#insect sitting on flower
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billionneuronscurious · 4 months ago
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A hemipteran bug sitting on Celosia sp. (Cockscomb) as it rains.
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flufflecat · 8 months ago
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I met a lovely bumblebee a few days ago (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡
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cinimuffin · 2 years ago
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Messing around in photoshop
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rusted-phone-calls · 5 months ago
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I miss touching grass
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rex3o · 2 months ago
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Doting wife p2
Royal au! Sukuna x Reader
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Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.
Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.
During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.
Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.
He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.
His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.
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You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?
Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.
The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.
"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.
Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.
"I miss you." he says.
"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.
"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.
"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."
He hesistatess before continuing.
"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."
You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.
"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.
"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."
He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"
As he rests his large hand over yours.
"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."
His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.
"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.
"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.
Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.
"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.
Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.
After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.
An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.
"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.
"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.
"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.
"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.
You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.
"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.
"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.
"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.
In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.
The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.
part 1
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Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.
- R
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talkbycolor · 7 months ago
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MC's kindergarden . . . ↷
Yanderes as toddlers AU
GN!Reader as a teacher who doesnt get paid enough for this.
CW: just a bunch of weird kids wanting to marry their teacher, keep scrolling
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Sunny Day Jack.
the golden child, the angel of the classroom, he is a little devil in disguise, getting his classmates into trouble so that his teacher thinks he is the best
he looks like a mini teacher, he teaches colors to his classmates and shares everything (except the teacher)
uses guilt to convince his teacher, but with that little face and red cheeks, who wouldn't fall for it?
a very intelligent child but he is selfish, he learned to steal cookies from the kitchen and has not told anyone
he gives part of his lunch to his teacher, he likes to eat and sit next to him, he is the child who gives bouquets of flowers picked from the playground (MC already scolded him so he should look for other places to get flowers)
MC doesn't usually scold him often since he manipulates and makes kicked puppy eyes to get his way, a mini bastard
John Doe.
probably autistic and socially anxious child, very attached to MC, they must always accompany him to go to the bathroom, he eats in the classroom during recess time while MC teacher accompanies him
this is the child you have to make sure doesn't go through the trash or eat the crayons
he is actually a very sweet boy, MC usually combs his hair before school so it doesn't bother him, for some reason Doe always has it tangled and dirty
he can't count to 10 with his hands, poor thing
cat-like affection, gives insects or interesting things he found on the playground to his teacher
when the children play house, he is the mascot
Alan Orion.
boy obsessed with outer space, his lunch box and clothes are full of planets and stars
wants to impress MC with his knowledge about space, he usually tells them facts about galaxies and constellations during classes
MC of course would notice certain marks on Alan's little body, he would feel protective of the child (llamen al dif)
he steals things from his classmates, he was already scolded several times by MC
animal lover, once brought a moth he found on the playground into the classroom and Doe ate it, he cried for thirty minutes while MC comforted him
when he plays with puppets he pretends that one puppet is him and the other is MC, usually his games are of them getting married and living in the forest
Peter Dunbar.
a very sociable child simply because he is indifferent to all other people other than MC, he enjoys causing mischief to his classmates who play with MC
MC has to make sure Peter doesn't bite his fingers or scratch his face, a habit he has while concentrating
Peter looks like a bald rat when it's very hot weather, which MC finds funny, but they still puts sunscreen on him so the boy doesn't get sun-burned
even though there are many things that Peter doesn't like, like swimming, fruits or singing, he would do it for MC, adding the biggest embarrassment of his life by doing group dance with his classmates but happy to see his favorite teacher smiling
he would bring sweet lunches to share with his teacher, lying by saying that it is too much and he can't eat it all by himself (Peter loves sweet lunches but he loves his teacher more)
probably draws him and MC on the board with lots of hearts around them, causing the other kids in the classroom to start crying because they want to be the only ones for MC
Ren.
a cutie with his teacher, a bastard with everyone else, he knows how to maintain that image very well to fool MC
he sneaks into the staff room to see you, very attentive, isn't he? sometimes he leaves small gifts on your table
fights with Peter every time he tries to get him in trouble with the teacher, he must maintain his good boy reputation for you to love him!
the last time a girl confessed to him, Ren pushed her into the mud of the playground and made her cry, unfortunately the girl told MC and Ren also cried, not because of the scolding but because he didn't want MC to think that he was bad
once he saw you outside of class time, you were at the supermarket and he panicked because he had fake tattoos that he put on (they came in the packaging of the gum he ate)
MC would come to think that Ren lives in a super religious way since he always draws angels. Ren doesn't draw angels, he draws an angel (you)
Mycheal.
another little manipulator but this one cries every time he tricks MC and gets hugs illicitly (little baby)
he is a very hardworking child in class when it is time to do manual work, he likes to make small paper flowers for his teacher
the baby gets very sad every time he is left out of school projects, he doesn't know why no one seems to like him. surprisingly, he managed to get along fairly well with John Doe until he noticed his interest in MC
usually wraps his tail around MC's leg whenever he feels nervous or sick, that has been an indicator for MC to lull the child
kid who is a cotton candy fan, Peter pushed him while they were playing on the playground and his candy fell to the ground (he cried for 40 minutes)
kitten boy starts purring when MC praises his work
Keith and Tenebris.
as for them, I decided that they were twins in this AU (tenebris still has his blue skin and strange smile), they don't seem to get along very well and have a marked rivalry because they both want MC for themselves
Keith usually hates being in the classroom because his classmates are very noisy, MC has tried to help him with the overstimulation so that it is not an uncomfortable experience, since then Keith loves going to kindergarten
Tenebris does not get along with most of his classmates (if not all), he came close to befriending John Doe and Mycheal because they know what it's like to be treated differently because of how they look, but Doe scared him off by showing him a pair of beetles he found on the playground and Mycheal…well, just by being a liar
Keith is a very dedicated child, he likes to take care of the flowers in the playground with the help of MC, his teacher usually reads books about facts about flowers and apparently Keith is one of the few who pays attention (he cries every time that Jack plucks flowers from the garden to give them to MC)
Tenebris uses a toy guitar from the classroom to serenade his favorite teacher, that always kills MC with cuteness (Tenebris gets angry because it's not a real guitar)
when there are school trips, Keith always takes his teacher's hand and tries to pull them to see everything he finds interesting with them, whether it's a flower or a heart-shaped cloud
Tenebris always takes advantage when playing with swords with his classmates to satisfy his violent need to hurt everyone who likes MC, the game ends up turning into a real battle and Tenebris is scolded
Solivan Brugmansia.
at first glance, MC thought that the boy was always upset and didn't like him being around, but Sol just doesn't know what to do like when he's around his favorite teacher
the quiet child in the classroom, prefers to do his work alone, always takes the opportunity to draw MC with chalk on the playground
the boy is obviously obsessed (and not in a fun way) with his teacher, his parents came to the classroom angry because Sol had his sketchbooks full of sketches of you
you are the only person he allows to hold his stuffed animal, he leaves it with you whenever he goes to the bathroom and asks you to play with it, you don't think it's strange that Sol has a stuffed horse, children have strange toys all the time
Sol is clearly a target for bullying, you know it, you see it, so you have to constantly check that he is not hurt (Peter put gum in his hair once and he cried a lot)
SURPRISINGLY, he is one of the few children who has REAL friends, he has Hyugo, a classmate from another class, Hyugo knows about his crush on MC and is not very secretive, Sol has to cover his mouth or push him to the sandbox to make him shut up
Damon.
puppy love, usually chases other children on all fours and licks snot from his own nose
barks every time someone gets too close to MC but in the end the scolding is always worth it since MC teacher strokes his head when he doesn't promise it won't happen again (it will happen again)
he will believe anything you tell him, he is quite gullible with the things that MC says, if his teacher tells him that he can't dig holes in the playground because giant insects will come out of there that will eat everyone, Damon believes it
sweet tooth, loves chocolate, MC has to be careful with what his students eat, Damon often hides chocolate bars in his pockets and that always ends in MC confiscating the chocolates
Damon has a friend in another class who he calls DG, he is his best friend and again Damon is one of the few kids with real friends in your class, DG knows that Damon likes you but unlike Hyugo he is more secretive
when there are school dances, Damon gives his all, always trying hard, not only because he loves to dance but he also loves when his favorite teacher applauds and praises him
 ♡
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ophelieverse · 7 months ago
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please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭
➳♡before fire takes it all
Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader
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-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.
-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.
-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷
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It hurts.
Love,Aegon thinks.
Love hurts.
His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.
Loving too much is fatal.Or not?
Isn't that so?
Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?
“I don't know”,his conscience responds.
Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.
How can he live?How?
How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?
Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.
But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.
Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.
His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.
«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.
His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.
Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.
As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.
«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.
Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.
Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.
His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.
A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?
«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.
It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.
Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.
With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.
Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.
He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.
Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.
Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?
He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.
Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.
The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.
Aegon was blocked.
He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.
He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.
Not even him,especially him.
Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.
«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.
Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.
She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.
Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.
A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.
Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.
Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.
Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.
Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.
«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.
«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.
«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.
Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.
But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.
He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.
Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.
«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.
He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.
“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.
It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.
Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.
Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.
So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.
It will never be like this.
«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.
Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.
Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.
Y/n doesn't tremble.
He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.
Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.
Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.
At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.
So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?
Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.
«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.
«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.
Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.
«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.
It’s not what happened,but what could happen.
Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.
Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.
Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.
«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.
Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.
«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.
Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.
His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.
«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.
Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.
The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.
He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.
Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.
Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.
And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.
«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.
She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.
«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.
His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.
«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.
Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.
«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.
He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.
She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.
It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.
Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.
The time of a whole life that slips away.
«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.
He just took,he just wanted.
Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.
He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.
What a stupid mistake.
«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.
No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.
It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.
He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.
This was his life once,before her.
Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.
The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.
Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?
Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.
Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.
Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.
He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.
This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?
«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.
Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.
The bravest Lady he had ever met.
«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.
Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.
She loves him.
And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.
Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.
Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.
Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.
And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.
And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.
Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.
They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.
Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?
He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.
«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.
«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.
Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.
«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.
All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.
«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.
Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.
Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.
«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.
And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.
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portgasdwrld · 1 year ago
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📂 Op men + them being jealous
part 1
Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)
Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others
Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, I’m finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts 👩🏻‍💻 y’all don’t know how many times I wrote and erased stuff 😭
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Luffy
The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You weren’t particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.
On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasn’t an adventure if he didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.
But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.
The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.
Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.
-This would look so pretty on your hair!
He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffy’s eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didn’t say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.
-You look perfect!
He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldn’t want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.
Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.
-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if I’m being truly honest. I’m not a fearless warrior like you, let’s say~
You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.
-Alright, then stay close to me only. I’m the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!
-You’re sweet, thank you Luffy.
He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~
Zoro
It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didn’t notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.
Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldn’t see you were taken. That’s when it snapped for him: maybe they couldn’t tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.
The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.
You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.
-Wassup with you?
-I cant kiss you or what?
-Yeah, but you don’t usually do that.
-You always complain
He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)
You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.
-You’re really acting strange, but I ain’t complaining
You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.
-Great, because you’re not leaving my side tonight.
Sanji
Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding y’all. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.
He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.
It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.
Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.
-What do we think?
He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.
-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?
You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.
"...should I get into jewelries.."
It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-
-Chérie, have you find something you liked?
He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.
-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?
Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.
-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.
You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..
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dilfsfordinner · 1 year ago
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summary- nanami kento being a girl dad
pairing- husband nanami x wife!reader
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with the growth of a child came the difficulties of their attitude, most adults making it known that they were struggling with parenting through the complaints of certain ages, like “the terrible twos”, which coincidentally, your daughter was in the current stage of.
“come here, now,” your voice was stern, all patience fizzling out of your system as you watched your little girl cross her arms indignantly, scowling at you before pointedly turning her head away.
it was nanami’s idea to use up your weekend at the beach, his optimism rubbing off on you prior to what was now a toddler’s tantrum.
“do you want me to count?” your eyebrows quirked as your daughter continued the silent treatment, hmphing in disobedience. “fine.. i’ll just tell your father.” at the mention of her dad, your baby immediately whipped toward you, her face contorting into a cry as she realized she wouldn’t get away with not listening, little feet stomping as you got up to talk to your husband who was currently preoccupied setting up a tiny, pink umbrella.
stopping with his task, nanami listened as you complained about your little girl not letting you put on sunscreen, her back apparently too sensitive to stand the cold cream. “help me, please,” you sighed, leaning your head against the bare skin of his chest, forehead resting against his collarbones.
a large hand began to rub up and down the length of your spine, comforting you, consoling you in a way that instantly had your nerves relaxing. “you sit down, i’ll deal with her,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head gently before pulling away to trek toward the pouting child in the sand only a few yards away.
the sun was already starting to beat down at only 8 o’clock in the morning, reinforcing your belief that sunscreen was indeed needed to protect your baby from sunburn or sickness. bottle in hand, nanami approached his little girl like she was a lion ready to pounce at him. she wouldn’t look at him either, braving a spanking to stand her ground.
sinking to his knees a few feet before her, nanami didn’t say anything, just opened the tube of sunblock, and began to manipulate the white lotion into a variety of different shapes. first, was a simple sun on the tan skin of his thigh. second, was a couple of flowers, trailing up the outside of his wrist and forearm. the third actually piqued the little girl’s interest, a big butterfly that was messily drawn on the expanse of his chest.
continuing his painting session, nanami concealed his smile as he heard sand begin to drag beneath what sounded strangely like knees, his peripheral vision granting him the ability to watch as his baby began to crawl toward him, big eyes zeroed in on the insect on his chest.
“daddy,” came a quiet voice beside him, nanami finally looking up from the haphazardly drawn shark on his knee to look at the curious little face of his daughter. her eyes were wide but wary as she pointed to his chest, tiny index coming up to smear the butterfly there, almost like she was testing the quality of the “paint” he had used.
