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cemeteryspider · 4 months ago

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The Two of Cups

Remy Lebeau x Mutant! Reader

Summary: Your ability was an innate connection with the world around you which lead you to the Xavier Mansion. As well as a certain Louisiana man.

Word Count: 2.6k

You were an oddball in the mutant community and an outcast of society. Largely you found peace in knowing this due to your connection to the spiritual relam. You found solace in the trees and wind and comfort in the changing seasons. In the lush grass and flower petals that dried your tears when no person was around for you.

Your mind often drifts, allowing you to find new places, unseen by human (or mutant) eyes in thousands of years. Some caves drew you in and allowed you to commune with wandering spirits, other times on high mountains the water would guide you through and out of danger.

It was a mutual trust, that you would respect the natural or physical world and the spirit world would guide you. Sometimes this leads to crystal shops with experts in divination or sad girls who would have their cards read by you and give their lives new meaning and a more hopeful disposition.

So you followed the whispers of the wind and the pull towards new adventures until you came across a quite large estate called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You were no longer a "youngster" but still you padded on allowing the soft grass to show you the way to your next venture as you had done so many times before.

A man in an advanced looking wheelchair greeted you at the door, "Ah you are the one I saw in Cerebro. Definitely not what I was expecting."

He looked you up and down from the long thick skirts that gently brushed the ground to your hair you kept up and out of your face. His stare wasn't like any you felt before.

It wasn't the stare your friends gave when you first started reading the cards and could practically see through the girls you read. It wasn't the scared stare your parents gave you when they found you levitating in the air with the cards circling you in a protective manner. It certainly wasn't the stare of the people who yelled at you calling you a witch when walking the otherwise quiet streets of a small town. No, it was a state of awe and understanding.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Xavier, my name is Y/n and it seems as though something pulled me to this place. Something strong," You looked around and saw children running around in the yard and teenagers practicing fledgling powers under the canopy of trees.

"No, the pleasure is all mine. There have been mutterings of someone with a spiritual connection roaming New York for the past few weeks, and when I saw you on Cerebro I knew I simply had to meet you."

The side of your mouth quirked up and you reached out your hand, which he gladly accepted, "Show me."

He guided you through the main building showing off classrooms filled with students learning math and history. Rooms dedicated to combat and self-defense. There were bedrooms, some colorful, some minimalist, and some dark and gloomy. Each place radiated a different emotion, the classrooms were focused with hints of boredom. The training rooms had an air of confidence and a slight fear of failure. Bedrooms had remnants of comfort and happiness, sadness, rest, wakefulness, love, and pity. Rarely were places so difficult to pin down.

He spoke about the architecture and the school's mission. You listened thoughtfully. Running your fingers along hundred year old wood paneling, and studying repairs made to walls carefully done to match. The kitchen had a rustic charm to it despite the overwhelmingly grandiose spectacle that was the rest of the estate.

Lastly you were on an elevator toward the lower floors of the mansion which were the newest additions to the property if the shift of decor told you the right story. There were endless halls of silver and doors with identity verification and a big doorway at the end with an X over it.

For a moment it overwhelmed you, never once in your travels were you taken to a place so modern, maybe even futuristic. The old towns with stories of witchcraft embedded into their history or rustic cabins next to trees that were hundreds of years old. Even to cliff faces that had been carved into by ancient peoples whose art can only be vaguely understood.

