some cleaning up to do…

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓙𝐀𝐘 〙ˎˊ˗

The brown haired boy seemed to be bubbling with anxiety, fidgeting with his fingers as he kicked his feet against the medical bed. You grabbed the first aid kit, placing it beside him with a huff, meeting Jay's eyes.

“Do we really have to do this?" he whined, but you reassured him with a smile.

“Of course, dear. We don't want your boo-boo to worsen, do we?" His ears turned pink at your pet name as you dabbed antiseptic on a cloth.

“It's just a cut, (Name)! I don't want to go through all this," Jay pleaded as you brought the cloth closer to him. You looked at him sympathetically,

“Exactly, it's just a cut, so why are you so scared?" You paused, a playful glint in your eye, "Aren't you supposed to be my brave boyfriend?" Jay's expression softened, a grin spreading across his face,

“You're right! I am your brave boyfriend!" he proclaimed proudly. You grinned as you brought the cloth to his cheek.

He winced softly at the burning sensation before the feeling got replaced with your delicate fingers. You applied a Thomas the Train band-aid to his cut and swiftly placed a small kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek, “There you go, your boo-boo is all better now,”

“Thanks doc,” Jay said, his smile cheesy and so incredibly contagious that it brought a smile to your own lips. His bright brown eyes staring into yours as though you were a delicately painted painting, simply a work of art for him to stare at. You cusp his cheek as you both continue staring at each other, you caressed his soft yet warm skin under your fingertips,

“I love you, Jay," you spoke softly. He grinned cheekily, his cheeks lightly dusted pink at your words.

"Well, I love you more!" he retorted playfully.

“No, I love you more," you countered.

“Nope! I love you the most mostful and mostest!" he declared, pulling you into a tight hug and nuzzling his head into your neck. As you let out a small giggle he whispered into your ear,

“I love you, (Name), forever."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓚𝐀𝐈 〙ˎˊ˗

After enduring the agonizing training, you found yourself sprawled on the floor, Kai, your boyfriend of two months, grinning down at you, his weapon by his side.

His sweat-dampened hairs framed his face as he leaned closer to tease you, but suddenly, his playful smirk fell. He tumbled forward, landing directly on top of you. He muttered a curse as his eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched. You both were merely centimeters between each other and in that moment, you swore the world seemed to stand still.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle, “Seems like I fell for you,”

"Hi Kai," you snickered, finding his attempt at being flirty endearing. "Seems like I caught you."

"Sorry about that," Kai chuckled, rolling off to lie beside you on the dojo floor. Together, you gazed up at the ceiling, embracing the silence in the room, until you couldn't resist stealing a glance at his side profile. Holding back the urge to caress his face, you traced the features with your eyes. You met his gaze as his smirked, his eyes staring into yours knowingly.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as he teased you, "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

"I love it," you whispered sweetly, brushing a strand of his hair before meeting his eyes again. "I love all of you."

Kai froze, his confident demeanor crumbling as a blush painted his cheeks. His face turning as bright as his gi. His face faltering into a slight frown.

“You don't mean that," his voice dropped low into a whisper, insecurity lacing his words. You could tell he was feeling incredibly vulnerable.

"Of course I do," you promised him, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare into his crestfallen eyes, “I love you Kai.”

He stared into your face, trying to decipher if you were truly being genuine with him. His face brightened up as he realized you were. A sly grin returned to Kai's face, but his eyes held a warmth that made your body melt. He grabbed your hand from your side and put it up to his lips,

“I love you too, sweetheart."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓛𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 〙ˎˊ˗

Lloyd woke abruptly, his body drenched in sweat, heart pounding against his chest as his nightmare caught up to him. They’ve begun appearing more frequently the last couple of years… His eyes darted anxiously around the room, paranoia lingering in his gaze.

“Lloyd?” You whispered, concern lacing your voice, you could barely see him though the darkness.

"Sorry for waking you, darling," he murmured back, his voice quivering. Sitting up, you touch his trembling arm softly,

“Another bad dream?” you asked. The boy didn’t vocalize his thoughts but instead turned to you to nod his head at you like a sad puppy.

"You're okay, Lloyd," you reassured him soothingly, you brushed a strand of his sweat drenched hair away from his troubled face.

“You’re okay,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around him. You felt him crumble beneath your touch, he sunk into your chest as he stared into your eyes. Searching them for reassurance. You begun playing with his blonde locks, a soft hum escaping your lips. You stole a glance at him. The moonlight cast a gentle glow upon his face, revealing the subtle contours of his gentle features. His eyes closed, his breath steadying into a rhythmic pattern,

"Lloyd?" you whispered, uncertainty lacing your voice. There was no response, only the soft sound of his breathing filling the room. Did he already fall back to sleep? You paused, carefully staring down at his face,

“Well, good night Lloyd... I love you," you murmured softly, turning your gaze towards the window.

Unseen by you, a small smile graced his lips, a ghost of a whisper that you unfortunately didn’t pick up,

“I love you too,”

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓝𝐘𝐀 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed softly as you slipped into your gi, the weight of your mission pressing against your shoulders even before the sun had fully risen. With your weapon at your side, you gazed out at the horizon, thinking about the mission you had to do. It was a task that demanded your immediate attention, one that couldn't wait for the rest of the ninja to stir from their slumber.

As you prepared to summon your elemental dragon, a familiar voice yelled out to you,

"(Name)! Wait!" Your girlfriend, Nya, still in her Spiderman pajamas, dashed towards you with urgency in her step,

“Nya? What’s wrong?" you asked, concern knitting your brow.

"Nothing! I just wanted to say goodbye to you before you left," she replied, quickly kissing you on the cheek. A warmth spread through you at her touch, a feeling of comfort and belonging that only she could ignite.

"Bye (Name)," she said, her smile gentle, but then she hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

“What’s up?” you prompted, curious about the sudden change in her facial expression.

With a sheepish grin, Nya shook her head and presented you with a basket of food. "I um... I also wanted to give you this basket of food. I didn’t want you to be hungry while on your mission, so take it as your breakfast... I mean it’s obviously not going to be as great as Zane’s cooking, I’m sure—"

You interrupted her rambling by accepting the basket with gratitude, your heart swelling with affection for her thoughtful gesture,

“Thank you, Nya,” You stared into her eyes in adoration. Sincerity seeping through your words.

"Of course! Stay safe, (Name)!" Nya beamed, her happiness contagious as she pulled you into a quick one-armed hug.

"Bye Nya, love you," you said absentmindedly, your focus already shifting towards the task at hand as you climbed onto your dragon's back. You weren’t paying attention to her flustered behavior.

You soared into the sky, leaving Nya behind on the ground. Little did you know, as you flew off into the distance, Nya was left beaming with joy, her heart bursting with the simple words you had spoken.

"I love you too, (Name)!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness as she watched you disappear into the horizon.

With a gleeful bounce, she couldn't contain her excitement any longer. "THEY SAID THEY LOVE ME—“ She quickly scowled to herself,

“Control yourself, Nya, but still!! They said they loved me!!" she squealed, her laughter echoing in the quiet morning air. Most likely awaking most of the Monastery.

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓩𝐀𝐍𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed in frustration, your forehead meeting the cool surface of your desk with a dull thud. The blinking cursor on your computer screen taunted you as you tried to summon the words for your research paper. Procrastination had led you to this point, with the deadline looming close.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the muffled noise at your door until it creaked open, revealing the analytical gaze of the ice ninja, Zane,

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I heard sounds of frustration and thought I would offer my assistance," he said, his voice calm and measured.

You managed a weak smile at his considerate gesture. "It's not a problem, I've just hit a roadblock," you admitted, gesturing helplessly towards the computer screen.

"I see no genuine roadblock, do you perhaps mean that figuratively?" Zane inquired, his literal interpretation of your words drawing a chuckle from you. As he approached your desk and effortlessly began typing away at the keyboard, you watched in awe as he swiftly completed the research paper that had been taunting you for hours,

"I believe this should suffice in terms of information. All that's left is to write your conclusion," he remarked, turning towards you with a straightforward expression.

You were dumbfounded by his efficiency, unable to believe he had solved your problem in mere minutes,

“You didn't have to do that!" you exclaimed, your gratitude tinged with surprise.

"I was simply assisting you," Zane replied, his tone neutral, mistaking your reaction for displeasure. You rose from your seat suddenly and enveloped him in a grateful hug,

"Thank you, Zane. I love you," you murmured against his shoulder.

For a moment, there was silence as Zane processed your words, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he brought his arms back up to exchange the hug,

"(Name), you are the optimal configuration for my circuits, the irreplaceable code for my function. To put it in simpler terms, I love you too," he finally responded, his words tinged with a hint of warmth that belied his nindroid nature.

TAGLIST: n/a if interested in getting tag for when I post a specific character lmk!!

©LUVLLOYD | please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work anywhere without my consent.

Thank you for reading! If you like or reblog or even decide to follow me, thank you sm! And if you don’t do any of those things, it’s all good! You spending your time to read this makes my day better nonetheless, so have a good one and drink lots of water and just know that I love you! (and so do these lego characters)

[bones4thecats]

If you're still accepting requests, can I make one for Leona, Jade, Jamil, and Vil (Picked them for their Signature Spell. Feel free to pick someone else if you have someone in mind) reacting to a Male Reader who, given to be from another world, is immune to any and all magical spells inflicted onto them.

Simply put, any magic spells, such as being blasted by a fireball, will not affect him, as well as their Signature Spells. However, he still could be hit by any debris the spell caused.

Another downside, any and all magic includes any beneficial magic, such as any spells that heals wounds, forcing him to recover the hard way.

Hope this is good, thank you!

Their M! S/O w/ an Immunity to Spells

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper, and Vil Schoenheit Requester: @beawesome04 A/N: These are shorter than intended, but I do hope they're good! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of near-death experiences, unknowing-attempted murder (Leona's Part), unknowing-implied attempted-slavery (Jamil's Part), and accidental-attempted cursing (Vil's Part) ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Leona Kingscholar ════════════════════════╝

🦁 Early on in your relationship, Leona had overblotted, which resulted in multiple people coming close to being affected by his unique spell

🦁 As the magic spread throughout his mind, he began to act more erratic and animalistic, which allowed you an opening to tackle him down and try getting him to snap out of his rage-driven state

"Y/N!" Yuu screamed.

"King's Roar!" Leona yelled, gripping your arm tightly as everyone around looked in fear.

🦁 You smirked and lifted your opposite arm, and everyone saw you were holding your wand. And as you angled it to knock Leona out, his pupils began to widen, changing from his blot-form to his normal one. The one where he loved you and cared for you... not the one who would try harming, nonetheless killing you

"Y/N..." You heard him mumble.

"Night, Leona."

🦁 All of a sudden, the Housewarden fell to the ground unconscious. Which made everyone around look at you in shock -how did you survive his unique spell?! Whenever it was cast, whatever he touches would turn to sand. So why weren't you sand?!

🦁 Dodging the topic of your immunity limits and how it worked as Yuu, Grim, and the other first years looked at you with both shock and curiosity, you spoke aloud to all hearing you

"His blot should wear off here in a couple minutes. But be prepared for him to be slightly more aggressive than normal, okay?"

"How in the name of the Great Seven?!"

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jade Leech ════════════════════════════╝

🍄 You were planning a surprise party for Jade and Floyd that week, as their birthday(s?) was(were?) approaching. So, while you normally stayed completely calm, you couldn't help but be more peppy and happy the past few days

🍄 Jade was curious on why you were more giddy, so, in his normal fashion, he had approached you with a plan of his own in his mind

🍄 He knew you were immune to magic and couldn't change what affected you and not, but maybe you would react differently to his magic? Perhaps with the time you've spent in this world, your magic evolved?

"Y/N, may I speak with you in private?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I'll catch up with you in a little bit." You told Azul over the phone, as he was in on the whole birthday-plan.

🍄 Jade walked with you into his room, closing the door, but not locking it behind him. And as he walked up to you and had you look into his eyes, you knew what he was going to do

"Shock the Heart."

🍄 You made your face look slightly dazed as he smirked and cooed you, patting your head as he began to ask you the predicted question

"What are you hiding from me?"

🍄 Deciding to tease him a bit, you kept your act up and answered in a slightly-drawling tone

"Azul and I wanted to give you a raise for your birthday."

"Oh~ How interesting! I must admit that is quite sweet, my love."

🍄 Reaching up and pulling his hat off your head before running off with it being on your own, you laughed and yelled back at him

"Sorry for the lie, Jadey! Just had to cure my boredom! You will never find it out until later!"