“do you want to help me?” nanami asked gently, gesturing to the bottle in his hand. she tilted her head as if she actually had to ponder his question, before she was nodding excitedly, reaching for his hand in a hurried frenzy.
tsking, he pulled the bottle away quickly, his arm high above her head even while sitting. “if you help me, i get to help you too.. okay?”
nodding again, she tried and failed to reach the bottle, little eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. “pinky promise?” he asked softly, large hand coming down until only his pinky nudged the air before her. before he could pull away, her whole hand wrapped around his single finger, shaking it up and down like a giant shaking hands with an ant, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“alright, c’mere baby,” lifting her up by her waist, she set her feet on his thighs, his hands remaining wrapped around her belly to hold her upright before he deposited a puddle of sunscreen in her hand, awaiting her painting.
she certainly wasn’t gentle with it, repeatedly testing the safety limits of his face, one time almost jabbing a sunscreen-covered finger in his eye. slowly but surely, she began to smile, little giggles coming from her mouth, her reaction being enough to tell him that he didn’t even want to know what was occurring on his face.
after a couple minutes, she leaned back in his hands, her index leaving a swipe of white on the tip of his nose before she started to giggle again, “mister kitty.”
ignoring the revelation of her comment, he tickled her sides, smiling at the shrill laughter that echoed along the empty beach, drinking in the fact that his little girl was happy again, that one of her moods hadn’t ruined the day before it even started.
ruffling the fuzzy mop of hair atop her head, he kissed her forehead, “can daddy paint you now?” he asked nicely, her response giddy and quick, clapping her little hands before plopping down into the sand, back to him.
“i want a kitty too!” she practically barked, wiggling her toes in the sand to conceal her very apparent excitement.
“yes ma’am,” nanami murmered, squirting a generous amount of sunscreen in his hand before he began applying the white paste all over her back, letting his hands “accidentally” travel over her arms and legs, somehow successfully applying sunscreen to every necessary area without her noticing.
finishing up, he patted her bottom, urging her to “go show mommy” to which she complied, hurriedly clambering across the sand to jump in front of you, trying (and failing) to point at the “painting” on her back.
“isn’t he cute?” she gushed, jumping up and down, obviously referencing the cat she assumed was on her back.
looking up from your giggling child, you watched as your husband sauntered toward your position on the beach blanket, triumphant grin on his face at his accomplishment. a smile pulled at your own lips at this, not because of his success, but because of the white whiskers and nose that had been slathered across his face by the hand of the girl sitting before you, makeshift face paint making him the world’s cutest dad.
swallowing a laugh, you pulled your baby into your arms, rocking her back and forth as you watched your sun-kissed lover begin to set up that tiny umbrella once again.. strong muscles glinting in the sun heavily offset by the cute kitten makeup on his face… “he sure is.”
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strwbabydoll · 6 months ago
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The Feeling Came Late
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Chapter One: When You’re Young, They Assume You Know Nothing
pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem! sunshine!reader
summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?
overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.
chapter 1/? (wc: 3.3k)
001 | 01 | 02 | 03
- - - - - -
Y/N's always loved mornings, she loves being able to wake and watch the sun rise. She loves being able to listen to nature's song, the birds chirping, the different buzzing and humming of the insects and the various sounds of all the animals that stay around her house. She always wakes with a bright smile on her face and enthusiasm to start her day, she'll turn on her favorite playlist and sing along as she begins to start her day.
Y/N didn’t love this morning though, it started out differently than her normal morning started. It was different because she had stayed up much later than she should have trying to get some last minute studying in for a pop quiz, which caused her to wake with a slight frown and a loud huff as she shuts off the blaring beep coming from her alarm clock.
"I get it, I'm up. Now shut up." She mumbles as she tiredly rubs her eyes and sits up; she grabs the various sheets of paper strewn across the bottom half of her bed and stacks them as neatly as she can in a hurry on the wooden nightstand next to her bed. She sighs as she stretches her arms over her head and leans back some, feeling only slightly better as she feels her body loosening up.
She makes her bed, tucking the thick blanket underneath all of her pillows and making sure there's no wrinkles anywhere before grabbing her phone and clicking on the 'Music' app and clicking her morning playlist. She smiles as her favorite song begins to play as she walks over to her closet to pick out her outfit for the day. After several minutes of aimlessly searching through her clothes she settles on a knitted sweater, a brown tartan skirt, some white open toe sandals and a white tote bag.
She heads into her en suite bathroom and sets her outfit on the gray granite countertops before turning on the faucet and letting the water warm up. She hums along to the current song playing as she splashes the warm water on her face and dries her face slightly. She grabs her face wash and begins to do her daily morning routine, the small feeling of normalcy making her feel better already.
Once she's dressed, done her makeup and in a somewhat better mood, she heads into the kitchen while singing along to another one of her favorite songs and begins to grab a banana and some leftover oatmeal from the fridge. Making her way to the small dining room table, she sighs happily and sets the oatmeal down and begins to peel the banana and break it into small uneven pieces to eat in her oatmeal.
After eating everything, she washes the bowl and sits in the dish rack placed next to the sink and grabs her purse and her phone, putting all her essentials in the bag and walking to the front door. Smiling as she shuts off the living room light and closes the door behind her, she begins to make her way to the front of her apartment complex and towards the small bike rack, filled with various bikes of all sizes and colors.
- - - -
It takes her roughly less than twenty minutes when she reaches her university and sighs as she hops off her bike and ties it to the bike rack in front of her school. As she makes her way into the school, she stops as she notices a few new flowers on the side of the steps. As she makes her way over, she can feel her smile growing, the flowers are absolutely beautiful. They're a beautiful shade of pink carnations, the bright color popping against the stark bricks of the stairs and she quickly takes her phone as she snaps a picture of them.
"Leave it to the professionals, and move out my way." She hears a voice coming from somewhere behind her, she recognizes this voice. She could pick it out in a crowd and not because she likes it, but because it’s one of the only ones that can upset her. This voice throws out insults and mocks her, jeers at her for seemingly no reason, the one voice that she’ll never understand why it hates her so much.
She turns around with a frown already set on her face at the voice behind her. His long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a cotton white t-shirt paired with a pair of light wash denim jeans and a black leather jacket. His signature smirk is plastered on his face as two of his friends laugh and pat him on the back, he’s making his way towards her. For as long as she can remember she and Harry have been at each other's throats or more like he's been dead set on giving her absolute hell since the end of their high school while she ignores him.
"Shouldn't you be getting to class anyways, miss goody two shoes?" He asks and snickers as he purposely bumps into her shoulder as he passes as if there’s not plenty of room for him to walk, her frown deepens as she messes with her bag and makes her way to the entrance door. Just before she opens the door, she turns around and gives him a glare, a small smile slowly beginning to take over the frown.
"Oh you’re one to talk, Styles. At least, I’m not the one failing English! " She yells back before quickly walking in the door and heading to her first class of the day.
While she loves her classes, loves interacting with the teacher and adding her input in group discussions, the lack of her normal amount of sleep makes her brain unfocused and easily distracted. Her eyes flit across the room with every sound that occurs, she can't seem to sit still. She's fidgety, her hands play with the pen in her hands as if she's not supposed to be taking notes right now. She wishes she could be focused enough to take even the bare minimum of the notes on the board, she can't stay focused on anything for long before her attention is grabbed by something new.
Time seems to fly as she looks down at her bare page in the notebook; nothing written on it beside the title of her notes and she sighs. Quietly she leans over and asks the girl behind her if she can take a picture of her notes after class, she thanks her when the girl nods before going back to writing on her own paper.
A knock on the door grabs her attention as well as the sound of her fellow classmates whispering amongst each other, the scratching of the pencil of the girl next to her, and she watches the teacher make her way to the door. The clicking of her heels echo in the small classroom and finally her hand reaches for the door knob, the teacher begins to twist it and pull the door open. She can hear him before she sees him, his voice carrying through as he speaks.
"Mornin' Liz. How's my favorite girl?" She watches as the teacher rolls her eyes and swats his arm as he goes to give her a hug.
"You're late Mr. Styles. Have a seat." She says as she makes her way back to her desk and Harry chuckles as he opens the door fully, his emerald eyes scanning the room.
The only available seat is next to Y/N and he scowls. Briskly walking over to someone at the table furthest from her and asking to switch seats quietly, they shake their head and he sighs. He walks over to another table and asks to switch and in response he gets another no. Frowning, he walks over to Y/N's table and grabs the chair and moves it as far away as he can, mumbling a few words under his breath as he sits down.
Not bothering to pay attention, he lays his head down on the desk and closes his eyes. Allowing the outside noise to become faint murmurs, he bounces his leg quickly as he begins to drift to sleep.
"Can you stop please? You're shaking the table?" He huffs and rolls his eyes as he lifts his head.
"S'not bothering you." He says and she shakes her head gently.
"I'm trying to take notes." He scoffs as she points to her notebook.
"That doesn’t have shit to do with me though, does it? Gotta make sure you pass the exams, right? M'surprised you don't have it all memorized." He says dryly and lays his head back down. He can hear her sigh and the crinkling of the paper as she moves over some towards the opposite end of the table. He snickers softly to himself before closing his eyes once more.
He wakes up to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder, it's soft, small and gentle as it shakes him. He groans as he sits up and stretches his arms over his head. When he turns he sees her standing next to him, her side of the desk cleaned up and the room’s silent.
"The fuck do you want?" He mumbles and frowns, he's never been on to be happy whenever he wakes up, especially grumpy because it’s her waking him up.
"Class is over, just figured you'd want to head wherever you need to go." She says, her voice soft and sweet and he frowns once more.
"Sure." He stands up and moves the chair back to its original position. He barely catches the sight of a small frown etched on her face before she leaves, he waits a couple of minutes before he's heading out the door and onto his next class. He doesn't care that she's upset, she lives in her own world and doesn't seem to grasp the fact that not everyone's as nice as she is or was raised with such manners, it's not his problem.
On the way to his next class, he hears his name being yelled from behind him. He turns around and sees the principal yelling and jogging his way.
"Harry! A moment please?!" He yells and Harry frowns. He knows what he wants to talk about, it can only mean one of two things, it's either his failed midterm or be found out that it's him graffitiing the various parts of the school walls and parking lots. He doubts that he knows about the graffitiing so it has to be the exam, and he just doesn’t want to talk about the exam with him at this point.
He shakes his head as he begins to walk opposite of the voice calling his name. He's never been one to care about time and his grades so he waits until the last minute and does just enough work for him to be at a D level.
"Harry Styles!" The voice booms and he huffs before turning around and grumpily begins the short trek to the principal.
"Yeah?" He says and crosses his arms, the principal nods shortly before asking Harry to follow him.
As Harry follows the older man into his office, he grumbles the whole time about how unfair and stupid all of this is. Passing by all the lockers and the small gaggle of students littering the halls as he walks, head held high and confidence is his walk because he can't be seen being embarrassed. It'd be the end of the world if that were to happen, not that he’s embarrassed about this in any way. He’s not.
When the principal opens the tall wooden door leading to his office, he steps aside to let Harry in and smiles as Harry mumbles a rough thank you in response. Harry immediately frowns when he sees the figure sitting in a chair in front of the desk, her fingers messing with her bag and her eyes seeming to stare a hole in the desk. Sitting behind his dark oak desk and opening up his laptop, the sound of clicking filling the room as he types.
"So, Harry, you know why I brought you here?" The older man asks and Harry nods.
"Think so, s'about the midterm right? And if so, I have some words. Knapick's crazy if she thinks that test was anywhere near suitable to give to us. I suggest you look into that." Harry says and the principal shakes his head, Y/N only lets out a soft scoff as if she doesn’t believe him.
The principal leans back and adjusts his glasses as he stares at Harry.
"No, Harry. It's just you I believe. Almost everyone else passed the exam with at least a C average if not better." Harry frowns at that and shakes his head.
"No way, the test is rigged I tell you. I knew Knapick never liked me. She's trying to fail me Oscar."
"No, you barely did effort. And if you wanna be able to graduate on time, I suggest you get a tutor." The principal says and Harry's frown deepens.
"No way."
"Yes, Harry. I'm serious. I'm trying to help. I can give you a list of our best tutors in the school but it’d be pointless on both of our parts, we both know you won’t take this seriously or you’ll just find a way to get them to give you the answers. I don’t want you wasting their time.
Harry shakes his head furiously, the ponytail slowly beginning to slip from the elastic's hold causing a few of his curls to frame his face.
"It's either you get the help you need or you're gonna be repeating, and I know you don’t want to ruin your little reputation by having to repeat." Harry huffs and rolls his eyes once more.
“I guess.” Harry says and the principal nods.
“Great! That’s where you come in Y/N. I know you’re real patient and won't fall for your game, Styles."
"No game. I just have the charm the ladies want, Oscar." Harry says and smirks - only briefly though, he absolutely hates the idea of spending any time with her; just being here in the same room for this short period of time is excruciating and annoying.
"But I don't want her, give me someone else."
"I'll see what I can do but I think she would be best. She’s already here, I don’t want to have to waste her time and I'm sure she works fast."
Y/N only sighs, it’s quiet and barely noticeable if Harry wasn’t already trying to stare a hole into her head.
“I can tutor him, sir. Only if he wants me to, which we all know he doesn’t.” She says and Harry huffs obnoxiously loud as he uncrosses his arms.
"She makes me want to tug my hair out." Y/N laughs to herself at this and Harry frowns again, he didn’t say anything funny.
"I’m sure she knows that. Have a good day Harry." Harry grumpily walks out of the office as fast as he can, eager to get away from her and her annoying voice, her eagerness to help, her unwavering kindness, and heads to his next class. He hears her calling after him, he doesn’t care about whatever she has to say. He hates the fact that he has to spend time with her, listen to her annoying voice and that he has to learn from her. He’s already late of course so once he’s out of the office and doesn’t have to worry about her chasing him down he slows down, walks slowly because quite frankly he doesn’t care about this class. His thoughts become a chant of how much Y/N annoys him and why she has to be so smart. If he had to be paired with her, he'd make it the worst tutor session ever. He's really gonna make her life hell, and he’s really gonna have the best time doing so.
Harry doesn’t share many classes with Y/N thankfully, but he absolutely loathes the few classes he does share with her. He hates watching her take notes in her stupid notebook, and listening to her answer any questions the teacher has and adding her own input or asking a question about whatever the teacher is talking about. When he walks into his next class, about ten minutes late because of his purposefully slow walking and sees her sitting in the front row with her notebook about and all of her colored pens and pencil laid onto her desk he immediately frowns.
Her presence just irritates him to no end, having to watch her be on top of her game all the time just doesn’t make sense to him. He doesn’t get how she’s able to do it all without wavering or failing. Either way, it just fucking irritates him. He walks to his seat towards the middle, the teacher refuses to let him sit in the back because he won’t do anything other than be on his phone. He can feel her gaze on him which only frustrates him more so he stares straight ahead, purposefully ignoring her. There’s nothing for them to talk about anymore, he just needs to get what he needs from her with no other complications or distractions.