Except now you were in a different atmosphere, but with what you assumed to be the same goal, to help these people find themselves and provide guidance.

~~~

You entered a room whose ceiling was opened showing the sky and a winged jet landing in the room you were standing in. People descended the short flight of stairs to the floor and looked at Xavier and then to you.

"Is everything alright, professor?" A guy with what seemed to be a red visor covering his eyes. Despite his eyes being covered you could feel the concern radiating off of him. You almost scoffed at the thought that you would harm or threaten the man sitting next to you, but then you remembered how weary you were when you first started traveling the country and eventually the world.

After all, you were kicked out of the house with just what you could carry in your backpack. Even before that being cast aside by classmates who didn't understand you.

"Everything is perfectly fine, Scott. My X-Men I would like to introduce you to Y/n, the mutant I've been telling you about," He smiled and gestured toward you. It seemed as though that flipped a switch in the people before you.

They started to approach you starting with Scott, "I'm Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men," He left you with a firm handshake.

Then a red-head, "I'm Jean Grey, a telepath and telekinetic, part of the X-Men. I've felt your presence in the psychic plane long before we met. It's a pleasure to finally connect with you face-to-face," She gave you a gentle hug and indeed it felt as though you've known each other for a long time.

You met others as well like Ororo, Rogue, and Jubilee but one person in particular seemed to catch your eye, "Bonjour, ma chérie! The name's Gambit, but you can call me Remy if you like."

He extended his hand to you but instead of the handshake the men before had offered he flipped your hand over and kissed your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and he walked away with a wink.

"Why does the Cajun get all the pretty ladies that come in?" a figure with grayish-white skin, white eyes, and indistinct features grumbled beside a short man with prominent sideburns.

"Finally, my time to introduce myself. I'm Morph, probably second or maybe third in the mansion's prettiest man competition," he laughed, giving you a friendly pat on the back. "See you around, Tarot."

Then the man with sideburns grumbled something nearly incomprehensible but you could catch the word Logan in the midst of the mumbles.

"Those were the X-Men, my own vision and step toward human and mutant coexistence. I hope that you will stay and perhaps guide the wandering souls that reside here."

For a moment you felt a reluctance, the hope for an adventurer's life still called, wandering the Earth helping as many people as you could handle. Spending as much time as possible in the woods and a life outside the public eye. Then you remembered the pull and how it has never lead you to a place you didn't enjoy or to people you didn't befriend.

So you stayed.

A month after that fateful day you had become an integral member of the Xavier Institute. Caring for hurt children by bandaging their wounds, acting as sort of a counselor for the teenagers who feel abandoned or children who are having a hard time transitioning, and most importantly restoring spiritual balance to the mansion.

Though not quite as spiritual, the Professor, as you had taken to calling him, allowed you to place spiritual protection around the house. Selenite in window sills to cleanse the area and promote positivity. Placed black tourmaline near the doors of the house to absorb negative energies that may come through. Amethyst near the bedrooms for calming energies.

You often could be seen walking around the house with a burning sage bundle in your hand waving it around doorways and windows and sometimes circling the crystals with it. To some of the X-Men it was odd to them, but then they saw the effects on the students.

Some of them were able to look at one of the crystals in any of the rooms in the house and take a deep breath grounding themselves, and then take another stab at what they were working on. Whether that be a math equation, a vocab word, or a new skill with their abilities. Sometimes they even went to you for advice and even asked you to read their cards, which you did every once in a while.

If someone were to peek into the office, that Charles Xavier graciously granted you when you brought it up one day, they would usually see the three card spread. Past, Present, and Future. You gave comfort to the children worried about their lives and if they'll survive their adolescence. Maybe the clarity spreads for teenagers who have a specific situation they want insight on, whether it be a lover, a friendship, or even their mutant abilities.

One day when you were shuffling your deck you heard a sharp knock on the door, "Come in."

None other than Remy Lebeau walked through the door. He looked a tad nervous around at your dimly lit office filled with candles and burning incense.

You had been getting to know him more recently. One on one sparring with him while the rest of the team had paired up. Or sat next to each other at briefings and meals. Sometimes he even sat in your office grabbing bandages or holding hands as you disinfected wounds.

"Hey, Cher... Gambit was wonderin'... maybe you could read my cards,'' He was sharply eyeing a specific crystal with uneasiness. You were aware that he didn't mess with the supernatural.