🍄 You poor, naive magic-user... Jade always gets what he wants. He did get you after all~

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 As you calmly spoke to Kalim a ways away, you noticed a couple students anxiously walking away from the kitchen, more speed being taken into account until they slowed as they got further away

🐍 Your eyebrows furrowed sadly as you realized why they were doing that. Jamil had overblotted a couple weeks ago and nobody wanted to be around him except Kalim, Yuu, and obviously his lover, you

🐍 Looking at Kalim, you excused yourself before walking inside the kitchen to check on Jamil

🐍 You noticed how empty the kitchen was, so you followed the closest footsteps you could hear, which eventually led you to your boyfriend's dorm room

🐍 Holding your hand up and knocking, you heard Jamil tell you to leave, to which you scoffed and opened the door with your spare key before closing it behind you carefully

"Alright, Jamil. I understand why the others are avoiding you, but why are you avoiding me so much?"

🐍 Burrowing his face deeper into his pillow, you sighed, walking up and sitting beside him and reaching up to pull his hood down and massage his scalp like you would after a long day was finally over and you decided to stay over

"I tried using you without your consent... I should be asking you why you aren't avoiding me..." He grumbled, making your eyes widened slightly before going back to normal as you giggled. "Why are you laughing?"

"Jamil. When we first got together, I swore that I wouldn't judge you for any kind of mistake, no matter the size. You promised the same thing. I know if I did what you did, you wouldn't hold it against me or fear me, so why would I do anything else than the same?"

🐍 Looking into your eyes before tearing up, Jamil sat up and hugged you, his face burrowing into your stomach as you smiled gently and reached for your phone to tell Kalim that you and Jamil were going to take the rest of the night off due to 'personal issues'

"I'll always be there for you, Jamil. No matter what."

"Thank you, Y/N."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Vil Schoenheit ══════════════════════════╝

👑 You knew how Vil's unique spell worked because Rook wouldn't stop talking about one of the first times he had ever needed to use it during class

👑 He asked if you were immune to everyone's spells, to which you shrugged. You hadn't had anyone just walk up to you and try blasting you into space yet, and you didn't plan on it happening yet either

"Understandable." Rook said, looking around before gasping dramatically, wishing you goodbye, and running into the nearby wooden-area surrounding Pomefiore.

"He's an oddball..." You thought.

👑 Walking through the halls and into Vil's room, you popped your spine and sat down on his bed, making sure you wouldn't do anything wrong to the sheets or flooring. Your boyfriend may love you, but he still loves the cleanliness of his room

👑 When he finally arrived, you began to tell Vil about everything that happened that day. From Riddle overblotting back in Heartslabyul and you befriending the magic-less human from another world, much like you, you told him everything in so much detail

👑 Vil began to get annoyed as you spoke, it wasn't that he hated you speaking. Not at all. He just needed a couple minutes to silence to calm down his pounding migraine

"And then a member of his own dorm began egging him, which sent him into a typical frenzy-"

"Fairest One Of All."

👑 As Vil touched your forehead, you looked at his hand, wondering why he was telling you to fall asleep until he kissed your forehead, and when he opened his eyes and saw your confused face, he looked at his hand in shock

"Oh Great Seven... I did not just try using my magic against you... did I?" He asked himself.

"I guess. Eh, it ain't that bad. I guess I can answer Rook's question now though. Unique spells don't work on me either. Sweet."

"Y/N take this seriously!" He said.

"I am! Maybe I could make good money on this..."

"Y/N!"

[peaches-and-creamm]

𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓭𝓪

wc: 3.4k or so

WARNINGS: fem reader, semi-public sex, soft dom!Megumi, sub!reader. p in v, unprotected sex, cumming inside, use of pet names- giving and receiving; baby, pretty girl, good girl, and an established relationship.

CHARACTERS OF AGE / OR AGED UP!

A/N: basically you n megumi fuck outside by the vending machines lmao, i havent written smut in so long so sorry if its ass LMAOO

Ever since it started getting hotter outside everyone, of course, switched to their summer uniforms.

And although the boys usually would just trash their shirts off to the side if they happened to get too sweaty or something during training, Megumi preferred to just relax in the shadows, observing while he drank his water.

His gaze found its way to you, though(as always). The way you were swinging around your practice sword, how your chest bounced while you hoisted the piece of wood above you, swinging down and to the side towards where your sparring partner was.

Megumi found it hard to even focus on anything else but how your body moved, each twist and turn you did to avoid incoming attacks making his stomach turn in a way he usually tries to avoid. He hated feeling like some kind of pervert who watches women just exist- doing normal things and getting aroused by it, yet he couldn't stop to even imagine anything other than how your body looks in that pretty new uniform you'd just gotten.

His attention was finally turned to something else- forcefully, mind you. He'd completely forgotten he himself was supposed to be doing hand-to-hand today, but now he could only look to his palm and remember how soft your chest felt. He balled his hand into a fist and shook his head to clear some of the lewd thoughts that raced through his mind, he knew he had to stop himself before this went any further- and he practically forced himself to no longer look in your direction.

Though when his deep blue eyes met your own his breath caught in his throat- it was like it was the first time you two met all over again. And, when you smiled and waved in his direction before getting smacked upside the head by your sparring partner for being distracted so easily, he gulped- a small dusting of pink coating his cheeks as he quickly avoided his gaze, opting to watch the ground as he walked towards where the vending machines were.

After not too long, he saw your distinct figure from the corner of his eye, your bouncy walk and happy smile on your face as you approached him.

"Hey Megumiiii!" You said happy as you stood beside him, watching as he pressed the button on the machine without even having to look at what he's getting. He knew already, ginger soda- as always. What would be the point of giving it his attention when you were right next to him?

He gulped as he gave you a once over, his gaze lingering on a stray hair that was stuck to your sweat clad forehead, lingering on how your cheeks were red because of your previous movements- he thought it was cute. 

He loved watching how proud you looked after you'd win a practice fight, and he could tell by how excited you looked that you'd most likely won, even including the fact you were distracted for a moment.

"Hey." He simply spoke with a small smile on his face, not looking you in the eyes while he inspected how the sweat you had worked up had caused your shirt to stick to your soft skin.

The vending machine clunked as his drink fell out, but before he could bend down to grab it you reached your hand up to his shoulder to pull him down slightly so your lips could meet in a brief kiss onto his own cold lips.

He blinked a few times in surprise before his eyes met yours for a moment. He cleared his throat once, a pink dusting his cheeks he leaned down to grab his drink.

"Saw ya' sulking on the bleachers, you okay megs?" You innocently questioned, your head tilted to the side as you scanned his body for any possible injuries of the sort.

"Huh? I wasn't sulking..?" He leaned down to reach through the metal flap of the spot in the machine that dispenses the drink and he grabbed it with a large hand.

He fiddled with the tab of the drink, eyes glued to it as his cheeks got hotter while he thought of how your lips felt. His eyebrows furrowed as he found focus in pushing the tab up and down, causing a little 'dink' noise every time he flicked the cool metal.

You hummed to yourself as you watched him fidget, your lips pursing together as you looked him up and down a few times. You put your hand over his that held the can and his gaze went from your hand, up your arm and finally scouring your face, taking in every detail.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" You quietly asked, your hand moving to let go of his own but he quickly caught you by your wrist, holding you still for a moment before clearing his throat again and letting you go.

"No, no..just.... distracted, I guess.." He scratched the back of his neck with a shrug, feeling the sweat that had formed on the skin from his lewd thoughts alone.

"Oh, Is everything okay?" You stood closer to him, a comforting hand finding itself onto his shoulder. You rubbed gentle circles onto his tense shoulder with a warm smile on your face.

His grip tightened around the drink and you could hear how the metal crinkled under his hold. You saw how his jaw flexed when he clenched his teeth together and your face twisted to that of worry.

"Megum-" Before you could get your words out the can clunked to the concrete and his large, cold hands were on either side of your face.

"Let me kiss you." He plainly said, his eyes not leaving yours as he waited for an answer. The expression on his face was almost unreadable, and while he waited for your response he moved one of his hands to grasp at your hip, stumbling into you and forcing you to take a few steps back.

You gasped at the feeling of the cold brick wall meeting the wet of your back, your shirt sticking further onto you. You shivered as his thumb found its way under the bottom of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your hip bone. It was then you realized how much he was panting, how flustered and almost...uncomfortable he looked while staring into your eyes.

You slowly nodded to him, your cheeks red as your hand shakily met his own that held your face. He took a step back, giving you room to breathe before he shut his eyes and shook his head.

"Say it out loud, I wanna hear you say it-" He said as his thumb grazed over your lower lip, letting out a shaky breath when you parted your lips to begin speaking.

"Kiss me-" You uttered quietly, and he quickly lurched forwards to you, cupping both of your cheeks in his hands and squishing your lips to his- the hold he had on you almost hurt but your teeth clashing together was a distraction.

You hummed into the kiss, one hand gently cupping his cheek and the other tangled in his dark hair. But after a moment he seemed to become greedier, him trying to lean further into you. You winced as the brick wall scratched against your skin through your damp shirt.

"Gumi- megumi, hey-" You pushed back against his chest to gain some distance between the two of you. He only hummed in acknowledgement, not bothering to look away from your lips- too distracted with how he already missed how they felt on his own.

"What?" His blue eyes flickered from your mouth to your own eyes a few times before settling on that piece of hair that stuck to your forehead, gently brushing it to the side and cupping your red cheek in his palm.

"What's gotten into you? I-I mean I'm not complaining but-" You stuttered a bit, your hand moving to hold his wrist while your hand on his chest messed with his uniform top.

"But?" He quirked an eyebrow at you, his eye twitching as he forced himself to look away from your body and into your eyes.

You watched him shuffle from side to side, almost nervously. He could tell he was beginning to get antsy, the sight of you in front of him (practically pinned to the wall by him, might I add.) made his pants feel all the more tighter.

 He'd never gotten like this before- he hated even kissing in public but now, the thought of taking you right here and now made his mind go feral with all sorts of thoughts- mostly memories of you when you’ve been under him. 

He gulped and rested his head on your shoulder, taking deep, shaky breaths as his hand gripped at your arm.

"But you're not acting like usual. Should I be worried?" You joked slightly, a hand traveling through his dark hair. He shivered when he felt your nails scrub at his scalp, and cringed at how he was acting. 

It was true- he hated whenever he got like this, especially in public, but he just didn't find it in him to care. No, not with how he felt your chest rise when you giggled at him, you finding how he hid his red face in your shoulder cute.

Your giggle was cut off with an unexpected yelp when his teeth nipped at the underside of your jaw, he felt his body tense up at how your breath got caught in your throat.

"fuck-" He mumbled under his breath, pulling away so the two of you could look at eachother eye to eye. He parted your lips with his thumb and sucked in a sharp breath when you pulled the digit between your lips for a moment, your tongue barely sliding over it before softly kissing it.

"Want you-" He cut himself off slightly, groaning inwardly at how desperate he sounded. "Now, preferably." 

He pushed your hips back so they met the wall, his leg sliding in between your knees so you open your legs more- giving him plenty of room to situate his own hips against yours. You took in a deep breath as you felt his bulge pressing against your tummy, your hands reaching up to grab at his broad shoulders to keep yourself feeling steady.

"N-now...? H-here?!" You squeaked out, grip against him tightening. He brought a finger to your lips to quiet you, shushing you gently.

“Can’t if you keep being loud about it, now can we?” He gulped as he puckered your lips together, his tongue wetting his own, now empty feeling, dry lips as he admired the redness in yours.

"Oh, u-um...." You sucked in a breath through your teeth, shivering at how he tugged the collar of your shirt down some to nip at your collar bones.

"Say stop and I will." He held you by the shoulders, his hot breath fanning across your face as he tried his hardest to keep it steady.

"Say stop." He brought one of the hands up to your red hot cheek and melted when you leaned into his palm. You went to shake your head, then realized he wanted verbal conformation again so you took a deep breath, gulped, then spoke.

"don't stop...." He took a deep shaky breath at this and he put his hands up either side of your head, steading himself on the wall he was now pinning you to.

"I don't....have, uh-" He gulped nervously, letting out a breathy- awkward laugh.

"wait-" He moved away from you- apologizing for squishing your hair slightly as he frantically patted himself down, looking for a condom.

At his dejected groan you couldn't help but giggle at his antics.

"It's in my jacket.." He groaned again and rested his forehead against your shoulder. He panted out as you wiggled under his grasp, flat out whimpering when your thigh grazed his painfully hard erection.

"It's okay- we can just go to the store after." You could barely finish speaking before he began kissing you again, pulling back briefly to apologize for not asking.

"please?" He quietly whispered against your flesh, tapping at the backs of your thighs. You quickly got the message and jumped up so he could wrap your legs around his middle, pressing your crotches together for much needed friction.