The class drags by slowly and Harry still can't seem to shake the feeling of her eyes on him, so he just lays his head onto his desk in hopes that it’ll make the time go by faster. He can’t help but to bounce his leg as the teacher drones on about something related to History he thinks, and quite frankly he just doesn’t care. He just wants to be done, to be out of the room. He knows that he could easily just walk out and be done with this class for the day, but that won’t do him any good. He’s going to have to come back and grab his assignments if he’s assigned any and he’s going to have to come back tomorrow and suffer through.
Finally the teacher dismisses the class for the day and Harry’s one of the first ones out, or he would be one of the first one’s out if Y/N hadn’t called his name and caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. He jerks it off roughly and turns around.
“Leave me alone. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to deal with you for God knows how long with these stupid tutoring sessions, make both of lives easier and just fucking write down the answers to anything and give it to me.” He says, ready for this encounter to be over with. She shakes her head firmly, a frown beginning to form on her face.
“I agreed to tutor you, I’m not just going to give out the answers. I need your number so I can communicate with you,” She says with a roll of her eyes and Harry can’t help but to feel a small sense of pride and enjoyment at irritating her, to be the reason she frowns and rolls her eyes.
“You don’t need my number, just give me the answers and all of this will be done and over with. I’m not giving it to you anyways.” He says with a huff, here she goes again wanting to fix him. She wants to help him and allows her kindness to seep through even though he’s the last one she should be treating with kindness, he doesn’t want her kindness. She huffs once again and Harry can only smile briefly before he remembers why they’re even having a conversation to begin with.
“Fine, be stubborn if you want to. I’m not going to allow you to stress me out.” She says and walks past him, and because he takes joy in annoying her he makes sure to walk along with her only to bump into her before laughing and turning around.
He’s definitely going to have a lot of fun with this.
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itsabouttimex2 · 2 months ago
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Eclipse Kings
Part One: Mountain Monkeys
(Part One: You Are Here) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: Wild Dawn)
(Extra One)
(The eternal kings of Flower Fruit Mountain certainly did not expect a thief smelling of their lost son to invade the palace on the day they intended to mourn his disappearance.)
The people in your village don’t go hungry.
But they’re never full, either.
Abundance is a word whispered only in longing, yet never a reality to be tasted.
Plates are modest—never empty, yet never brimming. Bread and fish are the staples, filling enough to survive but just shy of satisfying. There’s no indulgence here, no clinking glasses of wine or wedges of cheese. The villagers say this is the way of life for those who dwell beneath the gaze of the demon kings of Flower Fruit Mountain.
Once every month each family is expected to deliver a “tribute” to the two demon kings who reign over your village from
And if you “play your part” to the kingdom and make your proper tributes, the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain WILL protect you, your family, your property- that is not a privilege many demons are willing to provide.
Some families choose the customary fruit offering for the little long-tailed monkeys around the mountains. Young, tender fruits like mangoes, starfruits, and papayas are diced into neat chunks, artfully arranged on freshly washed taro leaves, and tied up with twine. The leaves are then hung from the branches of the flowering trees at the mountain’s base, a silent signal for the little monkeys to descend.
These creatures are far from simple animals; they are spirits of the mountain, bound to the Kings, with eyes that shine with uncanny understanding. They clamber down with hungry, chittering excitement, ravenous for the colorful spoils. Villagers know to keep their distance, watching from afar as the monkeys gnaw on the bounty, tearing at the fruit until nothing remains but juice-stained leaves and the echoes of satisfied squeals. The villagers believe the monkeys carry whispers to the Kings, tales of each family’s offering—or lack thereof.
Some of the craftier types (usually those with several little mouths to feed) in the village whittle toys from wood and decorate them with feathers or colorful strips of fabric and leave those about in the woods, saving more food for themselves and their children.
Some villagers, either brave or foolish, choose to journey directly up the mountain with their tributes. This is a long, exhausting up a path that was treacherous, steep, and wild, twisting through the ancient woods that seemed almost alive with the spirits of the many mortals who came before.
They would inevitably be hounded by monkeys and insects, trying desperately to sample the goods before they were given to the mountain lords to be devoured or given as gifts to those few other demon lords that the vaunted simian had compiled as allies.
And though the tribute was mandatorily gathered each month, and every family’s name was marked and closely tracked in a ledger by the sable king, with sufficient enough explanation tribute can be delayed or even outright pardoned- as the Eclipse Kings were fathers themselves, they took mercy upon struggling parents and orphans.
…they probably wouldn’t bat an eyebrow at you, honestly.
Living in a ramshackle hut sank half into the earth and insulated with straw and mud that you had smeared into the ever-growing fractures, it was just enough to tide you safely through the year.
When it grew hot you would pull out all the dirtiest blankets and clothes in your possession, sitting for hours in the shade of the many flowering trees of Mount Huaguo, feet dipped into the cool waters of whatever lake you found first- and you’d shred those tattered fabrics to long strips and bundle them up for kindling in winter.
They would be the last thing to go, only after the dried grass and wood you had gathered months prior were gone, used to melt ice for water or ease the ache of deep chills.
You had accustomed yourself to this cycle- prepare for winter all through summer and fall, then take spring as a chance to relax and live a little more freely.
You had accustomed yourself to it for a while, at least.
And then little MK had come tumbling through your door, sniveling and shaken.
Back then he had been almost too young to speak, too small to voice whatever his fears were, too utterly weak to cry for more than a half-minute before the tiny thing collapsed in your arms.
He hadn’t needed to explain.
The pounding footsteps and booming hollers had told you enough- he was being hunted.
Months prior you had dug a little shallow ditch in the soft mud of your home, then hid it under the stiffest rug you could find, reinforced with bark and smeared with mud for camouflage, praying that it would hold and go unnoticed in the event of a raid such as this.
You hadn’t expected to share it with a toddler, though.
But it had held firm and gone unnoticed even as everything else in your home was overturned and thrown askew, ripped apart by invaders with cheap leather armor and fishing knives- an hastily gathered army, clearly.
Before leaving in anger, the lot of them had shredded through your broken house and thrown their frustrated fists through the crumbling walls, leaving dozens of holes that you would have to patch with naught but straw, hay, and mud.
Winter would be harder this year, and every year after.
Especially with a baby in tow.
You hadn’t the heart to throw MK out, or leave him to the elements, but you hadn’t been brave enough to seek out his parents, either- if someone wanted him dead, then you would be on their list for harboring him, too.
“Y/N,” the young boy squeals, breaking you from reminiscence as he runs up to you with a smile. “There’s monkeys outside again!”
“…huh. Usually they don’t come around here. Make sure you stay away from the door, buddy.”
You turn to face him, only to sigh at his blatant disobedience- he’s toddling straight towards the broken hole you use as an entrance, only covered by a thick sheet of wool- it had been a sweater that grew too dirty for further use, leaving you to use the rancid thing as a weighted tarp to keep out chills.
Soap was a luxury you could rarely get your hands on, which meant it was better used for personal bathing than clothes-tending.
If you or MK; whom you tiredly sweep up into your arms, needed new clothing, you could always head down to the cemetery on a windy night to snatch up all the fabric left as offerings- they could easily be repurposed into makeshift garments.
The boy squirms in your lap, tugging on a lock of your hair to steady himself as he stands up.
“Why can’t I go out and play with the monkeys? I’ll be good, I promise!”
“Monkeys like to eat babies, kiddo. They might snatch you up and throw you into a pot,” you return, poking his squishy little cheek.
“I’m not a baby, and monkeys don’t use pots! Cause they don’t have kitchens!”
“Yeah? I hear they get to use the whole palace on the top of the mountain,” you lie, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “And I hear they take itty-bitty babies up to the ovens to be cooked.”
“…liar.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
MK, in spite of his age, is a pretty good sport when it comes to teasing and jesting. He doesn’t hold grudges and doesn’t ask for much. He eats what you give him and never asks for a second plate.
…really, he’s just a good kid.
You’ve done what you can for him. Warm clothes and clean bedding, and the occasional toy when you could scrounge it up. He eats before you do, and you make sure he has the softer portion of whatever meal you’ve scraped together. At night, he sleeps close by, wrapped up in the cleanest blankets you have, his little head nestled against your shoulder. Sometimes, his tiny fingers tangle in your shirt, holding on tight as if, in sleep, he’s afraid of being lost.
You’ve made it through rough times with him at your side, never without purpose as long as you could return to him.
You can make it through anything, you think, as long as you have MK.
But this year, you worry. Winter feels sharper already, creeping into your bones even though it’s only autumn. The flowers on the mountain haven’t died off yet, but the chilly bite warns you that cold days are coming fast. Supplies have been meager; the mountain rains came early, spoiling at least some of the crops before they could be harvested and gathered.
But MK—little, bright-eyed MK—he’s full of life, unafraid, and curious. Where you see danger in the forest’s shadows, he sees playmates and adventure. His world is small—just your home, the patch of trees nearby, and the lakes you risk bringing him to in the break of dawn. He doesn’t yet understand what it means to live with less. To him, the world is a place of wonder.
And you, for all your struggles, feel lighter with him around. His laughter fills the little corners of your life, and his bright chatter fends off the loneliness that once crept in on quiet nights.
“Y/N?” MK’s soft voice pulls you from your thoughts again. “If the monkeys go back to the kings, maybe they could tell them to bring food down here.”
You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “Oh, you think the demon kings will listen to a bunch of monkeys? They’re big and mighty, MK. They don’t worry about little things like the people below.”
“Maybe…” he murmurs, thoughtful, “But maybe if I ask really nice, they’ll listen. Then you wouldn’t be hungry.” His face scrunches up, serious and brave. “I can be nice. Really, really nice.”
Your heart squeezes a little at that, seeing the determination in his young eyes. “Oh, buddy,” you murmur, stroking his hair. “You’re plenty nice. But there are some things we can’t ask for, even from the kings.”
He frowns, thinking it over. “But…maybe if I brought them a really, really good tribute, then they’d listen?”
You stifle a sigh. MK’s generosity knows no bounds—he has so little, yet he dreams of giving. “Let’s not worry about the kings,” you say gently, redirecting his thoughts. “The best thing you can do is keep me company, just like you always do.”
He considers this, nodding, and a smile breaks out on his face again. “Okay!” He hops down from your lap, already chasing after a stray insect that has wandered into your home, flitting in and out of the small rays of sun that pierce through the cracks in the walls.
And you know, as you watch him, that no matter how harsh this winter might be, as long as MK is with you, there will be warmth to hold on to.
“Y’know, I hear that today is the lost prince’s birthday!”
“Really?!” he gasps, his tiny hands clasped in excitement.
You nod, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Yep. Word is, there are grand feasts in his honor, all the way up in the palace on Flower Fruit Mountain.”
His eyes widen, filled with wonder, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “Wow… Can we go see it?”
“Ah, but it’s only for royalty and their guests,” you reply, ruffling his hair. “They guard that palace like hawks. Only those with a golden invitation can even get close. But, this year… I hear that before they eat, they’re going to the village a mountain over to visit their friends this time… and that their guards are going with them.”
He perks up immediately, eyes wide and gleaming- a little ray of lustrous light to match even gold.
“Y/N… are you going to sneak in?”
“I’m gonna rob them blind,” you confirm, squishing his cheeks between your hands. “That’s why I need you to stay inside today, buddy-“
“I’m going up the mountain.”
Those had been the start of your parting words to your surrogate little brother, instilling a brilliant radiance into his wide, innocent eyes. The thought of a belly full of food fit for kings… what orphan didn’t dream of that?
The trek up had been strikingly simple- all the usual simian distractions had retreated to their dens to mourn the lost prince, leaving you with only the occasional fly or gnat to swat away.
No guards. No soldiers. Nothing to stand in your way.
In hindsight it had been foolish to expect things to be so easy, but… the journey up to the peak hadnlulled you into a false sense of security.
The climb grew colder as you neared the palace. The lush forests below gave way to sparse, twisted trees and jagged rocks, their edges sharp enough to draw blood if you weren’t careful. Shadows lengthened as the day waned, and the silence grew thick, broken only by the occasional whistle of the wind through cracks in the stone.
At the top, the palace loomed—a grand structure carved from dark stone, adorned with gilded statues and red banners that snapped and waved in the mountain breeze. It was as silent as a tomb, its towering gates shut tight.
As you reached the summit, a dense mist clung to the air, and the grand stone gates of the palace loomed before you—ornate and ancient, their carved simian figures seeming to leer down with knowing eyes. Despite your heart thundering with the thrill of what you were about to do, you felt a strange weight settle in your chest. The palace was silent, and the eerie hush made it feel like a place caught between realms, haunted by whispers of an ancient power that was never meant to be trifled with.
But in spite of that internal warning you had crept easily enough to the side, and popped open a glinting, golden-framed window, then slid your legs through the maw- and started your thieving crawl through the palace.
The kitchen is laid with a spread so luxurious it makes your stomach clench with hatred and greed- golden plates piled high with delicate fruit, honeyed meat strung from a dozen racks, wine jars glittering with jeweled necks, the air itself thick with the scent of expensive incense and exotic spices.
All for the birthday of the lost prince, you reminded yourself, a prince who had likely never known hunger or hardship.
“Qi Xiaotian,” he had been named, was lost as a babe to a rebellion led several years ago by the discontented people of your village, those who decided that dying by their makeshift blades was better than living under royal heels.
After he had been; presumably, kidnapped by one of the rebels who had broken through the palace gates, the kings had grown cold and harsh, retreating from the world at large and leaving their lavish dwellings only to accept tributes and settle riotous disputes.
…that wasn’t enough to make you feel bad for them, though.
Tray after tray you scout, going through rows of jars, sacks, and baskets overflowed with preserved fruits, dried meats, and delicate pastries. Your hands tremble as you fill a small bundle with as much as it could hold- a handful of salted meats here, a mooncake wrapped in delicate paper there—enough to sustain you and MK for… maybe a month.
Just as you were finishing up, a strange sensation prickled at the back of your neck. You turned, heart thudding, but saw nothing. Just shadows. The silence, however, had shifted, as if holding its breath. Then a voice—low, smooth, and dripping with amusement—broke the stillness.
“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”
You froze, and before you could even think to run, a figure stepped out from the darkness. His robe flowed like liquid night, embroidered with threads that gleamed in the faint light. A crown of twisted vines adorned his head, casting intricate shadows over a face that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
Beside him is a simian bearing fur the color of sunlight, radiant fur flecked with beads of gold and wound with strings of glimmering citrine. His garments are wrapped with shimmering threads, emphasizing each muscle bulging from below the silk.
The Eclipse Kings of Flower Fruit Mountain: Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque.