Your brows furrow and you sit up straighter, "There's no magic here Remy, just a connection to the spiritual, its connection to me, and my connection to the cards."

His eyes soften and he quickly sits in the comfy chair on the other side of your table, "Okay Cher, I trust you."

He came from New Orleans, a deeply spiritual place with strong links to history, slavery, and powerful spiritual figures. You had observed the thin veil between the physical and spiritual during a couple of your many adventures, but you never felt the need to stay. You knew exactly when your time in New Orleans was done as soon as it was, then usually by the next day you were off again.

"Okay, hon," You started shuffling the cards between your hands and between your fingers as you speak, "What are you looking to ask the spirits?"

"Well, I was wonderin', well there's this girl I really like, and I was wondering what I should do about it?" He was idly picking at his fingers, staring at the cards in your hands, or at the walls, really anywhere but your eyes.

You toyed with some ideas in your head for a moment before choosing a spread of your own creation, "This will be a three card spread, the first card is how you really feel about her, no rose tinted glasses no nothing, the second card is how she feels about you, and the third is whether you should act on this or not."

"Okay, petite, let's do this," You fan the cards out and allow him to choose the cards he is most drawn to. You saw him crack his knuckles and reach for the cards. As he touched them you felt a pull towards him, and once the last card was set on the table you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You gesture him to flip the first card over, and the face of the card is revealed. Four tall pillars holding up greenery with two people and a castle in the background.

You smile at the card, "The Four of Wands."

Remy looked up at you patiently and waited for your words, "This woman is your idealistic love. The universe has gifted you with your perfect match."

A smile started to play on his lips and you nodded your head toward the second card on the table. A naked blonde woman collecting water under a sky brightly filled with stars.

"This is The Star. This is a romantic and spiritual connection, there is a force known or unknown drawing her to you and most likely vice versa," You glance over at Remy's growing smile, "Is this going as you had planned?"

He looked up at you with wide eyes, and shook it off quickly, "Chere, I'm... I'm not sure."

You place your hand on his, "Will you flip the last card, Chere?"

You placed your hand over the familiar card and gently flipped it over. The people facing each other holding chalices.

"This is The Two of Cups, a deep mutual understanding usually of a romantic nature. Looking at this spread I see two people being drawn together both by proximity and spiritual connection. The you should tell her how you feel as the cards seem to point to a potential romantic relationship forming," You look up at him waiting for him to say something.

"Well, Chere, I thought you would talk me out of doing this, but it seems that the stars have aligned," He took a deep breath before looking deeply into your eyes, "Ever since I first saw you, I've felt drawn to you. Moth to a flame and all that, but I wasn't sure about how to approach the topic. I guess I'll just go for it, would you like to go out with Gambit sometime."

You could see him nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and his eyes darting across your face. All you could do was smile, "Yes, Remy I would love to go out with you."

An all out smile formed on his face from ear to ear, the crows feet at the edges of his eyes crinkled. It wasn't long before you were sitting in the kitchen late at night and enjoying Louisiana cuisine made by the Cajun himself.

Then it was a walk around the garden at dawn or training together that inevitably lead to making out against the walls of the Danger Room and quickly rezipping suits and pulling on garments seconds before the next set of people were scheduled to come in.

It had been a few months after you had made the relationship official and you were moving your collection of crystals, books, and other spiritual items into Remy's room with his help of course when you had realized you hadn't felt the pull to leave. You had finally found a place to call home, where you truly belonged and the spiritual world was letting you rest. After years of wondering and meeting and leaving you had found a place to stay.

The very next hour you had approached Charles Xavier and agreed to stay. You had been discussing teaching art and self-control classes with him for a little while, but now you were committed to staying as long as he would have you.

That came with a permanent place among the X-Men team which you happily accepted.

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youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

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Taste of depravity. // DARK!Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon (Cole)!Reader (Criston's daughter.)

MDNI, reader discretion is advised.

Summary: Aemond knows he shouldn't want you, especially after finding out you that were Criston's daughter, who was his father figure his entire life, yet he can't help himself but to crave the sweet taste of sinfulness.