"fuck me, megumi~" He hissed at your words, moaning quietly into your ear when you reached your hand down to palm him through his uniform pants.

"I-I could go get it hah-" He was cut off by a shaky, quiet moan from your hands sliding under his waistband- squeezing his hard cock through his boxers.

"s' okay megs, want you- I want you.." Your breathing became heavier as he left sloppy kisses against your neck. "Can I take this off..?" He quietly asked, tugging slightly at your top.

You shook your head 'no', yet grabbed his hand and put it under your top- whimpering slightly when he pinched your hardening nipple.

"Don't want anyone but you seeing me-" You watched as he slowly tugged your shirt up a bit, his body hovering over you more to make sure your slightly exposed chest was hidden from any people who might pass by.

"You're so pretty- um, always.." He gulped as he held your shirt up with one hand, bringing his other one to roll and pinch at the hard bud. This drew a long whine out of you.

You shook your head no, denying the fact he had just complemented you, your blush spreading to your ears. You messed with his belt a bit, silently pleading for him to remove them.

He quickly got the hint and hoisted you up further, now supporting you with one strong arm as his other moved to fiddle with his buckle.

“You sure this is oka-“ But before he could finish speaking you kissed him, breaths mixing together, lips surely red and puffy by now.

“please, megumi- I want you, now, preferably!” You repeated his previous words with a laugh and a playful shake of your head. This drew a short half laugh half snort out of him, him shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging to your shorts, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he stared inbetween your legs- waiting for an answer.

“mhm-“ You simply said with a curt nod of your head and he wasted zero time before gently setting you down, tugging at your soft belt to untie it and hastily pulling both your underwear and shorts down in one swift motion.

He grabbed at his own pants, pulling them down just enough so his crotch would be able to be freed-

Megumi looked from his lower half to your own bare one and leaned down slightly so he could easily grasp at the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up so your back was against the wall yet again.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hooked your ankles together behind him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you watched him hiss from the air meeting his cock once he released it from the restricting confines of his boxers

“Um, can I?” He stuttered a bit, cursing under his breath as he gave himself a few, teasingly slow pumps to his length.

“Jesus- stop asking and just fuck me already!”

“Okay, okay-!” He kissed you gently once, watching as he began aligning himself with your entrance. He spread his cock head up and down your wet folds, lubing himself up with your own slick.

“Fuck, please-“ You whined out, your hole clenching around nothing as you tried to lift your hips closer to his.

He adjusted his grasp on you slightly, making sure the position he was in wouldn’t hurt you as he slowly began sliding in. He bit his lip harshly to stop what would’ve been a loud moan as his hips slowly pushed into your own.

“please move- please, megs-“ You gripped at his hair by the nape of his neck, eyes rolling back as he bottomed out. He panted into your shoulder, laying what would surely become purple and red marks later around the base of your neck.

“Just give me one second- just nghh-“ He whined as you bucked your hips into him, beginning to just move on your own as best as you could.

“Hold on, you’re gonna hurt yourself..” He tried his best to reason, but made no move to stop you. In fact, he pulled you closer- lifting one of your knees up higher than the other so he could slowly begin thrusting up into you.

“ahh~ gumi, s’ good-“ Your words were already beginning to become slurred, and he smashed your mouths together to stop moans from escaping the both of you.

This didn’t stop you from trying to speak, though. You swore against his lips, his name falling from your lips that were muffled against his own.

The soft sounds of your hips meeting aggressively every few seconds drove you crazy, anyone passing would know what was going on if they so much as walked by, and this thought only made you clench around him further.

“Good girl, so good for me, a-always..” He moved one of his hands to grasp at your chest from under your shirt and you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the awful noises that threatened to slip past.

“Here, let me just…” He stopped his thrusts for just a few seconds and you practically felt like sobbing from the lack of contact. Sure you’ve done it raw before, but only once or twice- and never in public.

He adjusted you so your legs were wider so one of his hands could easily move to rub at your clit while he began to move again. The moan this pulled out of you was almost animalistic, and he couldn’t help from grunting into your ear, his own noises growing louder as you babbled pleas for who knows what.

“mmm~ wanna cum, I wanna cum, gumi-“ You whimpered out, the grip on his hair tightening as you tugged him closer to you for a kiss. Your lips met sloppily and you could feel how your mixed saliva coated your chin.

“Come on pretty- please, please cum for me pretty girl-“ He whispered into your ear, trying his best to keep his voice steady- though it was hard with his own high approaching. His calloused fingers rubbed faster against your clit and he felt how you tightened around him further, your legs shaking as you slowly went more and more limp in his grasp.

“g’nna cum baby~, gonna cum megumi- nghh~ a-ahh” The only that could pass from your swollen red lips was his name, and his own noises picked up as well as he listened to you beg for him.

“In me, please- gotta get ahh~ hah- gotta go to the store n get plan b anyway. Make it worth it, please megs wanna feel you in me~” You babbled nonsense, your ankles only tightening behind his back as you pulled him in closer to you so he couldn’t pull out.

“gonna cum-“ The both of you said in unison, soft moans and pants filling the corner you two were held up in.

“so pretty, so pretty-“ He mumbled praises, your lips locking together as his hip began to stutter- pace uneven as he thrusted into you. You felt him twitch inside of you, and soon after you felt incredibly warm- his seed filling you up quickly. He was beginning to get overstimulated but didn’t stop his weak thrusts until your back arched off the wall with a cry of his name as you came on his cock.

“fuck-“ You moaned out, your eyes opening as you looked to him with dopey smile on your face.

“Could I, uh, ask what got you so worked up…?” You quietly thanked him as he helped you down, holding you steady as he helped you put your clothes back on.

“I, um..” He scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat, buckling his belt back up and zipping his zipper. He looked towards you with an almost apologetic expression on his face- borderline embarrassed.

“Just….existing, I guess..” He shrugged and looked away, frowning as he saw the can on the ground. Waste of a perfectly good soda.

You followed his gaze and kissed his hot cheek, ignoring the shine of sweat that coated his face.

“Let me buy you a new one.”

M.LIST♥

[zoozvie]

You are there when Obanai gives Mitsuri her socks.

Pairing: Platonic or Pre-Relationship Obanai/Mitsuri/You

Description: Short little scene rewrite of when Mitsuri gets her gift. I imagined You to be a Hashira as well, but not much detail is described outside the scene.

Note: If you notice, first names are used in this story unless one character is addressing the other, as it is respectful to use last names. This is a time when you are still using formal honorifics, however, I hint that You and Mitsuri are closer because you don't use the "san" honorific. 1.2k word count. Not beta read.

Read it on Ao3! Do not repost! Masterlist

Conversation slowed as everyone indulged in their food. Mitsuri was already on her fourth bowl, impressively holding conversation with you while eating the first few rounds. You weren’t as sure of your ability to talk and chew so you only picked around some of your favorite food that you ordered. The both of you took up most of the conversation and more so directed your responses to include the very quiet man who sat next to Mitsuri. Obanai wasn’t as energetic as you and Mitsuri, but he seemed content with the sole cup of tea he ordered to listen to both of you chatter.

The silence washing over your table wasn’t uncomfortable, but the natural break in topics was the perfect opening for the Serpent Hashira to finally interject.

“Here,” Obanai reached out to hand over a pair of green striped socks to Mitsuri, and you had to wonder how long he had been carrying them. The Love Hashira paused her eating to stare at him wide-eyed.

“Huh? What’s this?” she politely covered her mouth when she spoke, making you smile into the next bite of your meal. Mitsuri was very cute.

Obanai was facing the opposite way to look out the window, avoiding any eye contact from either of you while Kaburamaru stretched between the two in front of you. Mitsuri stared at the fabric in Obanai’s hand, before looking at you questioningly. You just covered your mouth while shrugging your shoulders, hiding your grin at the two’s awkwardness. 

With more urgency, she repeated, “What’s this? Iguro-san?” 

“Take them.” He simply responded.

Mitsuri beamed, “Huh? For me?!” she asked a little redundantly.

Seconds went by before he gave a curt nod of his head, still completely facing away from her. Kaburamaru may as well have been acting as his eyes, the serpent taking in Mitsuri’s reactions and giving you glances every once in a while. You couldn’t stop grinning if you tried.

Mitsuri was all too thrilled to be given a gift. “Whaaat? I’m so happy!” She squealed in delight while gently taking the stockings. “I’ll treasure these! I promise!” 

It certainly was a considerate gift, Mitsuri had just gotten her official Demon Slayer uniform and was too polite to decline the rather provocative female version. You even offered to get a new one for her that was more comfortable and modest, but even with promising not to hurt the creep that fitted her she said she didn’t want to cause any trouble and was fine with the outfit she had as is. The only thing troubling her was how cold she was going to be while moving so quickly in the skirt, which is one of the things she mentioned when you were walking together to the restaurant. How convenient for Obanai to have a solution on hand. You were entertained at all the material you could tease him with but held back for now.

“You don’t need to treasure them.” Obanai dismissed her.

“Wahhh really? But that would be such a waste.” She pouted while inspecting the stockings. You almost chuckled when you saw they matched her eyes. And hair for that matter.

“It’s fine.” He finally turns his head around to look in Mitsuri’s direction, no doubt still avoiding eye contact. “If they get ripped, I’ll just give you a new pair.”

You almost choke. The food you were chewing goes down too quickly and you hurriedly cough and face away from the table. Mitsuri’s call of concern for you is sated by a wave of your hand, as you go to pick up your cup to clear your throat, only to find it empty. Your cheeks are slightly red as you set it back down and try not to cough again until a different cup of tea is placed in front of you, and surprisingly it’s Obanai’s hand that’s retreating from it.

You nod politely in thanks and drink from his tea, cooling your nerves from your near embarrassment. You catch Mitsuri agreeing and telling Obanai her thanks again.

Once you’re in shape to talk again, you can’t handle holding back anymore. “Iguro-san, you’re saying Kanroji shouldn’t treasure the stockings you gave her because they can be replaced.” With both of their attention on you, you slyly sip from your new drink. “So does that mean she should treasure you instead?”

His eyes narrowed in betrayal that he really should have expected as Mitsuri perked up, eager to please.

“Oh! Oh! I can do that! Iguro-san don’t you worry, I will treasure you until the day I die!” She blabbered and Obanai turned away once again, but not before you got the satisfaction of seeing a hint of red appear around the edges of his bandages.

“What are you saying? That’s ridiculous.” He dismissed.

“Huh?!” 

You chuckled. Being an instigator wasn’t your core personality - unlike people like Uzui who take it way too far, you grumble - but in the few times you’ve been near Obanai, to be able to pick up on his fondness for the bubbly pink-haired girl must mean he’s got it bad. You couldn’t help stirring the pot. Obanai was pretty cute too. 

You went in for the kill.

“Oh my, as the Love Hashira, I would have figured you’d know more about these situations…” you put on a cheeky show by feigning embarrassment to what you were alluding to.

Mitsuri’s face was frozen until red flooded her entire head, you thought steam would come out of her ears. Her mouth opened and closed comically as her head whipped back and forth between Iguro and you.

“Ehhhhh? What’s that? Are you saying this was a declaration? Huh?! A confession?! Iguro-san, is that–”

“Enough making jokes.” Obanai cuts through with a deadly warning in the way he says your name. His multi-colored eyes glare menacingly at you, and if you wanted to make another joke about – is he scolding you for teasing him or Mitsuri’s honor? You’ll never know – you are persuaded against doing so lest he takes out his sword in the middle of the restaurant.

“Okay okay, sorry Kanroji. I’m just poking fun.” you try to diffuse her embarrassment. They both seem to let out a breath of relief, which amuses you greatly, and the small clicking of Mitsuri’s chopsticks is the only sound coming from the two as you make a quick trip to the counter.

When you return you have a new steaming cup of tea, “For the record, I don’t think treasuring you is a joke Iguro-san.” you say placing it in front of him. His posture stiffens and you can only see one of his eyes, studying you. Kabuarmaru moves closer in your direction and you use the distraction to avoid looking at either of the Hashira. Lifting a curled fist to the snake, his tongue darts out quickly which you know means he’s smelling you. Obanai relaxes some when you smile gently at his friend. 

“You’re very sweet,” Mitsuri says your name. “You may tease your friends, but I know it’s because you really care about them. And if that’s true I don’t mind being teased by you, but only if you let us return the favor!” she grins with her fists cutely in front of her. Both Obanai and you are silently thankful for her breaking the tension between you, and your meal together continues as it once did.

You match Mitsuri’s smile, “I wish you luck in your endeavors, Kanroji-san.” You respond, jokingly formal, and she giggles.