The sable king steps closer, eyes narrowing as he looked down at your small, trembling form. His lips curved into a smirk. “Stealing from the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain. Bold, and… foolish… unless you were planning to pay us back for it?” Prods the long-tailed macaque, poking your crumb-stained cheek with his forefinger.
“I don’t have anything to give,” you whimper, tears of fear and pain beading up in your eyes. “I don’t-“
“Hush hush hush!” Coos the brighter of the kings, moving to lightly swat his mate’s hand from your chin with a dramatic flourish of his claws. “Moonlight, look at this little one!”
As the king who had caught you steps back to make space for his husband, the golden monkey snatches you by the waist and lifts without so much as straining a muscle, clearing your feet well from the ground. His golden tail wraps lazily into an approximation of a heart, bouncing around happily.
“Just look at you, dumpling! Such a cute little thing rummaging around in our cabinets, hmm? Were you too hungry to stay away?”
“…you shouldn’t give grace to such a naughty thief, Peaches,” says the umbral king, holding his hands out to you. “Let me see them.”
Although this one is clearly the icier of the two, he holds you with care in spite of needing to exert more effort than his mate.
“Usually,” the golden simian chirps with glee, “we would execute thieves on the spot! My mate’s cleaved more than a few right down the middle for snatching from our castle.” His face is pulled into an easygoing grin, tail still excitedly wagging.
“I stopped doing that a long time ago,” snaps the darker monkey. “It takes forever to clean bloodstains, and maids are hard to come by, Peaches. I don’t need them wasting their time scrubbing down my carpets.”
“Our.”
“Shut up, you damn-“
“And speaking of what’s “ours”… what do we do with this little thing?”
The two monkeys look over you with varied looks, one grinning ear to ear as he pokes at your cheeks and strokes your hair, the other more restrained with only a cocked eyebrow.
“…what we usually do to thieves and trespassers.”
The feeling in your gut isn’t unlike a falling icicle, coldly sundering any hope you had of making it out of this castle alive. You were going to die. You were going to die and never see your brother again, and then he was going to starve all alone in that awful little hut.
You were going to die alone.
You were going to die unloved.
The golden king sounds a pitying gasp as tears begin to spill over your cheeks and trickles down your chin, splattering onto the polished marble floors below.
The air in your lungs begins to quickly fade, replaced with sharp gasps for breath interspersed with desperately babbled apologies. Sorry after sorry after sorry after-
“Little one, little one! Shh, shh,” the Great Sage pleads, scooping you into his powerful arms. “Shhhh, shhh, there there… it’s okay, dumpling… please, no more tears… you’ll just break this old monkey’s heart, you know that?”
“Stop fussing,” demands his mate, reaching over to card through your messy hair. “You aren’t going to manipulate us.”
“I- I’m not- no, I’m not- that’s not-“
“Shhhh! Be a good little mortal and shush! No more words, little one!” Macaque, what are you even-“
“Haven’t you noticed how they smell?”
The golden king freezes, glittering eyes going wide as his mate points out something he sincerely hadn’t noticed at all- that your scent is indeed strikingly familiar in a way that shreds out his heart and leaves him weak.
Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Handsome Monkey King- buries his face into the top of your hair, cradling you like a babe as his lips ghost the crown of your scalp, not unlike a father bidding his child goodnight with a kiss. He breathes in deep, taking the scent into his lungs and chest and holding it tighter than he holds you, only gasping it back out when breathless tears prick his eyes.
“…you smell like our son,” he whispers, holding you tighter and tighter. “I thought I was never going to- I thought I was going to die before I ever felt this- I- no, it- it’s like… gods, it’s like he’s here with us. Macaque, what do… what do we do?”
“…mortals don’t have the same scents as demons. They’re not as complex or strong. The only way a mortal gets the same scent as a demon is to spend hours with them.”
“So he’s alive”, Wukong croaks, the air in his lungs warbling with the effort to stay steady. “Our baby boy is alive. Macaque, he’s still here. Gods, he must’ve been lonely. He was so little, Macaque! He… he’s still alive.”
Wukong drops sharply to his knees, setting you on the ground with the downwards crash. The gold-veined marble cracks under the force of his movement, a testament to well-hidden power.
“Sweetie,” he coos, speaking to you as one speaks to a startled toddler,” “tell me- tell about all of your friends. Start to finish, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetie? I need to know who all they are.”
There’s a deep, desperate pleading in his voice, golden eyes scrunched to hold back tears.
“Please, please. Please tell me you know where my baby is.”
He’s so brokenly hopeful, so pleadingly anguished, so despairingly optimistic that give in to the welling guilt and admit-
“I only h-have one- he- his name is… it’s MK. He… he has brown hair and black eyes, and he’s… his favorite color is orange. He-“
Macaque screams.
He screams louder than the winds howl atop the mountain in winter, louder than tornados roar in the dry spells of summer, louder and louder and louder with each consecutive shriek until gilded windows shatter and silver braziers are snuffed.
“THAT’S HIM,” the sable king wails, throwing a fist through a solid sheet of the gold wall before him. “THAT’S MY BABY!!”
He rips his bleeding arm from the opulent ruin and tackles Wukong in a fit of relieved tears and broken openness, leaving the two tumbling in an eclipse of hues, gold and ebony rolling together on a red carpet.
They embrace in a moment of sheer, mind-numbing relief, wailing together that their beloved son hadn’t been lost, so utterly allayed that they almost forget there’s a world spinning around them.
You take your chance, and dart from the room, footsteps dulled by the luxurious carpet below.
They’ll realize that you’re gone any minute, and raise a din and raise their army- you can imagine them in the village already, desperately offering armfuls of gold and silver to any who can find you or drag you from whatever hiding place you’ve snuck to, to anyone who can return their last ticket to reuniting with their precious little cub.
You don’t even turn a single corner before what sounds like four steps of footsteps sound, racing close behind- too scared to look back, you simply fling yourself from the nearest broken window and pray you’ll land safely.
Sure enough, there’s a peach tree just below you, providing an uncomfortable cushion that prevents any fractures or breaks, thought not without shredding your arms and knees against the rough and untrimmed branches.
But losing a little blood wasn’t much when you were already afraid to lose your life.
The night air feels is oppressively thick, bitingly cold as you scramble down from the branches, your whole body aching from scratches and bruises.
It hurts, but not as much as the thought of losing MK hurts.
Every cut burns, but fear drives you forward as you push through the dark orchard. Peaches litter the ground beneath the trees, bruised and rotting, filling the air with their sickly-sweet scent. You can still hear the faint echo of anguished screams from the castle above, and you know you have to keep moving, no matter how heartbreaking the noise.
Branches continue to scratch at your skin as you hurry through the orchard, weaving between the twisted trunks of ancient peach trees. The cries of the two kings haunt you, but your heart pounds with a different terror—a need to survive, to get back to MK and keep him safe.
Swallowing hard, you push onward into the forest, where the air turns colder and the ground is uneven, littered with stones and roots. It’s dark, and the towering trees block out even the faintest hint of moonlight, leaving you to stumble blindly forward, each step a gamble.
Your lungs burn, each breath sharper than the last as you push through the dense underbrush, your only light the faint silver of cloud-breaking starlight piercing through gaps in the canopy. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see the flash of golden eyes in the shadows.
You’ve had your fill of gold and silver- that gleam has quickly lost all luster.
In your scramble down the mountain path, you nearly trip over a root hidden under the leaf-strewn ground, catching yourself just in time. You can feel a faint ache in your chest as you think about MK, probably huddled up alone, waiting for you to come back. You bite back the surge of guilt for leaving him and going so far in the first place; there’s no time for regret, no time for anything but survival.
So you fervently press on, slipping and sliding overrocks and mud, your hands numb and cold as you cling to branches to steady yourself.
You’re going to feel like hell in the morning.
Every step feels heavier, but the thought of MK—waiting, maybe scared and hungry—keeps you upright. You cling to that memory like a lifeline, using it to drag yourself forward when exhaustion claws at you, urging you to collapse into the moss and leaves.
Just as you’re ready to push on, you hear something rustle behind you, faint but distinct. Your heart skips, and for a split second, you’re sure it’s them—the kings, tracking you, maybe already upon you, with Wukong’s wild desperation and Macaque’s icy agony close on your heels. You whip your head around, pulse thundering dangerously fast in your chest. But there’s nothing there, only shadows that play tricks on your eyes.
It’s just the wind, you lie to yourself.
Yet, no sooner have you relaxed than you hear another sound—a soft murmur, almost like…laughter? It’s chilling, unnervingly familiar, a low chuckle that seems to drift from the very darkness around you. You start running, branches whipping against your cheeks, the laughter echoing in the trees like mocking ghosts.
As you push further, the underbrush begins to thin, the ground leveling out into a narrow path long worn into the mountain. Relief fills you as you recognize it—the way back to the village, back to MK. But just as you think you’ve escaped, a figure steps out from behind a nearby tree, blocking the path ahead.
It’s Macaque.
The dark-furred king stands there, arms crossed, his piercing gaze fixed on you. His tail lashes behind him, giving away a tension that his otherwise calm expression doesn’t. “Running away, little rabbit?” he purrs, voice smooth and soft, velvet hiding a dagger. “You thought we wouldn’t find you?”
Panic coils tighter around your heart. You don’t answer, can’t answer, with your breath shallow and eyes locked on his, searching for any hint of mercy. Yet, even in your fear, you see the pain in his eyes, the raw, unhealed wound that losing a son has left behind.
He takes a step closer, and you instinctively back up—until your heel catches on a loose stone, and you stumble. Macaque moves in a flash, catching you before you can fall, his grip like iron around your arm. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, almost as if he’s hesitant, but it vanishes just as quickly.
At that moment, you feel a warm presence nearby, and a golden glow illuminates the path. Wukong appears behind Macaque, his expression far softer than his husband’s. He looks at you with tearful eyes, earlier desperation simmering beneath his clouded gaze. “We just want to know where our son is, sweetie,” he says, voice coaxing. “Help us find him, and we can put all of this behind us.”
For a moment, you’re trapped between them, their eyes—glowing —boring into you with the weight of ages, burning on either side of you. You are prey, trapped in the gaze of ancient predators, creatures who could tear you apart if they chose.
You feel a lump rising in your throat, guilt twisting in your chest. You want to help them, to tell them more, to ease that raw grief carved into their souls. But how could you? MK didn’t remember them. He’d never once spoken of a family, of a past like theirs.
Would it really be a betrayal to bring him to people who could no doubt care for him better than you ever could?
You rip from his clawed grasp with a sob, blood spilling from your arm where his nails were clutched tight- and then step back.
Air whistles around you through the sharp plummet, blaring out the wails of the two kings. It’s not too long of a fall, it won’t break or kill you- it’s just one more thing that’s going hurt tomorrow, when you wake up next to MK -and you will wake up next to him- and bid him “good morning”.
As you fall, the world blurs around you, and for a moment, there’s only the rush of air and the distant cries of the kings above. The impact comes suddenly—a jolt that rattles every bone in your body as you hit the shallow puddle below, your vision sparking with a burst of white. Pain blooms in your side, sharp and searing, but you manage to roll onto your hands and knees, gasping for breath. Everything aches, but you’re alive. And more importantly, you’re closer to the outskirts of the village, closer to MK.
You rise shakily, wiping a streak of blood from your face. The path ahead is illuminated by starlight growing ever fainter, barely peeling through even the sparsely dotted trees.
The half-hovel is only a short walk away, barely three meters from your spot of impact, leaving you to start crawling; hands and knees alight with pain, to that little refuge.
Every inch forward feels like a mountain climbed, your breath coming out in ragged gasps, as you drag yourself closer to that pitiful excuse for a home. The hut is run-down, its roof half-collapsed, with walls patched by whatever scraps you could find. But right now, it’s the only place that feels safe, and the only place where MK will be waiting for you.
Your fingers scrape against rotted as you pull yourself up onto the threshold, bracing against the shattered doorframe, steadying your shaking limbs. The inside is dim, with just the faint embers of the fire you lot in that little stone pit, the weak light casting long shadows against the walls. And there, curled up on a ragged mat, is MK—sleeping soundly, his tiny form bundled up in a blanket far too thin for the chill in the air.
You feel relief rush over you like a wave, washing away the pain and exhaustion, if only for a moment. You swallow back tears as you carefully lower yourself beside him, reaching out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair from his face. He stirs at the touch, eyes fluttering open with a groggy mumble, his gaze unfocused at first before he realizes it’s you.
“You’re back,” he whispers, his voice small and sleepy, a hint of worry melting into relief as he reaches for your hand. “I… I thought you weren’t coming back this time.”
“I’d never leave you, MK. Not for anything.” Your voice wavers, and you squeeze his hand tighter, trying to push down the overwhelming flood of emotions. “I’ll always come back for you.”
He smiles—a soft, innocent smile that nearly breaks you. You can’t tell him what happened, can’t bear the thought of burdening him with the danger you faced tonight, or the kings who would give anything to find him.
Instead you settle beside him, draping an arm over his small shoulders as he curls up against you, his warmth seeping into your aching bones.
“Did you get any food?” he asks tiredly, eyes drooping shut again.
You reach for the cloth bundle on your back and pull it off, watching all four corners unravel and flutter open as it’s tossed into the ground-
It’s all still there. Busted, bruised, some of it mangled, but it’s still there. Fruit, veggies, nuts, meat, and even sweets.
Just like you promised.
The boy (a prince, you’ve learned) squeals with delight, clambering over to sample the spoils of your hellish night. He settles for cramming his little face with an assortment of the pilfered banquet, accidentally crushing some bit of it into crumbs with how badly his hands shake from excitement.
It’s only when he’s full enough to pause that MK looks over to you with a frown, clambering over with a mooncake held tight in his little hands- and then he pushes it to your mouth.
“Say ‘ahhh’!”
Even through the agony pricking through your skin, a smile forms- such a sweet little thing he’s grown into, even in these… limited circumstances.
“…aaaah”, you acquiesce, allowing him to nudge the pastry between your parted lips, eating half of it in one go.
“…good?”
“Really good, buddy.” You take another bite, swallowing the rest with some small satisfaction. “I’m gonna take a quick nap, okay?”
“…promise you’ll wake up.”
Oh, gods. That hurt. Sometimes you forgot how perceptive the boy was, how eager and clever. How could you think he wouldn’t notice the suffering crawling all through your body?
“Oh, kiddo. I will wake up, I promise. I’m just tired. I’ll wake up and start a fire, and we can roast the meat and nuts to warm ‘em up, okay? I promise.”
He doesn’t seem too convinced, but settles into a hushed state as he polishes off a mango and ties up the bundle again.