A/N: y'all he's dark but not the usual dark, he's just psychotic(?) Idk. No noncon, but he's extremely obsessive towards her, and criston is stressed tf out. // divider credit: @cafekitsune

WARNINGS: dark!aemond, p in v sex, unprotected sex, biting, breeding kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, virginity loss, tiddy sucking, oral (f. receiving), face sitting, manhandling, profanity, reader is a bastard, aemond insults reader for being a bastard, he gets off of her suffering, he's insane, stressed dad criston, traumatic encounters by criston, dilemma, angst(?), fluff, reader is described to resemble criston so she has dark hair and eyes but no color is explicitly stated, + not proofread.

WC: 7k

Criston walked through the hallways of the red keep, armour clinking against each other as he walked towards a person's chamber who he swore to never involve himself with again.

Rhaenyra.

It wasn't the sudden love for her that made him do this, no, in fact he never even loved her, he had only realised after whatever happened on the ship with her.

It was guilt.

Guilt that he had stained his white cloak, guilt that he wasn't able to refuse, because the power imbalance between them was way too high, he couldn't risk it, burning all his efforts just because of refusing a princess.

He couldn't say no.

He was disgusted with himself afterwards.

He tried to pretend it was love to no avail, convincing himself that Rhaenyra didn't just use him for sexual pleasure, that he wasn't just an object or someone to discard, he believed that she loved him.

But none of that was true.

The events that followed along were obvious, she was married off to Laenor, and recently returned to the keep, pregnant with her fourth child.

It was only then Criston noticed the eldest child.

You.

He tried to think you were the same as Jacaerys and Lucerys, a rumoured bastard born to Ser Harwin Strong, Anyone can easily mistake you for his child itself, but not Criston.

The timing did not add up.

And neither did your features resemble Harwin Strong's.

Dark hair and dark eyes.

Features of him.

There was only one answer, and he wanted to be sure himself.

Which is what led him to visit Rhaenyra, something he would've never done in a thousand years to come.

He sighed heavily, knocking on the door, the guard allotted to her chamber looked at him suspiciously before announcing his presence, to say Rhaenyra was shocked is an understatement, she immediately opened the door, a hand resting on her stomach.

“Ser Criston.”

“Princess.” he greets her by bowing his head.

“Princess- I must speak with you, if you'll allow it.” his tone told her everything, and she looked around, before signalling Laenor, who was in the room, to take the boys to the training yard while she let him in.

He tried not to remember the last time, of what happened when he was with her.

“What is the issue?” she asks him, not wasting anymore time.

“Might I speak plainly, princess?” he asks, face stoic, he looks at him for a moment before nodding, and he takes a deep breath.

“Is she mine?”

Silence falls in between both of them, the way she clenches her jaw doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he clenches his teeth as he swallows thickly, bracing himself for the answer.

He already knew it.

He just needed confirmation.

“Yes.”

And that was enough to send all the waves crashing down on him, he stood there, breathing heavily, it felt as though there had been even more weight placed upon him, more than before.

He looks down, and bows.

“Thank you for your honesty, princess.” He says, “Ser Criston, please do not let this get out.” she pleads to him and he thinks for a moment. “Rest assured princess, I will not speak of this to anyone, for it will sully my reputation as it will do yours.” he says sternly and turns on his feet to leave.

His walk down to the training yard was swift, he was behind his allotted time to train the young princes due to this ordeal, yet he couldn't bring himself to care, all he could think about was you.

He stopped in his tracks down the stairs when he spotted you with your younger brothers, playing around with the wooden sword, they were clearly not training since he was their main instructor, just playing around.

He noticed how you smiled brightly, pretending to stab Jace and he fell, committing to his act of being stabbed by you, “Oh no more princess! I beg your mercy.” he played pretend, which made you giggle.

Then you heard a scoff.

You turned to see who it was, only to find your uncle, Aemond, looking at you with raised eyebrows as if he was judging you.

He was.

“Girls aren't allowed to train here.” he simply says, shifting his weight onto his right leg as he relaxes his grip on the sword before holding it placed down in front of him, leaning both his hands against it.

You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to speak up and reply to him but you are immediately cut off by Criston cole.

“Don't stand too upright my prince, you'll get knocked down.” he interferes with an advice for him, and you close your mouth before giving the wooden sword to Jacaerys.

“Ser Criston, May I stay and watch?” You ask him, eyes wide and pleading.

Normally he would refuse.

Normally.

But this situation was anything but normal.

“I already told you, girls are not allowed here–”