If you got to spend more time with Mitsuri and Obanai, where's the harm in that?

[shojimezolovemail]

hi! jjk men tearing up when yn kisses their forehead 🤭

A/N: thank you so much for the request!!! if you don't see your fave, feel free to send another ask! request open :-)

A/N pt 2: sorry that some of these are longer than others, i promise i love all these men :”)

warnings: allusion to canon level violence, pet names (sugar, doll, darling & honey), other than that mainly fluff! let me know if i missed anything ^_^

characters included: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, & choso kamo

✰ satoru gojo ✰

A particularly difficult mission was left to the past of the last few hours but it was one Gojo couldn’t shake off of himself. It was one where both of your lives were nearly compromised and that alone was enough to churn his stomach.

“Satoru?” your voice called, breaking him away from a spiral within his mind. “Look at me, honey, please?” Your tone almost desperate as you took in his slumped posture against the seat he was in, legs pressed together as if he were folding himself up.

You got closer to Gojo, standing in front of him and using a hand to cup his face. The gentle touch was enough to begin soothing his racing mind. A sweet kiss pressed to his forehead then to the crown of his head.

Tears pooled along his waterline, breaching containment as they rolled down his cheeks.

As he always kissed away your tears, you returned the favor and pressed a few over where they would begin to stain against his skin.

✰ suguru geto ✰

For so long Geto believed that anything that could go bad would inevitably happen to him. He was spiraling down such a deep, dark depth of his mind until a strong force of light forced itself into to his life. You.

He felt as if divine timing had to play a part in uniting you two but you had other ideas of it.

“We were simply meant to be. Call it fate, or divine timing, whatever you’d like, Sugu,” you’d look over from where you stood in front of the stove, smiling at him and melting his heart.

“You really won’t settle on my divine timing theory?” He asked as he began closing the physical distance between you two.

“I think it’s more fun to pretend that there’s little red strings wrapped around our fingers and that’s what brought us together,” you tried to sound serious but couldn’t help the laugh in your voice at the theory that you spoke of.

Your laughter like the first inkling of spring after a hard winter to Geto, welcoming him into your warmth as it was all consuming. He was a sucker for everything about you though, in truth.

A small smile fell upon his lips, “You’re ridiculous. A red string tying us together? I think that’s a new one.”

You stood on your tip toes to press a quick kiss to his forehead, “You heard me, sugar. Do you mind grabbing the girls for me? I’ll plate up lunch right now.”

Geto stood still for a moment, warmth radiating throughout his body as he processed what you had done. Something within him stirring when he turned to leave the kitchen. His throat tightening at the act of intimacy.

Eyes welling up with tears and a quick cough to cover up the hiccups that followed him beginning to get emotional.

✰ kento nanami ✰

Rarely did you wake up earlier than Nanami but when you did, you tried to make the most of the time you had before he would wake up. He so often spent the hours of the night finishing up paperwork or lulling you to sleep because he had a habit of prioritizing your health over his.

While of course, that was sweet you knew eventually it would catch up and impact his life so when he’d stay up late and sleep in, it was almost a cause for celebration on your end.

You hatched a plan to make breakfast for him as he often would for you when he woke up before you. Nanami slept soundly as you slid out of the bed, careful to leave him with the warmth of the blanket you two shared and little noise as you departed the bedroom.

Soft hums falling past your lips as you gathered all your ingredients, tapping your foot as you awaited for the toast to pop up while you began the eggs.

Truthfully, you weren’t paying much attention to the clock so when you glanced up to see your lover standing in a half-open robe with his chest on display as he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen.

A gasp of surprise leaving your lips, “Good morning honey,” you said with a flushed smile.

“Good morning darling,” he moved to get closer to you but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Ah ah - take a seat at the table, the food’s almost done,” you pointed a spatula toward him, earning a chuckle from his lips.

Nanami took a seat at the small dining table, watching as you moved around the kitchen and finally plated the breakfast you had prepared.

You poured a glass of water and presented the food to Nanami, his hands coming to rest on your hips. A sleepy smile on his lips as he looked up at you.

“Why didn’t you wake me up to help you, darling?” he questioned, thumbs rubbing over your hips through your pajama pants.

One of your hands came to cup his cheeks, “You looked so peaceful, Ken. I didn’t want to disturb you, my love.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, wrapping an arms around his shoulders.

Nanami couldn’t help the warmth that spread all over his body, eyes beginning to burn with tears.

“You’re too good to me, my darling.”

You press another kiss to his cheek now, “I treat you to what you deserve, Kento.”

✰ toji fushiguro ✰

It was another night of patching him up after a particularly bad job he had taken on. The only sound in the bathroom the ripping of gauze and a weak fan that pulled the fumes of rubbing alcohol away from the two of you.

You didn’t bother scolding him now, he knew you were upset but the state he came home in was too bad for you to think of anything else but stopping the blood staining his clothes.

Toji watched you gently clean his wounds, hisses falling past his scarred lips with quick muttered “Sorry, sorry!” from you every time he made noises of discomfort.

He clenched his fist together, the burning of the alcohol never got any easier but one would think that someone of his caliber would not react to something like wounds being treated.

“Doll, would ya look at me?” he questioned with his normally unfriendly tone, quickly adding a “please?” to possibly convince you any further to give him attention.

You met his eyes for the first time since he had come home, worry and fear brimming your waterline.

A kiss to his forehead all you could give, it was quick and sweet. A way of rationalizing that he was in fact right in front of you.

Toji didn’t know what came over him but his throat felt as if it were closing up. One of his hands shot up to grab it, confusion weighing on his brows.

“You okay, Toji? Something hurt?”

He blinked twice then met your eyes again, a small smile on his lips.

“Hm? Yeah, ‘m good, doll. Don’t worry. Just thought about how much I love ya s’all,” he spoke nonchalantly as if his own heart beat wasn’t beating like a drum in his chest.

✰ choso kamo ✰

The love that existed within Choso was overwhelming and all consuming. He was so hopelessly in love with you. Everything you had shown him about being human amazed him and left him hungry for more.

He wasn’t entirely clueless but there were things that he needed coaching on such as kissing or when its appropriate to express love to one another in public. Not to imply you didn’t love when he showed you affection but there was certain things strangers shouldn’t be subjected to.

When he got a better understanding of kissing, he was obsessed with it. Any chance he got, he was pressing a little one to your lips, cheeks or any part of you he could get his hands on.

Choso lived so long only expressing his love to his brothers but now that he had other people to express it towards, he was hooked.

For a while his love and devotion was used as a weapon against himself and others around him, of course not through his full understanding of the situations he was put into.

You two were interlocked in your bed, limbs tangled under a mountain of blankets on a particularly cold night. Would either of you bother to close the cracked window though? Not a chance.

Choso had his head rested against your chest, listening to the thumping of your heartbeat as he often said it soothed his mind. Your body stirred under him, his dark eyebrows furrowing to look up at you - his eyes full of question.

“I’m gonna go grab a snack from the kitchen, you want somethin’?” you questioned as you ran a hand through his hair and began to scoot out from under his head.

He blinked up at you before shaking his head, “I think I’m okay. Thank you though. Love you,” he smiled.

You leaned over the side of the bed he was against now, a kiss presented to his forehead before you disappeared out of the room.

Choso’s pale skin immediately flushed a pink hue, a grin forming on his lips and some tears rolling down his face.

A wet laugh to himself, wiping his fallen tears away before you’d return.

[yaksha-lover]

Malleus Draconia and the Cognitive Dissonance of being a Lonely Prince

A character analysis exploring Malleus’ conflicting views of self

Malleus has two primary characteristics that are significant to his identity: (1) His role as a highly revered, feared, and praised mage & prince and (2) His loneliness and social/emotional isolation.

In Malleus’ concept of identity, these two characteristics are in conflict with each other, despite one somewhat being caused by the other. How can a person reconcile the fact that they are supposedly extraordinarily special, talented, attractive (this is canon in universe btw lol), intelligent, beyond powerful, etc. - essentially a perfect prince - with the fact that they have no friends and barely anyone who cares about them (excluding those he feels are obligated to care)?

Malleus has no strong emotional connection with anyone that is not his family (I include Lilia in this category) or one of his guards (who, in spite of Sebek’s protests, is basically obligated - socially or role wise - to respect and love him). Now, I don’t think any of these relationships is obligatory or disingenuous in any way. Lilia, Silver, and Sebek all genuinely love and care for Malleus. However, I’d argue that isn’t how Malleus sees it (I’ll get into this later).

First, I wanna go into the first characteristic I mentioned, him being revered (+feared) because of his status and capabilities.

Before I even get into him as an individual, let’s look at how Malleus himself perceives the mere status of royalty:

Malleus believes (I suppose because of his personal circumstances) that people who are royalty inherently deserve respect. He even extends this to Leona, who he has a (playfully?) hostile relationship with. I don’t think there’s canon indication that this necessarily means he looks down on people of non-noble birth or anything, but he’s still stuck on this idea that, in certain respects, royalty does deserve better than the average person.

Clearly, this would extend to himself as well. Part of his self-image is kind of decided from birth (in an interesting parallel to Leona who believes that his own status as a second son decides his fate from birth) because he is raised in this environment where he is constantly told that he is better than others, simply because he is a prince.

That said, Malleus takes being royalty and a leader very seriously. I’d argue he believes that because he is ‘better’ than others, he has certain responsibilities and duties that he must complete, as shown above.

Part of this also means that Malleus takes himself very seriously - he isn’t allowed to even try to be normal, because he always has to keep himself in check. Anything he does will reflect poorly upon himself and his family, and this is something Lilia reminds him of.

Here’s where I’ll talk about Malleus’ relationships with the rest of Diasomnia.

Now, Lilia is clearly the person who treats him the most casually and normally. He knows Malleus very well, to the point where he can read his emotions - namely his jealously/bitterness/frustration after being left out of something.

Lilia encourages Malleus the most to try and have normal experiences. He understands Malleus’ loneliness, and wants him to make friends - to seek out more than he could have all alone in his castle. But, Lilia also has times where he acts as more than a mere guardian to Malleus. I can’t find the screenshot, but I remember Lilia reminding Malleus about what behaviour is and is not befitting of an heir, so that aspect of their relationship is still something to take note of. Even Lilia, who understands him better than anyone, still must wish for him to be the best heir and prince (sometimes sacrificing his own wants, although Lilia probably does this the least considering he knows Malleus’ feelings).

It’s no exaggeration to say that Sebek worships Malleus to the highest extent (just look at the portrait of him in his room). The way Sebek talks about him isn’t at all like a friend or even family - Malleus is a god to him. I argue that Sebek’s behaviour specifically (he would cry if he knew this) distances him the most from Malleus emotionally.

This will be explored more later on, but what Malleus wants is to be treated somewhat normally, at least by a few people he can be close with. Sebek does the opposite of this. While the students who are scared of Malleus isolate him because of their fear, Sebek actually accidentally isolates him because of his dedication and worship. Thus, both Sebek and others isolate Malleus through their treatment of him because of his position/status/strength.

Malleus certainly cares for Sebek, but I don’t believe he thinks of him as a genuine friend (and that’s not meant as a way to dismiss the relationship they do have, just that he doesn’t view Sebek as caring about him as a person rather than him as a prince/mage). How can he, when Sebek constantly acts like a fanboy around him?

Now let’s look at Malleus and Silver.

Silver addresses Malleus as either ‘housewarden’ or ‘master.’ Again, to my previous point about Sebek, I think this does point to Silver and Malleus’ relationship not exactly being a friendship. However, I think differently to Sebek, Silver does have more of a personal relationship with Malleus.

He treats Malleus with respect and formality, but he isn’t over the top with it. I’d argue they have a sort of ‘mentor-student’ relationship in a way; not exactly that, but you understand my point. Silver looks up to Malleus as a person, and Malleus is willing to teach Silver about things. I almost want to say they’re a bit like a younger and older sibling, but I think a bit of the closeness/familiarity is lacking (at least for now). The relationship still has a bit of a formality to it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t personal. I won’t spoil for those who haven’t read book 7, but I think their relationship becomes more clear there, iykyk.

I know most of Malleus’ vignettes are played for a joke, but holy shit they make me sad. You can tell that ever since he enrolled, if he wasn’t sharing a class with Lilia, Malleus has basically had to work alone for everything. Even here, Cater is only asking Mal if he wants to join his group so he can use Malleus for Magicam clout. Everyone is so scared of him that he’s never had a partner and he’s even gotten used to it. It might not seem that serious, but honestly - sorry to be crude - this kind of thing does fuck you up, especially while growing up.