“You better,” the little one huffs, looking over to see that you’ve already fallen asleep. He shuffles to his little chest and pulls out the cleanest blanket he has, draping it over your shoulders before starting to crawl in with you-
Right until a knock sounds on the outer wall of the hut.
MK freezes, clutching the edge of the blanket, his wide, black eyes darting to the door. The thin walls do little to muffle the gentle, deliberate tapping. His face twists in confusion and fear, and he inches back toward you, pressing himself close against your side, trying to make himself as small as possible. He can hear his own heartbeat hammering in his chest, the room so silent that each beat feels like a drum signaling his hiding place.
The knock sounds again, a steady rhythm that’s somehow polite but insistent, as if the person on the other side knows exactly what lies within and won’t leave without answers. The thought tightens MK’s chest with dread. He glances at you, wanting you to wake, but exhaustion has claimed you too fully. He shifts, leaning close to your ear, whispering with all the urgency his little body can muster.
The matted wool curtain is pulled aside, and a long shadow falls over the two of you.
It’s Wukong.
He’s not dressed in the regal robes from before, his crown and adornments discarded somewhere along the journey down the mountain. He looks oddly… humbled, vulnerable even, his golden fur matted and streaked with grime. He too has trekked through brambles and mud to find this place.
In that moment, the fierce, untamed warrior, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, reduced to a father—nothing more, nothing less—just a father, lost and found in the presence of his child.
“My son.”
MK stiffens, eyes going wide with confusion and a strange, nameless feeling that curls tight in his chest. The voice calls to something deep within him, something he doesn’t understand yet can’t ignore. He doesn’t remember this voice, but he feels it as though he’s always known it—like a lullaby, like the whisper of leaves in the wind.
MK clutches the edge of your blanket tighter, his face a mixture of uncertainty and fear as he looks up at the stranger in the doorway. Wukong’s gaze softens further, and he steps into the dim light, eyes filled with a desperate hope tempered by patience. He’s careful, his movements gentle and measured as he crouches down, bringing himself to MK’s eye level.
“Do you know me, little one?” he asks, voice trembling slightly as he waits, searching MK’s expression for any glimmer of recognition.
MK tilts his head, brow furrowing as he studies Wukong. There’s a flicker in his black eyes—a hint of familiarity that he can’t quite place, something ancient and deep inside him stirring, like a faint memory from a distant dream. But he shakes his head slowly, his lips pressed together as he shrinks back a little, still clutching the blanket.
Wukong’s face falls, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his grief. He swallows, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “I… I thought maybe you’d remember.” His voice is barely a whisper, so soft that it sounds like a confession, a plea.
But Wukong quickly straightens, forcing a small, trembling smile. He can’t bear to scare his child, can’t bear to make him feel any more uncertain than he already does. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice still gentle, though there’s a glimmer of resolve in his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, little one. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He glances down at you, still asleep beside MK, his expression softening with gratitude. Despite everything, despite the fear and pain you must have faced, you had cared for his son, protected him in his absence. There’s a flicker of respect, maybe even admiration, in his gaze.
But then, before he can say anything else, the curtain shifts, and Macaque steps into the hut as well, his dark, intense gaze zeroing in on MK. His movements are slow and deliberate, as though afraid that anything too sudden might frighten the boy. He stops just inside the threshold, his usual sly demeanor replaced with a vulnerability that’s almost startling.
“…my baby.”
The weight of those two words settles over MK like a blanket of warmth, a feeling he doesn’t quite understand . Still, it stirs a pull in his heart that defies reason. He glances at you again, hoping for some guidance, some sign of what to do—but you’re still sound asleep, completely oblivious to the quiet storm raging in his heart.
After a moment, MK opens his mouth, and his voice, so soft and uncertain, trembles through the space.
“Why don’t I remember you?”
The question, so small yet filled with an innocence that pierces both kings, brings a quiet gasp from Wukong. He reaches up to touch his chest, struggling to contain the ache there. He can’t meet MK’s eyes for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor as he takes a shuddering breath.
“That’s… that’s because you were very young when we… when we lost you, my little peach,” Wukong finally whispers, his voice hoarse. “You wouldn’t remember us, not after so long, but… we’ve missed you every single day.”
MK steps forward for a moment, wanting and wanting and feeling so very loved-
But then the boy pulls his hand back, glancing at you beside him, his expression suddenly filled with uncertainty. “But… I already have someone,” he says softly, nodding to your prone form. “They take care of me. They’re… my family.”
“We’ll take them too,” Wukong spits out, dropping to his knees and becoming his lost son forward. “All four of us can go home together, Xiaotian. Like… like a big, happy family.”
Macaque steps forward shaking with the effort spent to not rush him immediately. “That’s right, baby. We’ll take you, and… and we’ll take the little thief, and we can go home. Together.”
MK looks back at you, so broken and worn that he fears you might not make the night without someone else’s help- the thought straightens his brow, and sets his little head into a stiff nodding motion.
Finally, he could help you, just as you had helped him so long ago.
“Ok. Let’s go home- all of us, together.”
300 notes · View notes
whisper-in-the-night · 6 months ago
Note
The author can tell the story with Asa /the Sinclair brothers/Or Brahms. You can choose who you want! How is your recent story with Thomas (it's great) can the above listed slashers be omegas and Y/N alpha?
I've been on Tumblr recently, and there are some things I don't understand what and how. By your recent post, I thought you were taking applications.📿✒️
Omega!Slasher x alpha!male!reader
Warnings: alpha!slashers, omega!reader, omegaverse
Note: thanks for your request honey! Hope you'll like it. Have a good day ;) ♡⁠
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Asa Emory
Asa didn't like people, no. The insects were much better. Insects were useful, but what about people? They just buzz, drink and lead a dirty lifestyle. He didn't have a special appearance, on the contrary, he was quite a big man for an omega who was really able to interest someone and find a mate. But he didn't worry too much about it either. People were loud, repulsive.
But you seemed different. There was something so calm and attractive about you. He felt like a fly caught in your sticky web, even though he didn't really mind it. At first, it was strange to have someone around. Emory was a loner. But over time, he realized that you can really be relied upon and trusted. The man might not have noticed you among other small human ants. But that day you were standing in your own garden. You had a private house with a small garden full of flowers. It seemed like you were a hardworking person who loved nature. You were trimming one of your bushes when a pale blue butterfly landed on your shoulder. This startled Asa. After all, animals and insects always feel good people, they are attracted to them. So you weren't like other people.
And now he was here.
It was getting dark. The lights were still on in your house. You were sitting in the living room by the fireplace in your country house and reading one of your favorite books. It was nice to live away from people, the hustle and bustle of the city. The wood crackled steadily in the fire. The room was warm and cozy, your feet were warmed by a brown blanket you bought once at a sale in another city. Your fingers slowly turned over the pages, while your tired gaze slowly slid over the black lines. It's too early to sleep, not yet.
You've been alone for the last two weeks, but you knew that the day of the calendar was coming when he was coming back. You don't know why he comes back from time to time, maybe he was really comfortable with you. Although he was clearly not that kind of person. He would rather call it.. the necessity. You can't fool your own physiology with even a ton of suppressants.
Finally, there was the click of the front door, which you never closed, there was just no reason. There were slow, unhurried footsteps in the hallway, as if you were waiting. And for sure, today you left the light on in the hallway, perhaps this little detail alerted him, the man who loved to move around in the dark like some kind of virtuoso moth. Finally, the heavy boots touched the soft carpet material, and the steps became softer. Perhaps you should still teach him to take off his shoes at the entrance.
A moment later, your blanket was thrown off, and now was laying at your feet. A feeling of heaviness covered your hips. You didn't have to look down to know that the man had his head on your lap. He always did that. He came when he wanted to. Did what he wanted to do. He knew he could get away with it, but he didn't know why. He probably would never have been able to really kill you, even though he still acted like he had a knife at the ready. But none of his blades were worthy of slicing through your tender flesh.
You slammed the book shut with a light clap, having previously put your favorite bookmark with painted butterflies, and put it on the edge of the sofa. Your fingers found their way to Asa's head, caressing his cheeks with the pads of your fingers through the material of his mask. It was a strange material that you had never touched before. Something soft and rough at the same time. It looked a bit like the robbers' masks, but it seemed like he had made it himself.
The man made a soft purring sound as he leaned into your touch.
It was strange to have such a big man on my lap. He was really big, especially considering his secondary gender, which he would never tell anyone about, except perhaps you. Even his former work colleagues were unaware of his omega status. It just wasn't necessary. But it seemed different with you. Even after several vaccinations, you could still clearly smell his beeswax and verbena. Even now, under the mixture of dirt, gunpowder and blood, you could still feel that delicate fragrance, causing a smile on your lips.
Asa sighed, finally closing his eyes and clasping his hands on his chest. He probably hasn't slept in days, which is not surprising. He often stayed up late, thinking through all his riddles and traps. Although it is possible that all this week he was just reading a book about insects and plants that you gave him for his birthday.
Lately, the man has been almost.. clingy. Every time he got closer to his heat, Asa became unusually clingy and looking for touch. Your touch. Up to this point, his every heat was accompanied by pain and anxiety. The suppressants didn't always help, and the people around were too intrusive. Especially alphas. He remembers how, back in his teenage years, some alpha harassed Asa. The guy broke his nose. In principle, he often reacted aggressively to the attention of others. The quiet and secretive man, capable of ripping open the belly of an offender. His temper and uncontrollable aggression often got out of control, which led to sad consequences.
But it was different with you. Your touch felt so.. alive, sincere, gentle. Each time it made him have a sudden urge to take off his mask and feel your hands on his bare skin. But he immediately stopped himself, realizing that he would regret it later. The mask stays on.
You were a good alpha. So much so that something inside him reached out to you, seeking your touch and love. Asa isn't used to love. Isn't used to tenderness. But with you, he felt like he wanted to be pampered, wanted to be taken care of. Although it looks like regular one-night stands to you right now, it's far from the case for Asa. Perhaps one day he will even reveal his face to you. Would you like him? Would you like to start a family with him? Family... He's not sure he could stand the idea of children, no. But with you, everything seemed real. You were his support in life, his firefly in this dark world, even though you didn't know it yet.
But no, that's all later. Let him sleep on your lap for now. Maybe your back will hurt tomorrow because of the uncomfortable sleeping position, but it's worth it, isn't it?
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Bo Sinclair
It was a sultry summer day. The sun was high in the sky, and the humid air made being outside even more unbearable.
You were with your boyfriend Bo at his gas station and helped him sort out the parts in the victims' old cars. There was no air conditioning in the room, so you, already soaked with sweat and grueling work, were without a T-shirt, in only loose trousers. You often begged Bo to go to a store in another city to buy you more suitable summer clothes, but each time you two found yourself overwhelmed with work.
When you were taking out another box of garbage, you noticed a car approaching. Regular tourists, even in this heat? Fate is obviously against you. After putting the box on the ground, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaned against the wall of the gas station, and watched the girls getting out of the car. They were two short girls and a guy with them who stayed in the car.
"Hey, handsome. Could you take a look at our car? There was something pounding in it all the way," one of the girls said with a slight smile, obviously flirting with you.
You smiled back, wanting to enter a new game and show all your skills and charisma in the best light. "Sure, babe. Give me a few minutes." You walked up to their car, lifted the hood, and began to pretend that you were really looking for a breakdown. Although in fact, you just needed to stall for a little while until Bo noticed what was happening through the window. The girl came a little closer, as if carefully watching your examination, while her slender fingers slowly slid up your strong arm. You grinned as you watched her. Your gaze darted to the guy in the passenger seat. He could be a problem. You smiled benevolently and nodded towards the gas station, "Buddy, why don't you call my friend? He's insane. I could use someone else's help."
The guy rolls his eyes, but gets out of the car and soon disappears inside the gas station. You know perfectly well that Bo will deal with him skillfully.
The girl's actions stop for a moment and she looks at you from under her eyelashes, seductively biting her lower lip. "Can you tell me where the toilet is here?"You chuckle and wink at her, leaving an ambiguous hint, "The second door on the left." The girl nods contentedly and enters the building, playfully wagging her hips.
You quietly approach the remaining girl while she looks after her departing friend, and grab a hunting knife from your pants pocket, cutting the fragile girl's throat with a sharp movement. When the lifeless body ends up on the floor with a thud , you fold the knife and return to the gas station. The girl was just coming out of the bathroom. You grab her wrist, trying to block her view of the window with your wide body, and squeeze her hips, pulling her closer to you.
"Come on, you didn't think of leaving so easily, did you?" You purred with a grin, burying your nose in the girl's neck. The cloying scent of cheap perfume and disgusting, almost artificial pheromones immediately hit your nose. "I bet that lad is really boring, right, baby?" You spoke into her neck, trying to play the interest. You were already reaching for the knife in your pants pocket when the girl let out a sharp scream, clutching at her throat. You took a step back, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and saw that your lover's screwdriver was pierced through the woman's neck.
Bo grabs the girl's hand and throws her to the floor. The poor girl clutches at her throat, choking on her own blood. The smirk on your face becomes more noticeable when you notice Bo's dark eyes burning with jealousy. The man steps over the girl's legs and comes closer to you, grabbing you by the neck and pressing you against the wall. You giggle, covering his hand with yours.
"What, baby? You don't like it when I use your methods, do you?" You purred, watching Bo's face contort in anger.
"Shut up."
His strong arms are gripping your shoulders, and his nose is burrowing into your neck. He showers your skin with careless kisses, circling around your scent glands. He mumbles something softly, and you feel his already bright pheromones amplify. A million times better than that girl's smell. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling Bo closer, to which he mumbled contentedly. You always liked how jealous and possessive he became in those moments when he realized that he really loved you and that, damn it, he wasn't ready to share you with anyone else. You were his alpha, and he was your omega, although he would never say it out loud. He often denied this desire, refusing to really consolidate this connection. After all, people would rather settle on a free omega to claim than a marked one. Alphas don't like to take other's stuff. But seeing other omegas circling around you, enjoying your pheromones, made him mad. Anger was bubbling deep in his stomach, and his heart was clenching.
"What is it? Jealous?"
Bo lets out a slight growl and tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. His fingers are gripping your shoulders tightly.
"Mark me," he mutters, looking down at the floor.
"Baby, you're not in heat right now.."
"Mark me. Now. Please.." his voice almost trembles, and you tighten your grip on his waist, "Mark me. Show me that you need me... that you want me, not them."