“Yes you may, princess.” He cuts Aemond off, and Aemond rolls his eyes while you smile widely at Criston, “But for your safety, please stand far away.” He tells you and you nod, immediately standing as far as possible.

Criston sighs before beginning the training for the boys.

It has almost become a routine for you, watching them train, Criston allowed you to stay and watch, much to everyone's surprise.

You had been hanging out with the boys, using the excuse of keeping a watch over your younger brothers as an excuse, Aemond did not like this however.

This obviously meant you were spending more time with Criston, it was fun being around him, when the boys would warm up for their training he would occasionally tell you about his achievements.

He has no idea why he's doing all of that, he could just ignore you, but he couldn't bring himself to.

It was a fine day, you were in the dragonpit with your brothers and uncles, Jace was learning new commands for his dragon, and you watched boredly, not understanding the obsession with dragons, you did not have one of your own, but you did not care.

Everything was going well, till you noticed Aemond, looking annoyed and wanting to be anywhere else but here, you obviously knew about his obsessions with wanting a dragon, it wasn't unknown.

The young prince's egg never hatched, leaving him without a dragon. You felt bad, knowing it must be tough to be the only one who has no dragon to ride, except you, but you had long given up the idea of wanting a dragon and accepted that you might not ever have one.

His public interest and the desire for always wanting a dragon so badly was what led to this moment, which altered him forever.

Aegon, Jace and Luke decided that it would be funny to mock him.

So they dressed up a pig and presented it to him, pretending it is a dragon while laughing loudly.

You did not find the situation funny at all, your brothers both laughed cruelly, along with Aegon who made the pig noises, you couldn't even bring yourself to let out an awkward chuckle, because you knew how this situation was incredibly mean.

Aemond obviously wasn't laughing, instead he stared at the pig before swallowing thickly, blinking rapidly, you remained silent, observing him. Prince Aegon left whilst mocking him, laughing along with your brothers and exiting the pit while you stayed back, and watched Aemond, who just seemed to be staring at the pig.

“Uncle? I-”

“Don't.” He cuts you off, his voice trembling, as if he was moments away from crying.

He was.

“Aemond.” You stand next to him, you watch as he shoots a glare at you, gritting his teeth.

“Are you here to rub salt on the wound?” His voice was laced with venom and hatred even though it was trembling.

“Why are you always speaking to me like that? I've never been anything but nice to you. Let me guess, you are going to assume that it was I who planned this as well?” You snap, words spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them, his eyes widened.

“I wouldn't be surprised if it was you, after all, it would be your way of getting back at me.” He shakes his head.

“I would never do that to you.” you mumble, which causes his eyebrows to raise slightly in surprise, “I know- well at least I think I do know- what it feels like to not have a dragon, mine didn't hatch either, Aemond.” you try to comfort him.

“It is just that, I simply do not care, I've accepted it.” You shrug, and he scoffs, “A true Targaryen is to have a dragon, I can understand why it wouldn't hatch for you- cause you're... plain.” He stops himself mid sentence, clearing his throat. You look down, fidgeting with your fingers as the air turns awkward, you expected Aemond to leave but he instead stays.

“I- I did not mean it that way, I simply meant that we are both different individuals, not having a dragon might not bother you, but it bothers me, it is a big deal for me, especially if even someone who is a wastrel like my brother has one.” He speaks up and you look at him, maintaining eye contact with him.

You don't know what came over you, but you suddenly grab his hands and hold them tight, “You will have a dragon one day.” you reassure him and he looks down, “You think so?” He asks and you nod, “I'm sure of it.” You smile but he doesn't return that smile.

He simply grabs your hand before turning around and leaving the dragonpit.

To say things changed between you and Aemond since that day would be an overstatement, his behaviour towards you remained the same, except this time it feels as though he is purposefully saying hurtful things, to get a reaction from you.

Is this what you get for being kind?

Yes.

But something did slightly change.

It was the way Aemond looked at you.

He might be mean, but he immediately comes to your defence when it is not him who is doing the mockery.

You learnt it when Aegon was mocking you and Aemond stepped in, defending you, same with your brothers, who would sometimes crack jokes that would be way too over the line, only to have Aemond shut them down.

You had mixed feelings about this.

It was a normal training day, you watched as Criston trained the boys, deciding to focus more on Aegon and Aemond instead of Jace and Luke, but it didn't matter since they were also learning along.

Until a certain presence had come in.

Harwin Strong.

You watched the interaction happen, the air became intense as Criston felt insulted, not wishing to take any criticism from someone from city watch.