Think about how Malleus feels - being the outcast and genuinely having no friends feels humiliating and depressing. It makes you think there’s something wrong with you, and that’s the way I choose to interpret the other aspect of his character. His passive acceptance to social isolation and rejection is a constant among his vignettes - anytime someone brings this up, he’ll say it’s fine and he’s used to it.

Another relationship worth noting is Malleus’ grandmother - his only living blood relative. Something that stood out to me (and I could be reading too much into this) but Malleus really feels surprised that his grandmother would take time to write her only family member a happy birthday letter?

That’s very sad to me, and I think it’s a reflection of both the expectation Malleus feels is placed on them as royals and his feeling that he as an individual (not as a prince) is inherently less important than any royals duties. He seems to think this way about himself too, treating his princely duties as always more important than anything he would want personally. A letter is a small gesture, and Malleus doesn’t even expect that from his grandmother.

I’ll use this to segue to discussing Malleus’ insecurity and social isolation.

Ever since he was a child, Malleus has been isolated from others. Before he was feared and before he was worshiped, Malleus was lonely. That’s clear to anyone. Now, I want to talk about how this loneliness and isolation has affected his self-image.

Examining his personal relationships, how the rest of the school sees him, and his own views on royalty and himself, I think it’s clear Malleus, on one regard, seems at first glance to think highly of himself. He isn’t arrogant or boastful. Rather, he just is very extraordinary in many aspects.

But, that surface level interpretation completely leaves out the other side of him. While he might excel in skills, Malleus fails on all regards in terms of relationships. It’s clear, no matter how much he says he doesn’t care or that he’s accepted it, that it hurts Malleus every time he is excluded from something.

He tries to hide that he’s upset that he missed the orientation ceremony, but Lilia remarks that it’s clear how jealous he is that Sebek got to attend. When Lilia reminds him that there’s always next year, Malleus immediately dismisses the possibility that he will ever be invited. In his birthday vignette, he states that he hates eating entire cakes and becomes upset when Yuu brings up the fact that they aren’t meant to be eaten alone because he knows. He knows just how lonely and isolated he is compared to everyone else and he hates.

Malleus has mostly given up and accepted that he will ever fit in. He is pessimistic, but to say he does not hope isn’t entirely correct. Later in the vignette, although he may be half-joking, Malleus remarks that Leona may have stopped by to invite him to a party - he’s even excited by the prospect. And again, he is let down. Leona even taunts him spot-on for his greatest insecurity (isn’t he just so dreamy?).

Now, while this does offend Malleus to a degree (see their catfight where he basically threatens to declaw Leona), I get the feeling that this kind of interaction with someone who views him as an equal (or at least, isn’t intimidated nor awed by him in the slightest) is probably pretty refreshing for Malleus. In a way, you get the sense that he enjoys that back and forth with him, because this goes back to Mal’s wish to be accepted and have friends to talk with.

Anyway, to return to my main point: Malleus’ deep loneliness and failure to fit in has likely caused some deep rooted feelings of insecurity (Note: I want to make a separate post on this because it’s kind of a lot, but I think this also contributes to his anxious attachment style). Malleus likely feels unwanted, despite all the great things about him that make people like Sebek fanboy over him.

No matter how powerful Malleus becomes, no matter how many people worship him, Malleus will always feel worthless deep down because no one will accept him for who he is.

The kind of insecurity and loneliness that pervades your life for years and follows you around everywhere isn’t something you can just shake off. No matter how much he tries to reassure himself that he is enough, he’ll never quite be able to quiet the voice in his head telling him that he is wanted by nobody and that he deserves nothing, that things are this way because he is not worth loving.

To conclude, how can Malleus reconcile these two sides of himself - the parts that know he is something great (worthy of worship and praise, even) and the parts that tell him he is worth nothing? Both sides are so extreme, people worship him but almost everyone avoids him. I feel that’s something Malleus must struggle with a lot - trying to hold on to the view of himself as a good prince while feeling that slip away when he becomes emotional.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! Let me know if you disagree or think I got anything wrong, this is just my thoughts and my opinions and I’m open to changing them :)

[sundrop-writes]

would you be willing to do a follow up to the teen wolf pregnancy hcs? something with the characters interacting with their kid - can be as a baby or older - just them being parents and adjusting to being young parents.

i love your writing 💗💗💗

Fyi, I was not even planning on working on requests tonight, but this caught my attention so much and gave me such a good idea that I had to do it. I decided to do it with the same characters from the first part, but if you want to see this prompt with other characters, then I would do the 'how they react to finding out that you're pregnant' part first with different characters

My requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN, but please read my Rules before sending in a request.

Part One - How would they react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?

How would the pack act as parents?

Included: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale.

Warnings: fem reader - uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is the one who gave birth to the baby, as in the previous part); Stiles's part is extremely self indulgent and something I have been thinking about since I wrote the last part so bear with me; mentions of breastfeeding, giving birth, teething, and other parenting/baby topics; the baby is a different age and has a different name in each section just for funsies; mention of Lydia and reader's baby having red hair - but I did this to drive home the baby's genetic relation to Lydia and I don't think it has to specify the reader's race (someone with darker skin can still have naturally red hair); Lydia calls the reader 'Mama'; mention of the reader being a werewolf in Derek's part because there is a weird continuity in these reactions (and I should write a full fic about Derek and this reader character cause I am slowly becoming addicted to their story, ngl); I believe that's finally it.

Stiles was panicking. He was officially the worst parent ever - everything his dad said was right. He wasn't ready for this, nobody should be a teen parent, he was a failure. God, his whole life was crumbling around him...

You were out of town because your sister was getting married. You had been incredibly hesitant to leave the baby - sweet, adorable, nine-month-old Lila Stilinski - but Stiles had insisted that you go on a weekend getaway to your sister's bachelorette party. You deserved it. You had spent nine whole months growing his baby and then you had given birth to her (a bloody, messy affair that made him faint - to nobody's surprise), and you had spent the last nine months nursing her and getting your degree from home after you had fought through your pregnancy taking double courses to graduate high school early. You were a gem, a beautiful, shining gem of a woman and a mother, and somehow - while you were off getting your much needed rest and having fun - Stiles had lost your baby.

His baby - his baby that he loved very, very much.

He had woken up that morning, late, having forgotten to set the alarm, and rushed around the apartment like a chicken with his head cut off rushing to get Lila ready for day care and himself ready for school, and he dropped her off as usual, with a smile and kiss on her big beautiful forehead. And when he went to pick her up that afternoon - she was gone. The day care worker couldn't give him any other news than the fact that she had been 'signed out already', and it left Stiles panicking, thinking about that cult that sacrifices babies every single day.

In his rush that morning, he had forgotten to charge his phone, so he couldn't get his dad on the line - and he was currently running at top, lung-crushing speed toward the police station, running past the deputy on duty at the front desk, who simply shrugged and buzzed him in when she saw his bright red face and his clear desperation.

"Dad, D-dad, you have to-!" He was going to ask his father to put out an amber alert, to call every single one of his deputies back to get them looking, but when his father turned around - that sweet girl with the bright purple bow in her hair was in his arms.

Then, Stiles shifted on a dime from panic to anger.

"Dad, what the hell?" He barked out, struggling to sound as pissed off as he was while still trying to catch his breath.

"What?" The Sheriff shrugged, kissing his granddaughter on the forehead before cooing brightly at her, smiling at her with all the brightness in the world, paying Stiles absolutely no mind.

"You took her out of day care without telling me first?" Stiles gaped, absolutely angered that his father had let him believe for even a moment that his girl was missing.

He knew it was a cruel irony - a blunt kind of karma. All the times he had come home late, all the nights he had snuck out believing that his dad was simply being too hard on him for giving him such an early curfew. Now, in a single crashing moment, he instantly understood why his father had worried so much - why he was so angry every single time Stiles was out of his sight, especially when there was danger around.

"Your phone was off." Noah shrugged, rocking Lila back and forth in his arms, giving her another kiss on the forehead as he began to hum the tune of a lullaby under his breath. "I got bored on my lunch break, and I wanted to see my baby, so what?"

It was the usual for him - any time he was within ten feet of her, she didn't have a moment in your arms or Stiles's. On the day she had been born, he had brought a giant gift basket to the hospital, grumbling under his breath about how he still thought it was 'irresponsible' of Stiles, but demanding to see 'his baby'.

He had burst into tears upon seeing Lila for the first time, and was deeply aggressive about who was allowed to visit and for how long. When she came home, he stood watch over her crib with his gun in hand for multiple days before he finally gave up and went to sleep (and according to you, he admitted quietly that he had done the same thing for Stiles when he first came home from the hospital).

"My phone died." Stiles stressed. "You could have left a note for me at the school or something. You gave me a freakin' heart attack."

"Be more responsible and charge it next time." The Sheriff grinned at him.

"Just - don't kidnap my daughter again!" Stiles snapped. "She is my daughter-" He argued, taking a possessive, protective stance.

"Yeah, well I made you, so I have certain rights when it comes to this little sweet girl." His father said, trailing off into a cooing baby voice as he began fawning over Lila once again. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Besides, ever since the three of you moved out, I hardly get to see my babygirl anymore."

Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at this, but wanted to argue. The three of you needed your own space, and you had moved into an apartment that was less than twenty minutes away from his father's house. He still saw Lila at least once every single day of the week, unless he was busy working.

"Dad-"

"Besides, it's not kidnapping if I'm the Sheriff."

"It is so kidnapping! It's kidnapping if I report you."

"Is it still considered an abortion if I terminate you now?" His father glared at him.

Stiles let out a huff.

Isaac was tired. He knew that being a parent was going to be tiring, but in the six months since baby Leon had been born, this was his first full night alone with his son. His son who was teething, crying incredibly loudly, and in pain because of his little teeth coming in. He wasn't nearly as upset about the fact that he hadn't slept as he was about the fact that his son was in pain and he could do little about it.

He had considered calling you a few times throughout the night when Leon was letting out particularly harrowing cries and Isaac was on the verge of tears himself (especially considering with his heightened werewolf senses, the pain of those cries seemed to pierce through him even more) - but he had agreed to take care of Leon by himself to get him out of the house that you and your mother shared because you had been studying for the SATs and you needed sleep the night before your big exam. So as much as it pained him, he endured alone and ended up crying with his son while he sucked on a frozen teething toy with tears still running down his chubby cheeks.

The sun had come up a while ago and Leon had just fallen asleep, his portable crib set up in the middle of the loft so that Isaac could watch over him - his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot red as he stood at the counter, chugging down a cup of black coffee, trying his hardest to stay away until after your exam was over so that you could take Leon and he could have a nap.

He was not at all pleased when the door creaked open, seeming like the loudest thing ever - alerting him to the presence of Boyd entering the apartment.

"Hey, man-" Boyd greeted him in a usual bright tone, and Isaac cut him off with an abrupt hush. He put a finger to his lips and then motioned to the crib, and Boyd peeked over, nodding once he saw the baby. "You're on Daddy duty again?"

"It's not like it's a hobby or something," Isaac told him tiredly in a hushed tone. "I am a father now." Even with the tense whispering and the tired droop of his shoulders, there was a certain sense of pride in the way he said this.

"Well you-"

Isaac shushed him again, as Boyd speaking in his usual tone was far too loud for Isaac's liking.

"You know, he's gonna have to get adjusted to noise sooner or later." Derek piped up from his place on the couch, where Isaac had convinced him to sit and read a book until Leon had settled to sleep.

"Shh!" Isaac tried to hush Derek into silence, but he glared at Isaac and kept talking at his usual volume.

"Babies born into pack families are brought up co-sleeping, so they sleep through the noise of a dozen family members-"

Isaac crossed the room and put a hand against Derek's mouth, forcing him quiet this time.

"I don't care." Isaac insisted. "Nobody is going to wake up my son now that he is asleep."

"Stop touching me." Derek said, muffled against Isaac's hand.

Isaac backed off, and before Derek could speak up again, Leon woke with a high pitched wail.

"You guys have fun with that." Boyd said, taking this as his queue to leave.

Lydia was overjoyed. Telling her parents about everything had been nothing short of a confusing nightmare, and after a lot of convincing from Melissa and Noah and a lot of questions without a lot of answers, they had both still been sceptical right up until you had given birth.

The moment they had laid eyes on a sweet newborn baby girl with bright red hair - they were convinced that against all odds, you and Lydia had made a baby together.

That was an entire year ago - and now, Lydia was having the utter pleasure of planning her beautiful Luna Harmony Martin's first birthday party. She was so perfectly in her element - picking out decorations, designing an utterly epic and fabulous birthday cake (including a separate, smaller smash cake that only her daughter would get to touch, because it was only the best for Luna), planning entertainment - a professional princess performer and some magicians (no clowns - Luna didn't need those kind of memories implanted in her psyche this early on), and the best part: picking out cute little dresses for the birthday girl to wear.