You pulled him closer, touching his neck with your lips and showering small kisses on his skin. A soft sigh escapes from Beau, he closes his eyes. Finally, you sink your fangs into his sensitive spot, the man's body shudders with pleasure. Even if he is not in heat now and the mark will be short-lived, it gives him a strange feeling of calm. He belongs to you. He's yours. And you're his. Nobody else's.
"..thank you."
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Brahms Heelshire
You were walking slowly through the mansion, heading towards Brahms. The last item on the list remains: the night kiss. Lately, Brahms has looked kind of nervous and detached, although not so long ago he threw a tantrum after Malcolm delivered groceries once again and stayed a little longer than usual, chatting with you just about nothing. After that, Brahms made a real mess. He even refused dinner, which was unlike him. Although this man was basically quite strange because of his upbringing, you couldn't blame him.
You knocked gently on the wooden door, clutching a mug of warm mint tea. It was supposed to help your boy sleep. There was no response. But you heard the distinct creak of the bed and a slight whine.
Frowning, you pulled the door handle and went into the room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Brahms was sitting on his large bed surrounded by clothes. Your clothes. His hands were convulsively clutching your clothes, shifting shirts from place to place the way he wanted. The man took one of the shirts and held it up to his face, taking a deep breath. His mask was pushed up just enough to show his nose and lips. Bitten lips with blood in some places. He seemed to be trying very hard to hide the sounds he was making. Brahms let out a soft whine, clutching one of your favorite shirts to your chest, which you wore this morning because it was cool in the garden.
It seems your boy was pushing you away without realizing that he needed your presence.
You let out a short laugh and entered the room. Putting the mug of tea on the dresser, you walked over to the bed. Brahms immediately tensed up when he heard someone else's footsteps. Looking up, the man caught your gaze and let out a slight whine. Right now, he looked like a lost needy puppy. You could swear that if he were a dog, his ears would be desperately pressed to his head right now, and his tail would be tapping on this mountain of clothes around him. Brahms crawled to the edge of the bed on his knees and grabbed the edge of your T-shirt with his fingers. His grip was strong, yearning, and his eyes were full of unspoken emotions. He didn't know what was going on with him, he didn't know why he felt that way and why he was doing these things, so he hoped that you would help him.
Your hand gently touched his hair, your fingers gently played with the curly strands. The man bent down to your touch, making a soft sob, and closed his eyes. Your hands were always so gentle and caring, you weren't like his past babysitters, you were different. You were good and kind, you even treated his doll well, like a real person. And now you've treated him well too.
With your free hand, you touched his chin gently, pulling his thumb away from his skillful lips. A few greased drops of blood were on your skin, but Brahms immediately, almost instinctively, wrapped your finger tongue, cleaning it from the lingonberry color liquid. He looked at you with those big brown eyes of a puppy, and you couldn't smile. His lips gently wrapped your finger, wanting to make you feel good. You always did everything he felt good, maybe he should be make you feel too..? You gently pulled him by the hair, laying on the bed. The large body of the man touched your clothes neatly folded into the improvised nest. You lay beside him, sipping Brahms gently to yourself. Even though Brahms was a big man, you were a little bigger than him, more muscular and strong. It always made Brahms feel small and free. He didn't have to hide under the mask, he didn't have to hide in the walls, no. Brahms was just a few minutes away. You took it all, with his problems, his capricious and his appearance. You loved him for himself. He was your little boy.
Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, snorting his nose in your chest and squeak softly. With every second his body burned harder and harder, and in his head seemed to be a light mist. He was holding his nose harder in your chest, looking for comfort. You gently ran your hand over his hair, releasing the soothing pheromones through your groin glands. Brahms relaxed a little while, enjoying your smell. You always had your effect on him. Maybe he was your true omega. But it wasn't important now.
You pulled the man closer you, gently humming a lullaby , and pressed a kiss to his mask's forehead.
"Sweet dreams, baby."
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mintiicinnamonii · 28 days ago
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“hello ma’am! can i date your grandson?”
pairing: ororon x reader
synopsis: you’re dating ororon. citlali isn’t having it.
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“hello ma’am! may i date your grandson??”
You and Ororon were dating; everyone in the Masters of the Night-Wind knew. The second Ororon saw you walk into their tribe’s territory as a courier from the Scions of the Canopy, they all had accepted that their hero Ororon was smitten. Everyone, except Citlali. Ah yes, the second most eclectic yet infamous person in the entire tribe. Being the tough ‘granny’ she was, the second she heard that you were dating her GRANDSON, she did not approve. Even Ororon’s pleas wouldn’t convince her. He even tried the ‘but Granny, I love them!’ trick. Zilch, zada, nothing. You could always feel her icy blue eyes staring into your soul whenever you so much as said hi to Ororon. Hell, when you two were on a date once, she was fucking SPYING ON YOU IN THE BUSHES. 
You knocked on Ororon’s door, clearing your throat as you fixed your hair. You were carrying a bouquet of Saurian Claw Succulents, since you knew he liked those flowers besg. The two of you were planning to go aphid-watching and haave a little picnic, since besides gardening, Ororon didn’t have many hobbies, and you honestly felt bad for dragging him along with your tribe’s extreme sporting tournaments. Poor guy. 
“Oh. It’s YOU.”
You froze, blinking one eye at a time like a gecko as Citlali groaned, hand on her hip. “Oh.. hey, Granny Itzili.. what a nice surprise-“ Even though she was shorter than you, she was still very intimidating, in a strange way. “Listen, messenger. I want Ororon home by 10 PM.” You piped up awkwardly. “But the aphids don’t wake up til 9:30…” You scratched the back of your neck. She scoffed, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. “Oh, shut it, youngster. I don’t care that everyone says you’re perfect for my grandson, I don’t care that you’re well-known across Natlan. I still don’t like you! And I bet you don’t either!” 
Wait, what?
“I actually do like you.. I’m happy that Ororon has people beaides me that care for him so much.. Especially someone as dedicated as you.” Citlali’s eyes widened, letting go of your collar as she soghed, thinking for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.. Fine. Jst.. bring him home by midnight.” You smiled. “Oh! Thanks ma’am-“ Before you could continue, she cut you off. “But remember this, youngster…” Her voice darkened, taking on a threatening and protective edge. “I have eyes all over Natlan.” 
As you and Ororon sat watching the aphids, you marveled at the glimmer in your boyfriend’s eyes. He had loved the flowers, which rested on the side of the hill you both were sitting on. The night was clear, and a basket full of your favorite treats was at the ready. He looked so happy.. a smile slowly crept up on your face as you listened to him ramble about the insects with such joy. Your hand slowly crept to his waist, pulling him closer to you as you enjoyed the moment. Ororon was completely immersed in the moment, not paying attention at all. But you heard a voice from inside of your head. Citlali’s voice.
“Get your hand off there!”
You chuckled, removing the hand at her request. “Damn, she really was serious when she said that she had eyes all over Natlan.” Ororon stopped for a moment, raising a brow. “You say something?” You jolted, chuckling. “It’s nothing babe.”
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bogleech · 1 year ago
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Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.
Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"
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These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.
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The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.
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Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!
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I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.
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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 26 days ago
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Cannibals [Chapter 8: Magma and Sky]
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A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇
Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?
Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), grief and torment, a fun field trip to a volcanic rock, Red and Aemond have a very honest conversation, enjoy our special guest stars!!! 😉🔮🐍
Word count: 5.1k
❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙
Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰
🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇
“I was with somebody else.”
You startle and look up to see Aemond standing under the arch of the arbor grown over with a quilt of red roses, twisted and thorny and thick enough to drape you in shadows. You are sitting cross-legged on the stone bench and reading a book about all the known varieties of bats; Helaena found it for you in some dusty, ill-lit corner of the library when she was searching for texts concerning insects. It is still the waning days of summer in King’s Landing, and Viserys is the king, and thin threads of sunlight like golden strands of a spider’s web fall down through gaps in the arbor. Last night was the first time Aemond touched you like more than a brother, claimed you, transfixed you, and you are already alight with the lust-red craving to do it again.
Here, now, in the garden of the Red Keep, Aemond won’t meet your eyes. Instead, he stares fixedly into the contorted nest of roses, wild green punctuated with blooms of crimson like blood or rubies or glowing embers. You have no idea what he means. You reply after a moment, closing your book: “With somebody…?”
“Before,” Aemond says, like it takes great effort. He is still not looking at you. “Years ago. It wasn’t my intention for that to happen, I didn’t plan it, I didn’t ask for it…but I didn’t stop it either.” His reticent blue gaze drops to the cobblestones. His voice is very soft, barely audible. “In a brothel…there was…”
Now you understand. “I know, Aemond.”
His attention jolts back to you, a fracture set, a lightning strike. “You do?”
“Aegon told me. He felt badly about it afterwards, he thought he shouldn’t have done it, but he���” You gesture as if you holding a goblet of wine, and Aemond nods. He was drunk, he was reckless, he mistook it for a favor. But he was wrong.
“You will benefit from what I’ve learned,” Aemond says, as if still trying to convince you not to be appalled or angry. In truth, you are neither. “I hope that is some comfort to you.”
“I don’t find comfort in anything that causes you pain,” you reply honestly, tenderly. A warm breeze blows in off the sea, tasting like salt and rustling the roses and the leaves. This morning you tucked a single flower into your braid, a blue forget-me-not. Now you touch it self-consciously. “Do you mind that I’m so unpracticed?”
Aemond seems to find the notion ludicrous. “No. No, of course not.”
“But you’ll have to teach me everything.”
“That’s how I want it to be. I’m of the belief that if two people wish to be together, there should be no other parties involved. I had meant to be pure for you. I’m sorry I’m not. It is a regret of mine that I carry always. It is a failing.”
You shake your head, sensing his distress as if it is your own: a gnawing anxiety, a sickening drop in your belly. “It wasn’t your fault, Aemond.”
“So I am forgiven?”
“I never considered it to be a transgression.”
“Oh. Good.” His mood lifts; there is a phantom of a smile on his lips and a lightness in his stride as he takes a taunting step towards the stone bench where you sit. “And how do you feel? After what happened last night before dinner?”
And you grin with glinting eyes as you answer, setting your book aside: “Still hungry.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Seven days on a ship, and you don’t speak to Aemond once.
The weather is bad, grey and windy, sometimes snow, sometimes sleet, sometimes hail that pelts the wooden deck, and the vessel rocks in bleak violent waves. Aemond had arranged for the ship to meet him near Heart’s Home, where the glacial mountain river flows into the Narrow Sea, where you used to collect seashells to shatter and rearrange into the faces of the people you left in your old life. He had known you would not be able to travel by dragon. And so now Vhagar flies somewhere out there in the cold iron-colored sky and Aemond stalks below deck, haunting your doorway, painting the walls with his shadow.
A maester prods your ribs and says some are fractured but they will heal with rest and time. He gives you tastes of milk of the poppy—just enough to sand the edges off the pain so you can sleep—and compliments the cleanness of your scar. Two maids bring you meals and help you dress, wash the soot and blood from your skin, comb your hair. But Aemond does not touch you. He tries once as the maester is examining you, and you look at him with hatred that is primal and infernal and black like volcanic glass, and he snatches his hands away and makes no further attempts. But he watches you, and he waits, and he tries to piece the truth together. You can feel the bewildered turmoil in him. The ricochets of it echo in the mausoleum of your skull.
When you are awake, you stare at the ceiling or at the floor. When you are asleep, you dream of Jace and Luca. They turn to torrents of blood in your arms, or crumble into ash, or are buried in the earth and you are digging for them with your bare hands. You dream that you are locked in a closet or a trunk and no one ever comes to let you out. You dream that you are at the bottom of the ocean in cages of leviathan skeletons, dragons that lived and died before Vermax or Dreamfyre, before Meraxes, before Balerion the Black Dread, before any of the beasts that perished in the Doom of Valyria. You dream that Helaena is falling from the sky and you cannot catch her, cannot save her. You dream that Mother is telling you that you’ve failed.
Then you wake one dreary morning and hear the sailors shouting that land is in sight, and you climb up out of the depths of the ship and stagger to the bow, hooking your fingers into the rigging to steady yourself as the ship pitches and reels in rough surf. Aemond is standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, his black coat drenched with rain and sea spray, his scarred face far away, miles away, years away. Out of the mist rise the dark jagged walls of the castle that sits atop the island of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror once plotted his invasion of Westeros.
You ask: “What did you do with him?”
Aemond whirls, stunned that you have spoken at last. His silver hair, half-tied back, hangs in long dripping waves. Your own blows wildly around you. “What did you say?”
“The baby. His body. You took him away from me. What did you do with him?”
“He was burned as a Targaryen.” Aemond’s voice goes quiet, gentle. “Not because Jace was one, but because you are. His ashes were cast into the sea.”
Aemond waits for you to respond. You don’t, you can’t. You close your eyes and see Luca swaddled in one of his blankets; you feel Jace’s dark curls threading through your fingers.
Aemond reaches tentatively for your arm. “Red, I…I didn’t…I never would have…”
You turn away from him and walk from the bow to the stern—your cracked ribs aching, the maids fluttering around you and chastising your sodden ink-colored dress, saying you will catch a chill and die, and if you did you wouldn’t care—and you wait there for the ship to dock.
When you step onto Dragonstone, it’s the first time you’ve returned to the island since you were a child and you tried to claim Vermithor. You don’t understand why Aemond has brought you here, and you don’t ask. You follow the pathway up towards the castle as Aemond trails silently after you like a shadow. Behind him, the maester and your new maids trudge begrudgingly up the countless stone steps and shudder when they hear the distant snarls of the beasts that have lairs here. Cold frothing waves thrash against the shoreline. Gulls circle high overhead, squawking mournfully. Magma flows beneath the black-glass rock; you can feel the radiating heat of it, scorching blood in the arteries of the earth.
Just inside the castle, someone is waiting for you. And it is the first time you’ve truly been roused since Aemond and Vhagar descended upon Heart’s Home.
“Aegon!” you shout, and he rushes to you as swiftly as he can, his walking stick tapping against the floor, his muscles straining beneath knots of scar tissue, his chipped teeth flashing white when he beams. He embraces you like a drowning man grappling for a piece of driftwood in the currents, almost knocking you off-balance. He is laughing, he is smacking graceless kisses onto your cheeks, he is marveling at your face to make sure you’re real.
“You’re alive!” he says, cackling triumphantly. “All this time we had no idea where they’d hidden you, we thought we’d never see you again, but here you are and you’re alive—”
“She’s hurt,” Aemond tells him severely. “Stop yanking her around.”