Much like her mother, she was a fashion icon, and she would likely need multiple outfit changes for her party - not just with the fact that she would get covered in cake or her own spit-up, but because a proper birthday girl should always be photographed in more than one ensemble.

You weren't surprised when Lydia came home with two large armfuls of shopping bags. You wanted to protest, to tell her that a one-year-old didn't need that many clothes that she wasn't even going to wear, but you knew that Lydia's parents weren't going to take away her credit card anytime soon (and when it came to spoiling the baby, they were even worse) and you also knew that this was one of her ways of showing your daughter love.

So when she came to sit on the cushy foam playmat with you and Luna, dropping the many shopping bags on the cough behind the two of you, you simply let it happen.

"Hello my sweet girl," Lydia said, greeting your daughter in a sweet voice as she kissed her chubby cheeks and pulled her into her lap. "And hello to you, Mama."

Mama. The nickname still made your stomach churn with heat - something that Lydia had gotten into calling you more lately after some rant about how Luna's 'speech centre' was 'rapidly developing' and she wanted to influence what the baby would call you.

You couldn't help but to grin as you kissed her too.

"I see you've been shopping." You said, motioning toward the bags.

"A bit." Lydia shrugged. "After I booked the carousel-"

"A carousel?" You questioned. "Lydia, she's a year old. She can't even ride carnival rides - she's not even going to remember any of this."

"It's for the photos. Obviously." Lydia sighed in return, rolling her eyes at you. "The theme of the party is Cotton Candy Princess, what kind of idiot would I be if I didn't include at least one classic carnival ride in my photos?"

"At this rate, she's gonna want a golden pony by the time she's five."

"Then she'll get one." Lydia cooed at Luna, kissing her cheeks again, smearing pink lipstick on her.

You couldn't help but to smile - you knew that this was Lydia's way of showing your daughter that to her, she was the most important little girl in the world.

Derek was annoyed - not with his son, with you.

Since the moment he had found out that you were pregnant, Derek loved his son more than anything in the world. He loved you just as much, he had right from the moment he had slashed Peter's throat and then turned you where you were dying, bleeding out, and used his newfound Alpha powers to turn you in order to save your life. Because that was the moment he knew he would risk anything and everything in order to keep you alive.

He loved you very much, but he was still annoyed with you.

You were determined not to let Derek sleep with his son - a tradition as old as pack life itself, now being marred by you shoving articles in Derek's face about how co-sleeping was 'dangerous' and how the baby should have his own crib. A baby of only three months old should not be damned to isolation. It made Derek's heart ache just thinking about it. He was used to the comfort of your body - he was used to the sync of your heartbeat, the sound of his voice and Derek's constantly nearby. He shouldn't be off in the corner by himself. You had made Derek feel like some criminal, sneaking out of bed at one in the morning to pluck his son out of that damned crib in order to spend some time with him.

And now, Alexander was sleeping peacefully on his bare chest, skin to skin as nature intended, feeling the peace of his father's heartbeat as Derek dozed into a gentle sleep himself on the sofa himself. He was - until he heard the distinct squeak of the bed springs on your side, a distinct huff from you as you got out of bed.

"Derek," You sighed when you saw what he had done, crossing your arms over your chest - it was an entirely appealing sight; the incredibly small baby perched in the middle of his bare chest, so tiny against Derek's large, muscled frame. But it did make you worry - Alexander wasn't secured in any way - he could fall, he could roll off. Even though Derek was an incredibly capable, loving parent, even in the haze of sleep, he could roll over and crush the baby.

It scared you.

"What - are you gonna take him from me?" He glared at you, deep betrayal in his voice. It was clear that the only thing keeping him from raising his voice further was the restraint not to yell so close to the baby's ear. "Do you honestly think that I would hurt my son?"

You held back tears, hating how much the insinuation clearly pained Derek.

"Never." You told him, your own tears choking your throat. "Derek, I know that you would never hurt him intentionally. But-"

"Exactly." He replied, cutting you off. "And there is nothing that will harm him. I am not going to let it happen."

You sighed, putting a hand to your forehead in frustration.

Derek shook his head, sitting up, putting a hand against Alexander's diapered bum to support him - able to hold nearly the entirety of his tiny body with one hand.

"Didn't you notice that all of those articles you read are written by humans?" He pointed out. "This is something that my family has done for generations. Our senses are honed for stuff like this. The moment that a baby is born, we sleep differently. Haven't you noticed?"

You had noticed - you felt like you had been sleeping with only half your brain, like a shark. You thought it was something your mother had warned you about, how you would never get a full night's rest again after having a baby. But it felt different. You did wake up rested, but you didn't dream anymore. You felt conscious nearly the entire time you were asleep - hyper aware of everything, your body responsive to every single coo, every little noise the baby made. You became hyper aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat while you slept, often using it as a white noise machine while you laid there.

"Yeah." You admitted - Derek gave you a subtle smug grin, and nodded.

"I'm not going to hurt him, not even by accident - because I can't." Derek told you firmly. "I will wake up the minute he cries, and I won't shift in my sleep. And this is healthy for us. Our heartbeats will sync up and this will help him sleep better. Please, just trust me on this."

Derek rarely pleaded with you about things, rather than outright telling you - so you knew that this mattered to him greatly.

"Yes. I trust you." You told him. "Come back to bed?" You posed. "All of us in the same bed."

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss you before he got up off the couch, bringing your son with him.

(When you woke up the next morning, the crib was smashed to pieces, and Derek - who was in the kitchen making breakfast with Alexander still pressed to one shoulder - claimed that he had no idea how it happened.)

...

Teen Wolf Masterlist

[cherryheairt]

Hi :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👑

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👑

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myria leaned forward, too, curious of his answer. Would he allow his heir to love an elf with no royale blood?

"You are right, I would not." Thranduil chuckled humorlessly at the thought of it. Myria bit her tongue, hurt by the comment indirectly. She was no common-born Elf, sure, but had no royal blood to speak of either. She deflated in her seat, drinking down the rest of her wine. "Do not give him hope where there is none."

Is that what Thranduil had been doing for Myria, merely giving her hope? Slivers of special attention, with no intentions of truly loving her. She stood from her seat, leaving the chambers without a word.

Tauriel, too, left quickly after that.

Thranduil stood alone in his chambers, looking at the spot where Myria had once been.

👑

The feast came and passed quickly, Myria in no mood to sing or dance like she usual did at such events. She attended for the sake of politeness, leaving when she had greeted enough people for the night.

She spend the rest of it wallowing in her chambers.

Word got out that the entire party of Dwarves escaped, and Myria silently applauded them for their boldness. She hoped, for their sake, that they were successful in freeing their home.

Days passed, and news of Smaug's death had spread to every corner of Middle Earth. Thranduil was quick to organize his army to march toward Erebor, wasting no time to retrieve his precious gems. Myria had come along on her own white elk mount, following behind Thranduil silently, if only to satiate her curiosity. Last time they had come, Thranduil had rejected the Dwarves' desperate plea for help. This time, he came to declare war if they refused to return his gems.

The damned gems. Always on his mind. True, they were a physical reminder of his late wife and Queen. But it seemed as though he dwelled on them more than he cherished her memory. He did not speak of her, ever. Even to his own son, his wife was but a ghost haunting the halls.

Myria couldn't begin to understand the loss of a spouse, but she did understand that he was too caught up in himself.

Even though she had little intention of fighting the Dwarves, Myria still brought a dagger and bow on the march. Could never be too careful, Thranduil always reminded her. She guided her elk to stand behind his, watching him greet the human leader stiffly. It was almost laughable how mad his manners were, his kingly presence deemed to good for polite small talk.

Myria had been given a temporary quarter near Thranduil's, their tents close as they usually were. He had been too busy to notice her absence lately, both to her joy and displeasure. She missed his daily warmth around her, but knew it was best to distance himself from him. Just this last journey, then she sould go back to Rivendell to live out the rest of her long and lonesome life.

Thranduil plotted with the human leader, Bard, and a wizard by the name of Gandalf. Myria wandered the decrepit town while they did, having no place in war council, nor did she wish to.

By the time she had returned, night had fallen and all the humans of the town were asleep. Myria ducked into her tent, desperate for some solid rest before a potential battle on the morrow. She was surprised to see Thranduil sitting awkwardyl on her cot.

"Thranduil? What are you doing here, you should be resting." Myria insisted, brow furrowed.He stood at her entrance, possibly being left waiting for quite a while.

"I wished to see you before we go to Erebor's gates in the morning. I suspect that the Dwarf will have something up his tiny sleeve. I know you are a capable fighter, but I want you to stay in town tomorrow just in case."

She protested sharply, "I am just as much a fighter as any elf in your army. I will not sit around and wait for you to return–"

"Please, Myria." He rested both of his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her with his deep blue eyes "I could not focus if I knew you were behind me somewhere. If I know you are safe, I can retrieve the jewels easier." Always about the jewels. He should have married them, she thought bitterly.

"Is that an order?"

"It is a request. From a friend." Thranduil said softly.

Myria bit her cheek, crossing her arms. "Fine. I will stay here on the morrow. But, if any fighting breaks out, I will join."

He seemed content with her answer, knowing its as far as he'll get with her stubbornness. "Very well, I'll see you when this is over." He planted a tender kiss to the top of her head before he left to his own tent.

👑

Myria could only watch from afar as negotiations with the Dwarves had clearly gone to shit. More dwarves had shown up, an entire army to match the Elves' golden one. Myria rushed back to grab her bow, bursting out of her tent to the sound of screams in the town. Surely the Dwarves wouldn't target the women and children who had stayed behind?

She was right. It was orcs who had invaded the town, cutting off exits as they slashed through defenseless crowds of people. Myria rushed to help whoever she could, shooting down orcs' fat heads whenever they got too close to a fleeing human. With her dagger, she slashed through whoever she could reach to retrieve each of her arrows.

This arduous process repeated for some time, Myria panting with effort as she continued. The sounds of screams toned done as golden-armored soldiers flooded into the cobble streets and started to push back at the beastly creatins. Myria breathed a sigh of relief, engaging another orc. It was larger than most, with armor protecting its head and chest. She slashed at his with a sword she had taken from dead enemy, yelping when he stabbed into her abdomen with his own weapon. She gasped, trying to keep her composure as he approached above her menacingly. As he lifted his sword above his head again, ready to strike down the Elf, his head was detached from his body in a spray of hot blood.

Myria flinched at the feeling on her skin, feeling disgusted more than she already was with the sweat and dirt covering her. Thranduil came from behind the orc, who was now dead on the floor. He crouched down in front of her, a frantic look in his eye that betrayed his regal appearance. "Myria, look at me!" He shouted, her blurry vision shakily focusing on him. He held her face in his hands, watching her try to keep them open. "It's okay, I'll get you help." Thranduil promised her, gingerly lifting her up princess style. He flinched when she protested in pain, clutching at her stomach to stop the blood from gushing out.

"It's okay, you'll be alright, sweet." He told her, repeating himself multiple times as if to convince himself, too.

He brought her outside of the town, where Elven medics had set up a discreet few tents disguised to the orc's vision by Elven magic. The King layed her gently on a stiff cot, petting her hair comfortingly as she screamed in pain at the medic disinfecting and stitching her wound up. He glared at the Elf assigned to help her, making the poor young fellow sweat in fear of messing uo in front of his King.

Eventually, the sounds outside died out. Thranduil regretted taking his forces to this pit of death. He had lost more Elves today than had ever been lost at one time since the Great War. Elves did not die easily. This was a massacre of great damage to their ranks, to their people. Thranduil mourned the deaths of his kin dearly.

Myria had calmed, pain dulling when given some numbing herbs. She focused her attention on Thranduil, "you came for me." She said, voice barely a whisper.

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Your gems...they're still locked away in the keep, aren't they?" She asked.

"The gems are not my priority. They are merely objects, remembrances. You are alive, I need you."

Myria felt tears blurr her vision, clamping her throat shut. "But–I am not from any important bloodline. I am not a Princess, nor—"

"I do not care. You are Myria. The woman who has been by my side for five thousand years. The only lady worthy of being Queen by my side is you."

Thranduil took her into his arms as she cried. He shushed her gently, hands locked into her hair as she clung to him.

"I love you, Thranduil. I have for a long, long time."

"And I, you, my dearest Myr."