Aegon furrows his scarred forehead as he checks you for injuries. “Are you really?”
“A few broken ribs. They’ll heal.” Your fingertips go to his mangled cheeks and scalp, to what you can see of his chest. You’ve never witnessed wounds this bad on someone who lived. “Your burns…”
“They felt even worse than they look, if you can believe it. But I’m still here.”
Not all of us are. “Helaena…”
“We heard,” he says, tears glistening in his large ocean-blue eyes. He holds you one more time, more gingerly now. “And those butchers will die for it. All of them. The Bitch Queen and her aged uncle-husband and her idiot children too.” He steps back from you and looks to Aemond. “Our spies have brought word from the mainland. The people of King’s Landing are in open rebellion, they blame Rhaenyra for Helaena’s death. If they can get into the Red Keep, they’ll murder her and free Mother. The Hightower army will soon cross the Blackwater Rush.”
“Daeron knows to wait?” Aemond replies.
“A raven has been sent. I can’t say if he’ll listen.”
“He’d better. Tessarion may have proven herself quick and ferocious, but she is small. She must not fly against Silverwing and Syrax alone.”
“I told him!” Aegon says, exasperated. He means: What else can I do about it? He is still clutching his stick and leaning heavily upon it. He can’t fight as a soldier; he can barely even walk. “So what happened at Heart’s Home? Were the bastard and Vermax there? Did you kill him? Did he beg for you to spare his life, did he weep for the memory of poor pathetic little Luke Strong?”
Aemond doesn’t respond. He winces instead, then shakes his head like he’s telling Aegon to stop talking. You look down at the stone floor, and in the relentless grey gloom of the castle, the island, you feel the white-hot searing of grief and fury in your throat, and if you were a dragon it would not be invisible but a fire that consumes flesh all the way down to its bones.
“What’s wrong?” Aegon asks Aemond, alarmed. “What did you do?”
There are echoing footsteps on the stone staircase, and you are startled to see a woman descending. You’ve never met her before, and you would know if you had; her skin is like moonlight and her pale eyes wide and staring. Black hair hangs to her waist, and it makes you think of swaying branches of a willow tree, or strands of seaweed washing up on the beach outside the Red Keep, or feathers of ravens. She wears a velvet gown the color of moss. Her belly is rounded, just beginning to show. She rests a little white paw of a hand on it and studies you curiously, tilting her head. She is four or five months pregnant.
You gape at her, then turn to Aemond and Aegon, both of whom have averted their eyes. “Whose child is that?”
No one answers you. Instead, Aemond says to the woman briskly: “Your insights were accurate. You will be rewarded accordingly. At the conclusion of the war, you will take up residence at Harrenhal. Until then, you will make yourself scarce here.”
She curtseys; it is a strange, awkward motion, angles in all the wrong places. “Yes, my prince.” But she hesitates before leaving, still watching you. As she strokes the arc of her belly, things kindle in her coin-silver eyes like embers exposed to air: fascination, envy, a vague vicarious fondness. You stare back, thunderstruck. Her long fingernails are filthy with soil or ash.
Whose child? Aemond’s?
You cannot ignore a sharp, nauseous lurch in your own belly, a place where no life grows. Beside you, Aemond is palpably uneasy. You can feel it sweating out of his pores, you can hear it in the sick thudding pulse of his bloodstream. You are reminded of a confession he once brought to you in the garden of the Red Keep as you sat under the shadow of an arbor of scarlet roses.
“Back to the kitchen, witch,” Aegon flings at the woman. “Or the garden, or the cliffsides, or wherever you were haunting before your intrusion.”
She points a talon-like fingernail at you as she begins to ascend the steps. “She is here, but is she yours again?”
“Out!” Aegon barks, and when she has vanished he sighs wearily, as if this is a recurring inconvenience.
You look at Aemond, repulsed, bewildered, betrayed. He says: “Come with me and I’ll explain.”
For a moment, you do not acquiesce. You only glare savagely at him, and if this was before he left King’s Landing a year ago—before Rook’s Rest, before Rhaenyra seized the city and imprisoned you, before Heart’s Home, before your marriage to Jace, before Luca—Aemond would grab you and drag you to wherever he wanted you to be, and he would know that when you fought him you didn’t mean it. But he doesn’t touch you now.
Instead he implores you in a hushed voice: “Please.” And you follow him out of the grey and into the flickering amber light of the Chamber of the Painted Table, where a sweltering hearth crackles and candles burn down into pools of white wax. Westeros is illuminated by fire, like all the places Aemond has burned over the past year. There are chairs positioned around the table. You sit by the Vale; Aemond takes his place across from you near the Reach, where the Hightowers hail from, where your youngest brother Daeron has spent the war waging his battles and torching his enemies. A maid brings two goblets of red wine. You can’t drink it, just like Helaena couldn’t eat blackberry jam after Jaehaerys was beheaded in front of her. Aemond watches you push the cup away and then tells the maid to bring cider instead. You wait without speaking, the only sounds the splitting of wood in the fire and the rumble of the ocean outside and the distant growls of dragons. When the maid reappears with cider, it is a cloudy goldish color and hot and tastes of fermented apples. You sip it listlessly. The maid departs and closes the door behind her.
“It was an exchange,” Aemond says.
“An exchange?”
“Her name is Alys Rivers, she is a bastard of House Strong. I found her working in the kitchen when I took Harrenhal. She is an enchantress, she has some magic to her, just like we do. She said she might be able to help me find you. But she needed something in return. A son, a child built of our ancient Valyrian blood. An heir, a castle, a future. And since Aegon has been rendered impotent by his injuries, and Daeron is far away in the Reach and still a boy himself…”
“You lied with her?”
“Well, I’ve done it before,” Aemond says. And then, when you don’t immediately grasp what he means: “Been with a woman who wasn’t of my choosing.” He draws invisible paths on the Painted Table with his fingerprints. Firelight ripples across his face: a downcast eye, a scar to match the one that cuts down from your left collarbone. “She scoured the woods surrounding the Gods Eye for herbs, and feathers and bones, and all manner of strange talismans. She tried for months to conjure a vision. Then one day she saw it in the flames of the hearth: three black ravens, three red hearts. The sigil of House Corbray of Heart’s Home.”
“And for her services you promised her Harrenhal.”
Aemond nods. “She and her descendants will rule it as House Whent.”
“A new noble house?” you mock bitterly. “And what will its banners be? A burning castle? The charred skeletons of its murdered inhabitants?”
“No,” Aemond says quietly. “Bats.”
You look at him. His blue eye flicks up to your face again, to your black mourning gown—you will wear no other colors—and your unbraided silver hair that drips with rain and seawater.
Aemond asks after a while: “Do you like wearing your hair that way now?”
Distractedly, you touch the damp silver tresses that are unbound, soft and feminine and weak. “Jace told me I wasn’t a warrior. He wanted me to look like a lady.”
“You were wed to him,” Aemond says as if he still cannot comprehend it.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. It was Mother’s proposal. She convinced Rhaenyra to agree to it.”
Aemond is lost. “Why? He was a bastard, a traitor.”
You flinch. “Mother thought it would encourage the Blacks to spare us if they won the war. Rhaenyra thought it would give her heir legitimacy. Neither Jace nor I wanted the match.”
“But now you…you miss him? You mourn for him?”
“We grew accustomed to each other. There was true affection, there was warmth.”
“Did he…were you…?” Aemond cannot decide how to say it, or perhaps he just can’t bring himself to. You can tell—from the way his gaze drops from your face to your body, a mystery cloaked in soaked black velvet—that he is thinking of your wedding night, something you were supposed to share, something you spoke of often with desperate, willful, blazing yearning. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not purposefully.”
There is a flare of wrath. “It needn’t have hurt at all.”
“Why did you come after me?” you ask, and your voice breaks and tears spill down your cheeks, and your ribs throb and your throat is full of fire like a dragon’s. “Why did you kill all those people in the Riverlands, why did you burn Heart’s Home, why couldn’t you just…just…just leave me there?” Luca and Jace would still be alive. Lady Caro would still be alive. Tens of thousands of people wouldn’t have burned or starved.
Aemond is incredulous. His voice grows louder; firelight engulfs him like he is drowning in a lake of it. “I swore I would find you if you were ever taken away.”
“I waited for you. I wondered where you were. I stood in the rookery and stared out into the Mountains of the Moon and agonized over why you couldn’t hear me or see me, why you didn’t arrive on Vhagar to save me, but you never came, and so I tried to forget the promises we made to each other because I believed you’d forgotten me—”
“I never forgot you.”
“But I was different!” you sob, bolting to your feet, pressing a palm to the glow of the Painted Table. “With Jace, I was different! I learned to be his wife, I learned to be a mother, and I was fine there, I was safe and I was happy and you destroyed my life!”
“I could feel that you were in pain,” Aemond is saying as he stands and rounds the table to meet you. “It was months ago, it must have been when you…when you were in labor…physically, I could feel it, I thought they were torturing you, I thought you were dying, and how would I know anything else if all I’d been told was that you were stolen by the enemy? You think Daemon is above depravity? You think it’s so unreasonable that I believed you to be in peril?!”
“You were reckless and cruel,” you seethe, shoving him away. “You always are. You’re always killing people.”
“When I flew over Heart’s Home, I knew you were in the forest. I saw the trees through your eyes. I thought I was freeing you, I never anticipated that you would return to the castle. I didn’t know you cared for the lives of anyone inside.”
“You should have left me there,” you choke out through tears.
Aemond tries to take your hands, and again you strike him hard, meaning it, hating him. “I would never have abandoned you,” he says.
“Why not?!” you scream at him. “Because you believe you possess me like a sword or a jewel, because it is sacrilege to let another man touch me?!”
Aemond is shaking his head. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”
You scoff at him, vengeful cynical disbelief. “In eighteen years, you never once told me you loved me—”
He seizes your wrist, drags you to him, cradles your face with his left hand and skates his thumbprint over the crest of your cheekbone. “I have loved you forever,” he says. “And if I didn’t express that in a way you understood then it was my mistake, and I’m sorry, and I’d do anything to change it. I thought you knew. I thought we both knew that…that…” Aemond’s lone eye gleams desperately; he is pleading for you to hear him. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for me? It was hell. Aegon almost died at Rook’s Rest and I brought him back but I was alone, I had Criston and maesters and soldiers but I was still alone because Aegon was unconscious and you weren’t there, and neither were Helaena or Daeron. Then King’s Landing fell to Rhaenyra and there was nothing I could do about it until I was sure Aegon would live, and when I learned you’d been taken away…I set the realm ablaze, I waded through an ocean of blood, and I did it because I swore that I would find you and bring you home. And now I have but you…you…you don’t even recognize me. It’s like you don’t remember what we were. Only I carry it now, I’m cursed by it, I’m consumed by it.”
You break away from him and Aemond lets you go, but he follows you around the Painted Table, shadowing you, chasing you. You pitch at him: “You were always so rough with me.”
“Because you wanted it that way and I did too, we craved it, we needed it, we’re the same.”
“You liked that I didn’t have a dragon of my own, you aspired for me to be helpless—”
“No I didn’t,” Aemond insists. “I tried to help you claim Vermithor, right here on this fucking island I risked my life when we were children to pursue him with you. And he did not yield but I wasn’t to blame for it. I cannot give you a dragon. You have to bond with one yourself.”
You glower at him, swiping tears from your streaming eyes. “You hardly ever spoke of dragons to me.”
“Because I knew it pained you! Because I have felt the agony of being a Targaryen without a dragon and I didn’t want to remind you of it!”
“You should have left me with Jace at Heart’s Home,” you moan, collapsing into a chair and weeping into your open palms. “I would still have my son. I would still have my family.”
Across the table, Aemond slams his fists against the wood. “Jace could never fathom who you really are. It’s impossible. He wasn’t like us, he’s wasn’t one of us. We are Aegon and Visenya, we are Baelon and Alyssa. Jace wasn’t a Valyrian. He was a Strong, and part of you would have needed to die to live with him.”
You stare desolately down at the Painted Table, glowing golden lines in the shape of the Vale. “Jace hated that I loved you. You hate that I loved him. I’m always at fault, and yet my crimes are so harmless.”
Aemond is staggered; he is heartbroken. “You loved him?”
I told him I did. “I felt something for him. I grew to miss him in his absence. I desired him when he returned.”
Aemond goes to the hearth, rests one hand on the stone mantle, and gazes into the flames. You can feel it like an echo, like a reverberating tremor in the earth: he is broken. You cannot summon compassion for him. Each time you begin to, you feel the still lifeless weight of Luca in your arms. After a long time, Aemond speaks. “I have to return to the Riverlands. I can’t leave Criston unprotected. Daemon and the Northmen will meet our armies in battle soon. Vhagar and I have to be there. If I can kill Caraxes, I think this will be over.”
You turn to him, dimly startled. “You’re going now?”
“I have to make the world safe for us and our family. Even if I’m not here anymore.” Aemond studies you, afraid to ask the question that burns in his throat. “Do you…” He breathes deeply, salt and misery and smoke from the fire. “Do you still want our side to win?”
“I hate what we’ve done to each other. All of us.” The dead innocents, the destruction of our house, the extinction of our dragons. “And you murdering Luke started it.”
“Yes,” Aemond agrees softly. He crosses the room and stalls in the doorway, looking back at you. He waits for you to say that you will miss him, or that if he returns there might yet be a future for the two of you, or that you will be distraught if he is killed in combat, or that you love him.
As the fire pops and crackles, you shrink into your wet black mourning clothes and say nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sprawled across the volcanic-rock throne in the nightscape gloom of the Great Hall of Dragonstone, Aegon gulps cider until his pain vanishes and his mind is a dull sloshing sea. You are slumped on the steps beside the throne and drinking with him. Neither of you speak it aloud, but it stands in the room like a ghost: you have both held a dead son in your arms, you have both lost a husband or a wife to this war. Torches burn along the walls. Outside, rain pours and the dragons creep and snarl. Sunfyre is here too, Aegon has told you. He can’t fly yet���perhaps he never will again—but he is alive and hostilely defends the cave where he dwells from the other creatures of the island: Grey Ghost, Vermithor, the Cannibal.
The Blacks believe Dragonstone to be abandoned, and in any event they are too preoccupied with their myriad of troubles in the Riverlands and King’s Landing to take it upon themselves to investigate, and so you are safe for the time being. You get drunk in the home of your ancestors, the Valyrians who carved out a stark, grim existence here, who dreamed of greatness, who despite all their magic failed to foretell their ruin.