[impactedfates]

hehhaharhar i so totally not deprived of father figure! genshin men with kidnapped child reader? pls pls 💓💓💓any man is fine but perferably the tall ones ☝

★ A/N: Yeah sure you aren't...anyways, yep I got you covered with this request :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Childe, Kaveh)

☆ Warnings: Mentions and hints of kidnapping // Mentions of death (In Diluc and Childes) // Spoilers for the Liyue Archon quest if you have not done it yet // Mentions of going to the hospital (Kavehs)

★ Extra: Reader is adopted in Zhonglis one // Reader is shorter then most characters (They're about 6-7 age wise) // Reader has no vision // Reader is ofc NOT traveler

For whatever reason I can see it being a Fatui that kidnapped you. Perhaps to get payback for the massacre Diluc caused back in Snenznaya. Whatever the reason, once Diluc finds out you’re gone and it was because of the Fatui? Oh he’s more then pissed.

If they wanted to upset him, they succeeded. Perhaps too successfully as when he finally finds you, most of the Fatui that’s been there to ensure you don’t escape has been soaking in a pool of their own blood. He of course won’t hurt anyone violently if you’re in the room, but he will knock the other people in there out. He’ll pick you up and hide your face in his chest as he calmly walks out.

When you are back home, he’ll take a few days off work to ensure you’re okay after what happened, and maybe if it comes to it he may actually ask some of the Knights of Favonius for help as well.

Honestly whether or not he actually hurt anyone is up to you, however I do think that when it comes to family, he isn't that hesitant to be a bit more violent then usual.

Getting adopted and having your father being the ex-archon of Liyue had it's ups and downs, especially as you witnessed your father continuously forget his wallet, however never have you thought you'd get kidnapped.

You weren't sure why though, Zhongli had kept his identity a secret and the only ones knowing were other Archons and the traveler as far as you knew plus Zhongli in his "mortal" form isn't that much of an important figure to others, nor is he famous. Yet here you were, treasure hoarders surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Zhongli was panicking wondering where you went. One second you were close behind him, the next you were gone. So he quickly called upon some of the adeptus to search for you and thankfully, you also had the privilege to call upon Xiaos name and he'll come right to your side. Whatever happened to the treasure hoarders?

You're not sure, Xiao simply teleported you away and right into your fathers arms as he held you tight before disappearing into the green mist once again. Zhongli checks all over you to ensure you aren't hurt. After that day, he's sure to always have an eye on you and when he cannot. An adeptus will look out for you from afar.

Being a Knight, and a captain in fact. Kaeya definitely encountered people wanting to push his cool persona over the edge. It's part of the reason why he's a bit hesitant on growing closer to certain loved ones.

He's afraid of loosing them, so when he lost you. He did not take it well, despite his cool demeanour when he ordered some knights to go search for you, people like Jean and his brother Diluc were quick to see he was in a state of panic, Jean even offered to take over the search so Kaeya could relax but he didn't want too. He had to find you safe and sound, even if that meant he had to get hurt.

When you are finally found, he's quick to take whoever's responsible away and have Jean deal with them properly as he himself brings you to Barbara who checks for injuries you may have sustained. He's by your side at all times and may even be hesitant to leave your side.

Even though Jean likely did give him some time off to spend time with you and for him to cool down after what happened, he's still unwilling to leave you alone, even with another babysitter. He does reluctantly agree when his older brother offers to take care of you. He knows Diluc is strong and will be able to protect you. (Better than Diluc protecting him anyways)

Whoever kidnapped you must have a death wish or something...

Of course it's easy to see why someone were to kidnap you. I mean, being the kid of not only the fatui, but a harbinger. It's clear why someone tried to kidnap Tartaglia's kid but...it's not smart either.

The Fatui have a large amount of people working for them, and most aren't afraid to attack. And due to the fact Childe is a harbinger, it's easy for him to get people to find you as soon as he knows of your disappearance and when you are found, he asks his subordinates to take you back to his house where his family will look after you whilst Childe *cough cough* uh...deals with the perps responsible.

He'll come back soon, cleaned up but faintly smelling of blood and double checks to see you're okay. Now he does go back to work faster then anyone else, this is mainly because I don't think he'll really be allowed time off, however he does have some subordinates keep an eye on you from afar.

Oh archons, he is p a n i c k i n g. Once Kaveh finds out you've been kidnapped he's so worried, it takes Alhaitham to actually shake him to get him to finally focus on finding you. Unfortunately unlike the others listed in this post so far, he cannot easily go looking for you himself. However being friends with Cyno does mean you have the General of the Mahamatra looking for you and he is good at his job.

It may take awhile but eventually Cyno does find you, and after dealing with the kidnappers and arresting them. Takes you to the Sumeru hospital (they have one right?) to get healed as he tells Kaveh that you've been found.

Kaveh stays by your side no matter what, he'll sleep on the damn floor of the hospital if he has too, he doesn't even leave you once you're discharged from it either. He feels so guilty about what happened and blames himself so he tries his best to make more time with you. Even if this means his debts may increase, he just wants to spend as much time with you as possible encase this happens again.

And hey, Alhaitham may be kind enough to dismiss Kavehs missed rent payment that month.

Weehee. I actually enjoyed writing this :D However next time please make sure to check to see if my requests are open before sending one in, in any case I hope you liked this <33

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Mentions of gore and blood. Smut.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, thank you so much for your patience! I really needed a day or two or three to rest and relax! I was just doing the maths, and since I have combined some of my chapters to make them longer (and tbh might do it again) there is 110 chapters of SFA! So we have 10 left!! ( I do have plans for an epilogue planned after as well) HOLY SMOKES! Thank you all so much for your love and support and kind words AS ALWAYS! I fucking adore you guys. Anyway, enjoy! <3

Chapter 100: The One-Eyed King 

King Aemond, First of his Name, took you atop the Iron Throne more times than you could count, plunging into your wet heat whilst the body of his brother lay cold on the stones behind you.

By the end of your passionate embrace, you knew that you would be aching for days to come, and when you finally removed yourselves from the throne of melted swords, it was done with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a passionate kiss. 

You made your way down the steps, eyes locked onto the corpse of Aegon, the blood around him soaked through the stones. You paused as you looked at him, at his body, at the way the blood had trickled from his gaping mouth.

You thought of how he had raped you.

How he had mocked you.

Hit you. 

Usurped the throne from your mother, and been the catalyst for your brothers death.

You thought, in that moment, of everything he had done to you and to Aemond.

How he caused you to lose your child. 

Anger rolled through you, rage simmered, chest feeling impossibly tight.

But Aegon was gone.

And he could hurt you no longer. 

He could touch you no longer. 

You reared your head back, swirling your tongue and for the final time, spat onto his corpse, leg shooting out to kick the head that lay on its side forcefully with the toe of your boot, Aegon's skull skidding across the stones, wet sticky blood leaving a trail behind.

The hand on your back pushed you forward, a soft, 'that’s enough' whispered into the shell of your ear. You heaved angry broken breaths, inhaling deeply once to calm yourself before you moved forward, head held high as the King, your King, walked you towards the Small Council chambers.

The walk was swift, and it still felt as though your mind had not fully caught up to everything that had happened. But you would have to deal with that later. Right now you needed to be present.

Or as present as you could be.

As you came up the stairs, you could hear the voices of those inside, bickering amongst each other as they waited for you to arrive. The doors were opened by the guards stationed at the doors, and a hush fell across the room. 

You walked in together, and all bowed towards you. 

All except Alicent, who hissed from across the room, eyes red and tear tracks staining her cheeks, as she raced across the room, all fury, towards her son.

It reminded you of the night Aemond lost his eye.

“You have killed your own brother!” Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, horror, and anger, and disgust on her features. But what was more, beneath it all, there was fear.

Alicent was afraid.

Aemond simply looked down at his mother and hummed, lips pursing forward in thought. 

The hand moved through the space faster than anyone could have reacted, striking Aemond across the cheek with a loud slap. Alicent’s chest heaved, and Otto came behind her to drag her backwards, whispering into her ear to try and calm his daughter.

Aemond’s head had barely moved, not a hair was out of place, nor had he flinched when she struck him. As though he had been expecting it to come. As though he expected nothing less of his mother. As though it had happened, once, twice, three times before. 

And it had. 

Your husband chose to ignore his mothers rage filled glare, and moved towards the head of the table, your own feet slowly trailing after him. Aemond held open a hand to the table, ordering the men to be seated, and then he looked to you. 

You were still standing beside him, and with a shift of his palm, and an almost imperceptible nod of his head, you were directed to the seat beside him.

A seat at the Small Council. 

Before you on the table was your council stone, round and seated within its dish.

You had a place in the council.

Alicent Hightower however, did not sit, her seat now filled by you, and her fury rolled off of her in waves that crashed against the dark oak of the table. Her hands shook, and as you watched her, you could see that she was merely holding on by a thread.

It was the first time since the night of Aemond’s eye where you had seen her so shaken.

The King's cold gaze lifted to his mother, and with a soft and careful voice, he told her to sit.

The Dowager Queen’s hands shook at her side, clenching and unclenching, hair wild and out of place, and it wasn’t until that moment as you watched her did you noticed the small stains of blood against the green of her gown. The dried coppery substance had stained her fingertips and hands as she had held the corpse of her son.

Alicent did not sit, lifting a hand to her mouth, pressing it roughly into her skin with worry as she looked to all the Lords who followed Aemond’s command without question.

It was hard to not feel some sort of pity towards her, some sort of empathy, because despite everything, she was still a woman who had lost so much. Three of her children to be exact. And you knew there to be no greater loss in the world than a mother who mourns their child.

The King sat straight in his chair, and addressed the men at the table, "As you were all aware, Aegon was to set the realm to ruins. Rebellions had begun in Riverrun, and more and more of our support had begun to turncloak. His lack of action has made us quick enemies.”

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement from across the table.

Aemond continued, “He was to bring the realm to war again. Aegon's inability to listen to the council’s recommendations for Flea Bottom had caused uprisings from the small folk down in the slums. Our Kings Guards and Gold Cloaks have been working day and night to keep them at bay.”

You shifted in your seat at the mention of war and the rebellions.

“My time in Harrenhal proved to be an enlightening one. Our men who reside there were ready to erupt into battle with Rhaenyra’s allies. But hers are larger in numbers, and with the North at her side, she is a formidable foe. My uncle Daemon would torch the realm, allies or not. He has no care for the lives lost if that meant crumbling our power.” The Maester played with his council stone before him in thought, the chain of his tunic shifting, “This disruption to the dust that we had once settled, caused trade from the Golden Tooth to halt, and thus our reserves and coin have dwindled.”

Their coin has dwindled.

They’re losing power.

Gods be good, the tides are shifting.

The old Maester leant forward on the table, holding his sphere, “I had received word from the Red Fork that the Blacks, after the commandeering of their small folks trading ships, have doubled their fleet power with Lord Corlys’ warships to block any exit or entrance for our men.”

Your eyes skimmed over the table, and landed on a pair of dark brown eyes. 

Larys Strong was watching you. 

And he was smiling.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Law, picked up his sphere to speak, “Perhaps if we make a distinction that our purpose at the Red Fork is mere-“

“-Have you gone to madness?!” Alicent shrieked, charging towards the table on the opposite side of Aemond, hands slamming onto the wood as she sneered at her son, “You have slain your brother, the King, and now you move forward with business and trade?!”

“Aemond is King.” Your voice floated across the table, looking up at the woman through your eyelashes.

The Hightower woman’s face darkened, “You have willed him into slaying his brother. A manipulation most foul! How much more must we all fall prey to your-“

“Quiet.” Aemond’s voice cut across the room, and Alicent’s lips snapped closed, “For years you have defended Aegon and his actions, and it has become our ruin.”

His voice became deeper, louder, and more grating, “Tis I the younger brother who studied history, philosophy, and is trained with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should have been put forth for the crown, not that useless wastrel I called my brother."

Aemond shifted, leaning forward towards his mother as he looked up at her, "Aegon never took interest in his birthright and duty, whoring and drinking and serving his own interests which set ours back for miles. I have done what needed to be done. What should have been done. I wear the Conquerors Crown. I ride upon Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons, Queen Visenya once rode. I am the King.” His eye did not blink once, staring down his mother, who’s anger bled from her face, and fear resurfaced in its place.

Aemond turned to look out at his Councilmen, meeting each and every eye, “If anyone dare question my authority, I shall have you removed from these chambers and the council.”

You blinked.

And the world came crashing back towards you, as though you had been plucked from the sky once more, and tumbled down to earth. Because the reality was far more than what you had realised. Far more than what you had even had a chance to feel.

Aemond was King.

King.

And what did that mean for the treaty?

A small piece of anxiety began to worm its way through your bones, nipping at the tips of your fingers, down to the heels of your feet, burrowing under your skin with an insistence that you could not ignore or push down. Your mouth felt dry as you looked out at the table, looking at all the Lords, who gazed back, before you finally turned to face your husband. 

His eye was already on you.

With hands that shook, you lifted your sphere from its place, the weight of it stopping the uneven movement. It was heavy and smooth, and as you look down at it and turned your hand, you found the courage to speak, placing it gently back into its spot, rolling it within its small bed.

“What does this mean for the treaty?” You questioned, fingers pressing into the sphere far harder than needed.

Aemond’s eye flickered in recognition, but settled quickly, grazing over your face and down to your hand. The rest of the Lords at the table waited with bated breath.

It was clear that all wondered what was to come now after the death of Aegon.

What would become of the treaty? 

The treaty had been made with Aegon, not Aemond. 

Aemond’s jaw clenched, holding your gaze for a moment more whilst your stomach spun and flipped. Blinking, he looked away, turning to his Small Council, “You are dismissed. We shall reconvene on the morrow.”

You frowned, continuing to stare at him as the men shuffled out of the room silently, Alicent being all but dragged out by her father Otto Hightower.

It was then, that anxiety truly settled in your bones. 

“Go to our chambers, I will be there with you shortly.” Aemond spoke to you softly.

“But-“

“-Now.” Aemond commanded, tone clipped.

His word was final.

And after today, you did not wish to push his luck. The blood of his brother was still dried upon his face, having not been washed away. Evidence and proof of just how far he was willing to go. And if anyone knew the extent of his wrath, it would be you.

You swallowed thickly and stood on shaky legs, bowing your head to your husband as you left the Small Council chambers, and headed for your own. 

The walk was swift, nervous energy carrying you quickly to your shared quarters, where you paced before the fire place in wait. 

What did this mean for the treaty now?

What would Aemond do?

Was your family in danger?

Would he renew the terms?

Was war to come?

You spent the better part of what felt like an hour, walking back and fourth, thoughts tumbling through your mind like jagged rocks, scraping against the sides sharply. Your fingers coming to your mouth where you bit the nails down until they bled.

When the doors finally opened, you spun on your heel, facing Aemond as he entered, crown still atop his head. His fathers blade was now at his side, which he leant against the chaise, and he moved quickly towards you, one hand coming to cup your cheek.

His movements were sharp, and at first you had been frightened, but as you leant into the warmth of his palm as he stroked your skin, you looked into his gaze and saw it. 

Lust. 

Swallowing your anxiety, and pushing all your questions to the back of your mind, you dropped to your knees for a second time that day, willingly, the skin bruised and protesting, but hands that shook making quick work of his breeches as he looked down at you, eye half half lidded with desire.

For it would be better to broach these questions when he was disarmed.

When you pulled him from his pants, he was half erect, and so you worked him with your hand, and the tip of your tongue until he was hard and heavy in your own palm. Your fingers wrapped around him as you took him into your mouth, the muskiness of his own taste spreading across your tongue, as well as the subtle tang of your own release on his length from earlier. 

Aemond groaned from above, hand smoothing your hair from your face as you bobbed your head along his length, hollowing your cheeks and feeling his tip press against the back of your throat. The King gripped your hair and pulled you down his length, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose as you gagged.

Your husband guided you up and down his length, before pulling you off of him with a pop. 

Lifting you up towards him, Aemond crashed his lips against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you gasped in his grip, his hands spinning you around to push you forward over the table. Your hands splayed out, knocking over an ink pot that sat on the surface, its dark ink spreading across the wood and parchment. 

The skirts of your dress were hiked up your thighs and pushed onto your back, revealing your wet, and leaking centre to the room. Aemond knelt behind you as anticipation swept through you.

You felt his sharp nose press into the flesh of your ass as he gently bit the skin causing you to whimper, before moving down to part your folds with one long swipe of his tongue. 

You moaned loudly, pushing your hips backwards to meet him as he continued, lapping at your wetness, and his seed which leaked from you from your coupling on the Iron Throne. Pleasure wound its way through you, bud and folds overestimated and sensitive from the day of fucking, and before no time at all, Aemond brought you to your peak. 

You cried out against the wood, hands digging into it as he stood, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you with a harsh grunt. Your breasts were pressed against the wooden surface, sensitive and aching as they rubbed against the hard table top.

Your body jolted against the table with every thrust, hip bones pressing painfully against the edge of the wood, which only added to your pleasure. Aemond rutted into you in a frenzy, grunts and curses coming from behind you as he gripped your hips roughly, each stroke brushing against the spongey spot within you. 

You cried out, watching as the ink seeped into the wood of the table, nails digging into the surface. 

It looked like the stones did.

How Aegon looked.

How his blood seeped across the floor before you.

Thick and inky-

“Fuck.” Aemond grunted, “Squeezing my cock so tightly.”

You moaned loudly, hand reaching beneath your skirts so that you could press your fingers to your pearl. You rubbed neat circles into the sensitive nerves, sighing as you did, your release rapidly climbing once more. 

“Killed that fucking cunt for you. Killed my brother for this fucking perfect cunt. Fuck. Going to give you an heir.”

Each clap of his hips was bruising, and soon the both of you tumbled over the edge together, the King pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, cock throbbing as it spurted his seed deep within.

You collapsed, face resting against the wood, small strands of your hair having gotten wet by the ink that had been spilt. No doubt joining the blood that stained your hair too. You breathed heavily, letting your release to spread through you warmly.

Aemond rested his cheek against your back, hot breath fanning across your skin as he came down from his high, before he slowly pulled out of you with a groan.

In a tangle of limbs, the two of you stripped each other, the crown sitting beside the bed, as you crawled beneath the sheets facing him, spent from the days events, spent from his cock, and spent from the anxiety that continued to linger in the back of your mind. 

The both of you lay on your sides, looking at one another as he smoothed a hand over your shoulder and down your arm in a repetitive motion. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

His eye danced over your face, a finger coming to brush against your cheek where you felt a dry flake fall away. 

A dry flake of blood. 

Aegon’s blood.

Aemond was lost in his thoughts.

“Skoros issi ao otāpagon, ñuha jorrāelagon?” What are you thinking, my love? You whispered to him quietly, watching as his eye flicked back and forth on yours.

“Olvie hen mirre.” Most and all, Came his quiet reply.

You shifted, moving closer to him, hand pressed against his chest, “Gaomagon daor ōregon ziry isse. Ȳdragon ziry” Do not hold it in. Speak it.

You watched as your husbands chest rose and fell, a static quiet around the both of you. He leant forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead, and then another against your cheek.

“Ānogar kessa ropagon naejot nūmo se rūklun, se mazilībagon se vējes hembar." Blood will be spilt to seed the garden, and set the future sway, “Iā pāletilla vēttan hen ānogar.” A crown forged of blood, Aemond whispered, “Issa hae vestas.” It is as she said.

“Issa.” It is, You agreed, pausing before you spoke again, “Aemond?”

Your uncle’s gaze was locked on a strand of your hair that he brushed gently with his fingers. He hummed, raising his eye to you.

“Sir bona iksā Dārys, kostagon jān naejot ūndegon ñuha lentor?” Now that you are King, can I go to see my family?

Aemond watched your face closely, hand stilling in your hair before it dropped to your shoulder heavily. 

You breathed in, and out. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. 

His hand started to move again. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause. 

Up, down, pause.

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You questioned again, “Kessa ao ivestragī nyke ūndegon ñuha muña?” Will you let me see my mother?

Up, down.

Pause.

“Kesi jorrāelagon naejot ȳdragon nūmāzma se treaty ēlī.” We will need to speak about the treaty first.

But there was no treaty now following the death of Aegon.

Now the prospect of war returning was a real one.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingers against his cheek and scar, fingers delicately tracing it.

It was jagged and not as smooth as you would have thought when you first saw it. The closer you were, the more you could see the small little dotted scars that lined it, courtesy of the Maester’s stitches.

“Kostilus, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon zirȳ.  Gaomagon daor ōdrikagon ñuha lentor.  Hae aōha ābrazȳrys, aōha jorrāelagon, nyke epagon ao, kostilus.” Please, do not harm them. Do not hurt my family. As your wife, your love, I ask you, please. 

Aemond hummed and leant forward to press another kiss to your forehead. 

He did not answer your plea.

Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

Where Aegon had anger, Aemond had wrath. 

Where Aegon stewed, Aemond seethed.

Where Aegon saw reason, Aemond saw vengeance.

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[alavestineneas]

and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

-

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

-

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

-

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

-

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

-

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

[bedoballoons]

Considering my love language is physical touch and all I want after a long day is a hug this literally makes my heart just like melt!! Thank you for this request and I hope you enjoy!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~A hug a day~༺}

CW: GN! Reader! Mentions of the character being down in the dumps/sad, reader has a kind of sunshine personality and of course fluffy!!

Pet names used on reader: Mon amour, My dear, honey, my sweet

(Includes: Lyney, Diluc, Kaveh, Alhaitham and Neuvillette!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney rested his head on his arm, slowly turning his hat by the brim as it sat on the table in front of him...to say he'd had a bad day was a understatement. Out of all the things a magician could have happen to them during a performance, having their trick explained by a crowd member who then got everyone else riled up...was probably one of the worst. He could still hear the boos...and feel the embarrassment flow through his veins as things were thrown at him on stage.

"Oh what a day..." He sighed and you could hear his sadness in it, that was the last straw...you couldn't just leave him upset. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, hugging him tightly, "Those people are just mean, your shows are amazing and just because they called out one trick doesn't matter cause you will just come back stronger. I know you Lyney... don't let that one low life make you feel down...you're ten times more incredible then they will ever be."

You felt him tense at your touch, but quickly he melted into it and you could see his smile returning already, "Ah Mon amour, you're right. How can I feel sad when I have you, I'm luckier than any guy in the world. Thank you for reminding me."

𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc swirled the grape juice in his cup, wishing he could simply forget the things he'd learned today. Gathering intel was normally easy for him, he'd use it to protect Mondstat...the ones he loved, but learning the dangers, what he was truly up against...it made him worry. How could he protect everyone against something so treacherous... "Can I really do it all alone?"

"Alone? You're not alone."

He sat up straighter, not expecting a answer...not expecting you to be walking towards him, how you always managed to know when he was in need of you was a mystery to him.. "When did you get back?" You smiled at him and wrapped your arms tight around his chest, "Just a second ago, I had a feeling something was wrong and that you needed a hug. Was I right?"

"More then you could know, thank you. My dear."

𑁍༄Kaveh:

Kaveh tossed his sketchbook onto the table, his pencil snapping between his fingers as his free hand ran through his blonde hair. Normally he'd just take a step back, cool off before returning to his happy self but the whole day had just been... well not great and not being able to sketch was the nail in the coffin. "I swear if one more thing goes wrong I- huh?"

He looked down at you as you embraced him tightly, your face snuggling into his chest, "It's okay Kaveh, we all have those kinds of days but I'm here and I'll make it a good day. How about I make some snacks, we can look at old photos and cuddle up on the couch."

Whatever he was feeling before you touched him...it was gone, just one hug and he felt better, he was almost convinced at this point you had some type of magic, "I would love that...thank you honey. Sorry you had to see my little freak out...aha not my proudest moment..."

"Everyone has them Kaveh, it's okay."

"Ah...what would I do without you?"

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham knew he didn't handle things like everyone else did, when others had bad days they'd get upset and stressed, take time to themselves...even cry, but he was far better at hiding how he felt. He'd stay in his study...reading for hours until whatever had made his day hard was but a small needle in a haystack of information...or at least that's what he used to do.

Now he had you and you weren't one to let him lock himself away, you would hold him tight even when he'd never usually accept hugs and for some reason...he enjoyed them. Having you so close, feeling your heart beat against his chest, instead of being alone for hours and reading till even he got a headache...it merely took a few minutes with you.

"Better?"

"Better."

𑁍༄Nuevillette:

Rain was batting against the windows, water pouring down the glass outside...and it had been going on for over a hour now. He'd have to apologize to everyone at some point, normally cases wouldn't bother the chief of justice, he'd been doing his job so long nothing really got to him...but the last one, what gruesome case it was and it had ended in such a horrible way...none of it even necessary.

"Neuvillette...you've been staring out the window for a long time. Are you alright?" You looked at him slightly worried, your instincts kicking in as you hugged his side...he wasn't really allowed to share the details of alot of his work, but you could always tell when the clouds appeared that one had gotten to him.

He looked at you for a moment and placed a kiss on your forehead, feeling his burden of information slowly grow lighter as your touch lingered, "Yes im alright my sweet, just...keep close to me for a second longer and the storm will clear."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