“Do you know what he asked Sylvi?” Aegon slurs. “The woman from the brothel. Not the very first time, the first time…” Aegon smiles nostalgically. “Well, it’s like your first time riding a dragon. It takes you away and you’re just…” His hand flows in the shape of a wave. “Holding on. Mesmerized by it.”
“Sure,” you say, remembering not your wedding night with Jace but the evening when Aemond dragged you halfway out of the chair by your vanity and licked you, swallowed you, devoured you until you could not help but cry out, and you sank to the floor with your heartbeat thudding in your ears and Aemond lying beside you, smoothing back your hair from your burning face.
“Aemond only went to Sylvi a few more times after that. But she told me what his requests were when I inquired.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “He wanted to know how to make it good for a maiden. And who do you imagine he was thinking of?”
You don’t reply. You guzzle your cider instead. You want all of your bones to stop aching: your ribs, your skull, every place that Aemond ever touched you. You feel a strange smoldering inside, like all your bone marrow has been quarried and replaced with embers, pulsing, glowing. You feel something dangerous and primordial drawing closer.
“He never would have hurt you intentionally,” Aegon says gently, clumsily petting your loose silver hair as if you are one of the hundred cats Grandsire brought to the Red Keep after Jaehaerys was slain. “He worships you. He always has.”
“I can’t forget what he did.”
“Can you forgive yourself for letting him leave that way? If he dies thinking that you hate him?”
You swallow a mouthful of cider, hot and intoxicating. The room spins. Lightning flashes outside. “Maybe I do.”
“No, you don’t hate him,” Aegon says rather wistfully, with the solemn surety of drunks.
Alys Rivers wanders into the Great Hall, the train of her dark green gown whispering over the stone floor. Aegon scowls at her. She stops at one of the misted glass windows and gazes out into the storm.
“He flies to his death,” Alys murmurs sorrowfully, as if she wishes she could change it.
Aegon groans. “Shut up, witch.”
“Above the Gods Eye, the red and the blue, tangled threads cut by fate—”
“Be gone!” Aegon shouts and hurls his goblet of cider at her. It misses, strikes the wall, clatters to the floor and spills its contents in a puddle. Alys does not seem to notice. You sit upright on the steps by Aegon’s throne, watching her.
“He flies to his death,” she repeats, melodically like a chant or a spell. “Unless, unless…”
Alys looks at you, then turns to peer through the window again. Outside in the darkness, a monstrous beast growls, not Sunfyre or Grey Ghost or Vermithor.
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banj0possum · 2 years ago
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Hi! I love your stuff, you’re a really good writer! Take your time if you ever get to this, don’t burn yourself out.
The scenario is a delusional yandere childhood friend/monster. Like the reader found it in the woods as a kid and they grew up playing until the reader had to move away. Now years later, the reader is back..and the monster thinks it has a mate again.
Imaginary More-Than-Friends
Yandere! Imaginary Childhood Bestfriend x GN Reader
an: I believe the few people will recognize this guy from my old posts, i figured i let him out of my little toy box of characters huehuehue. i have to say though that i'm very much attached to this one and i will not be accepting nsfw requests of this character in the future! sorry if its not really what you asked for though ._." i was a bit excited when i saw your request
CW: Coulrophobia, delusional yan, this one is a bit more intense than normal, kidnapping kind of, possessive themes
🦋 You have vague memories of your old house. Memories of playing around in your old room and the faint sounds of cicadas and rustling leaves from outside your bedrooms window felt like a blur.
🦋 The clearest memory of your childhood there was playing around in the woods by your backyard. You had a small clubhouse somewhere in the thicket of trees and other flora. It was a small red tent full of flower ornaments that you've weaved and little trinkets you found while exploring.
🦋 You also remember there being someone else in the woods with you every time you played, although you don't remember any neighbors with kids when you were younger. Even then you have foggy memories of talking to someone very close to you.
🦋 You feel the truck you're riding in turn a corner and you look up to see your old family house slowly appearing from behind autumn-colored trees.
🦋 As soon as the moving truck came to a stop, you opened the door after thanking the driver and got your bags, taking a good look at the large house in front of you.
🦋 The paint was chipping and most of the metal decor was rusting, but you can fix them up as soon as you move in. Your family had to move out pretty quickly for some unknown reason so you figured many of the things that were left were still there.
🦋 Turning the key in the lock and opening the door, you could have sworn you heard scurrying from inside the house, must have been an animal that got in from a window or something.
🦋 Somehow, the house didn't seem very dusty, even though it's been sitting unoccupied for years. The floor looks swept to an extent with piles of leaves looking to have been swept lazily to the sides of the rooms.
🦋 You wandered through the house, your memories coming back to you about the times you spent with your parents, all the while, you can hear faint scratching and thumping as you walk.
🦋 The tall figure skittered around house, watching you wander around from the corners with an unblinking stare. He couldn't believe it. You were here, you're back! And you're so much bigger than you were all those years ago...you look so beautiful now! A toothy grin widens on his face as his claws scratched the doorframe he was gripping, leaving deep scratches.
🦋 As you enter your old room, you see that the dusty bed still looks made, like it's been waiting for someone to sleep in it for years. Old toys with ribbons of your favorite color tied to their necks or wrists sat in their places by a fogged windowsill as paper cranes and insects on string and glow in the dark stars still hung on your ceiling.
🦋 Just as you were about to leave to get your things moved in, you hear your old closet creak open. You freeze and turn to it, it looked like there wasn't anything inside. You wait a bit before fucking off, not wanting to deal with any ghouls or the like at the moment...
🦋 The figure then breathes a sigh of relief as soon as you're out of earshot. It pushes itself out of the closet and onto the floor. Soon you will see each other, he promises. He just has to find the right time...
🦋 You'd find items missing and reappearing in strange places sometimes, it could've been just you forgetting where you placed them, but there's no way you could have misplaced your shoes in the sink or your sweater outside your window...
🦋 You'd also notice food that was left out being eaten, not by ants or rodents though, the bite marks were too large.
🦋 You weren't some dumb character in a horror movie, you could see the tell-tale signs of a haunting, but you didn't want to let go of the house, not after all the years of trying to buy it back and all the money you put into renovating it.
🦋 Your mind was put at ease somewhat when you found a group of raccoons rummaging through your trashcans next to a window with a broken window, they could've just been messing with your stuff and eating your food while you weren't looking. You took note that you had to fix the locks soon.
🦋 After a few tiring days of getting everything cleaned up and moving in your stuff, you look at your hard work and smile. Your furniture gave the home your own personal touch while still keeping the nostalgic charm of your childhood home. You sigh in satisfaction and decide to go out and get some fresh air.
🦋 You exit through your backyard door and, from what you can see, the woods hasn't changed a bit since you left. It made you smile knowing you personal little playground hasn't wasted away. You then remember your old hideout. A wave of memories come back to you as you rush to where you remember the little red fort was.
🦋 To your surprise, the tent was still up, in fact, you could see no sign of aging on it. No damage from rain or wind or anything, it's like it was frozen in time. You walk up to it, crouching down and lifting the red embroidered curtains of the entrance and revel in the little items that withstood the years it has been left here.
🦋 Although, you notice there being more things than you remember. Did you really collect all these thing when you were younger? There were bottles of soda can tabs and acorns, figurines of animals carved out of wood, were those animal bones??
🦋 You back away from the tent, very much weirded out by the new additions to your old hang out spot when suddenly, your body bumps into something. It felt thin like a tree but soft like a plush toy with burlap for the cover. Your eyes go wide as you hear a voice from above you. "(Y/N)?"
🦋 The familiar jingle of bells sparked something in you as you look up to meet the creature's porcelain face.
🦋 You stare at the figure like it would disappear if you look away from it as you step back to look at it better.
🦋 It was a clown, a tall one at that. Its white pupils stayed on you as you can see razor sharp teeth within its mouth. His limbs looked almost jointless like how a plush toy would look. It's clothes were brown and dirty from years of neglect.
🦋 What you were seeing wasn't human, it couldn't be human. It was too freakishly tall to be one. You didn't know what to do, running could provoke it to chase you and attacking could anger it.
🦋 Suddenly, it steps closer to you and bends down, you could feel its breath on your face, it unusually smelled like candycorn.
🦋 Then it chuckles, giving you a grin before suddenly picks you up and wraps its long arms around you, spinning around happily like a child holding their new toy.
🦋 "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Oh I'm so happy to see you again! You've grown so much! Where did you go? What did you see? Did you...make any new friends?"
🦋 It pulls away from you and stops spinning only to see a terrified expression on your face. His smile drops and cocks his head to the side. "(Y/N)? Are you okay?" The bells on its jester hat jingle softly.
🦋 As your shock melts away, you figure he didn't have any intention of harming you and you try and catch your breath. Your eyes then catch a glimpse of ribbons tied around his wrists. It was your favorite color.
🦋 Your slowly look back up to the clown and you finally remember your old friend that you used to play with.
🦋 You had a favorite toy amongst your collection of stuffed animals and dolls. It was a strawberry pink clown with stretchy arms, you used to carry it around with you all the time. From the moment you wake up to going back to sleep, you had it with you. You named it..
🦋 "Hallow?"
🦋 The clown perks up at the name and its smile widens even more. "So you remember! Hahah! I was beginning to think you forgot all about me!" "Y-you're real?! I mean you were- but- h-how is this possible?!"
🦋 Hallow puts you down and gives you a confused look, pointing a finger to his cheek. "Real? Of course I'm real! I'm your best friend!" He giggles, spinning around joyfully.
🦋 "And I...left you here.." "Oh I don't mind! I'm sure you had a reason! Besides, you're here now and we can play again! And we can be together!" He takes your hands into his and squeezes them, his grip a bit shaky. Well, at least it won't be so lonely out here anymore...
🦋 From there, Hallow kept you company, he would help you out in fixing up the exterior of the house and tell you all about what's happened since you left.
🦋 "I saw a reeeaaallly big bear once! He looked all tubby and fluffy and stuff! I tried petting it but it bit my arm off! So rude right? At least I knew how to sew my arm back! Thanks for teaching me how by the way!"
🦋 He's a bit clingy, but he does give you space if you ask him. and by give you space i mean he just stares at you from the corner of the room instead of hovering over you the whole time.
🦋 He wasn't a fan of other people though, if ever a friend of yours visits or a delivery person drops by, he'd disappear in a flash, when they finally leave, he's unusually quiet until to ask if he was alright. When you turn away from him, his forced smile drops down to a sneer, thinking about the strange person that was trying to take you away from him...
🦋 Then one day, a friend of yours called and told you they were in the area and wanted to meet up with you. Hallow watched as you happily talked to your phone from the gap between your door, scratching the wood in jealousy. Who was making you so happy (Y/N)? Only he's supposed to make you laugh like that...
🦋 When your friend came, he disappeared once again. He watched you greet your 'friend' with a hug, being awfully touchy with them, holding their hand as you guide them to your couch.
🦋 He hated it, he hated them. He hated you happy you looked as you two laughed together. He wished it was him who was making you laugh, not this stranger. Infact, what made you think they were to be trusted? Wasn't it other people that made you leave him in the first place? Your dreaded parents were the reason you were taken from him, what makes you think your "friend" won't do the same. Before you know it, you could be taken back to the city, stressed and overwhelmed and away from him, your best friend, your only friend, your soulmate!
🦋 His spiraling thoughts were quickly interrupted by your friend getting up from their seat. "Alright, it's getting late..where's that mall again?" "Oh, you just turn right from the second street over." "Ok! I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon!" noon?
🦋 The door closes, and you hear the jingling of bells behind you. "Do you have to hide every time there's someone else he-" Your joking comment is cut off when you turn and he's looming dreadfully over you.
🦋 "What mall?" "H-huh?" He's glaring daggers into your eyes, taking a step closer to you as you back up, unease growing inside of you.
🦋 "What's at noon?" "H-hallow we're just going out-" "How long?" "H-how long?? I don't kno-" "Hours? Days? Years?" You're backed up against the wall, the giant clown's arms at either side of you, trapping you under him as black drool drips down his snarling mouth.
🦋 "How long are you gonna leave me this time huh? How many days am I gonna wait for you to come back to me?!" "Hallow stop you're scaring me!" "I'm supposed to be my best friend! Not them!" He snaps at you, making you flinch in fear. His glare softens then turns into a horrified expression. Pulling his hands back closer to him shakily as you shivered in front of him, your arms hiding your face. He lets out a quiver before stepping away from you. You lower your arms and he was gone, you can hear banging and thumping from upstairs.
🦋 The next day, you were getting ready for your outing with your friend. Hallow didn't show up that day. You weren't used to the silence that was left.
🦋 You haven't seen Hallow in a few days, but you always let out food for him. He was hurt, you can tell, but it was clear he needed space at the moment, you just hoped he didn't do anything rash as you went to bed a week after your fight with the clown.
🦋 You woke up the next day, expecting Hallow not to come out again. You get up from your bed and head downstairs. Calling out Hallow's name, no answer.
🦋 You sigh and figure you should get some much-needed fresh air. The tension that has built up in the house was almost suffocating to you. You went to your backdoor to spend some time outside.
🦋 But when you tried to open the door, it wouldn't turn. You tried unlocking it, but the lock wouldn't budge. You pulled and shook it but to avail. You groan and try to open a window instead, but the latch was shut tight. You tried the other windows but none of them opened. You started to freak out when you hear a jingle of bells behind you.
🦋 "H-Hallow? Why are the all the windows shut? The door's locked too!" You look to him, but he looked off. His normal wide-eyed smile was replaced with a half-lidded grin. He swayed side to side, clasping his hands together as he giggled. "Hello, you~"
🦋 "H-hey...what's going on?" You ask him, sweat rolling down the side of your head nervously.
🦋 "Well, I thought about what you said and I realized! You're not at fault here! You just want someone to be with! And I guess me being your friend wasn't good enough for you so you turned to someone else! I know you didn't mean to hurt me lovely, but I can change for you! I can be much more than a best friend! We can be like those knights and princesses in your storybooks, remember?"
🦋 He starts walking up to you, you hold onto the countertop behind you as he rambles on in a lovesick haze. "H-Hallow?"
🦋 "You won't need anyone else (Y/N)! You'll just need me from now on! We'll be together forever! Oh and don't worry about food and stuff, I can get you those!"
🦋 He chuckles, before pulling you into an uncomfortably tight hug, you flinch as you feel him kiss your neck and cheek, his sharp teeth grazing your skin ever so gently.
🦋 "You'll never have go away ever again, my f-...my love~"
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