Then they fought, Harwin threw punches at Cristons face until he was stopped by the guards, “You act as if you're any better, your attention towards the princess is also quite the unique thing.” Is what Harwin slowly said on top of him, but everyone was too scared and focused on the fight to stop to even care.

Things started to go downhill from then onwards.

Aemond and you have gotten slightly closer and things seemed to be less intense between you both, that was until your mother whisked you and your siblings away to dragonstone.

Criston was devastated, angry but he couldn't do anything about it, nor stop it.

Until driftmark.

He got to see you again, you stood there beside rhaenyra and your siblings watching as the funeral progressed, and clearly understanding the venomous words Vaemond aimed at your family.

Criston fought the urge to leave Alicents side and instead spend it with you, he wants to be closer to you, he wants you to remember him, maybe one day you'll even find out that he is your father, and when you do, he doesn't want you to be disappointed in him.

He made many plans, that if everything went well then your family would visit the keep often.

Of course until Lucerys took Aemond's eye.

He knew the drift between both sides of the family was clearer than ever, especially after Alicent lunged at Rhaenyra in anger with a knife.

Aemond did his best to interfere.

To everyone's surprise, when you came to realise what happened, you immediately sped to Aemond's side, and looked at his face before wincing at the raw sight, he was holding his mother before he turned and his gaze fell upon you.

Your lips trembled slightly as you looked at him softly and with pity, but he didn't return anything back, not even a scowl.

And that would be your last interaction with Aemond, or anyone on that side of that family at all.

Up until years later.

Many years have passed, and Criston tried to forget about everything, but he couldn't. Instead, as the years went by, he grew more worried but curious, he wondered if you'd grown into a woman, he wondered if you look even more like him now.

Luckily all his questions would be answered when he found out that your family would be returning to the keep, as Vaemond had made a petition against Lucerys.

Aemond was far too excited to see you too again, he remembers taking nothing but pleasure in the expressions you'd make when he'd be mean to you, they were forever etched into his memory.

Since the incident from the driftmark, Aemond grew into a much more calculated yet even more mean of a person, his words would be laced towards venom against the ones he despised, dripping ever so sweetly from his tongue.

Your arrival was anticipated by both the men patiently.

And day had arrived just like they hoped, you stepped into the walls of the red keep once again, yet everything seemed to lose its familiarity with the family sigils being replaced to that of the seven.

You did not come across both of them till the next day, until you went into the training yard with your brothers, you watched as they reminisced and smiled, you looked over the spot you always stood whenever you would watch them train, the spot looking smaller since you've grown in height.

However you felt the stares of the people prod at your back and you looked at them to see all of them whispering about your and your siblings obviously non valyrian features.

You try not to let it get to you, and distract Luke from the judgemental gazes, considering how he's already been feeling insecure due to the petition.

That was until you heard a noise in the background, and watched as the people gathered in a shape resembling a circle, you quickly patted Jace and Luke and gestured to them to come with you to watch what was going on.

You immediately spotted the familiar face of Ser Criston Cole, making a wide smile appear on your face as you watched him sway his weapon against who you weren't sure was Aegon or Aemond as the back was turned.

Ser Criston hasn't changed since the last time you saw him, you watch as he swung his weapon towards the Prince, and he countered that attack and blocked it with his sword, causing Criston to withdraw his weapon and take the Prince's previous spot, which lead to the Prince now facing you.

You immediately recognized him the moment you spotted that eyepatch, sitting snugly over his left eye.

Aemond.

Something about seeing him like that made heat travel down your body, is this what they call desire? You swallow thickly. He has indeed grown into a very handsome man, the loss of his did nothing but elevate his looks even further.

The trial match soon came to an end, with Aemond's blade pointing towards Criston's collarbones.

“Well done my Prince, you'll be winning tourneys in no time.” Criston praises, “I don't give a shit about tourneys.” Aemond answers while regulating his breathing, his grip loosens on the sword as his eye lands on you and your siblings, “Nephews,” the sword in his hand is spun slightly as he lowers it, “'Have you come to train?” he asks and that's when Criston's attention turns towards you and his eyes widens.

Jace's throat tightens as he tries to form a reply, not expecting Aemond to be this well trained over the years.

“Niece.” Aemond addresses you next and you look at him, “It has been a while.” He comments, his eye scanning your figure from toe to head, before his lips twitch, forming into a smirk.

“It has, Aem— Uncle.” you reply, cutting yourself off before you spoke his name.

“Princess.” Criston greets you and you smile, “Ser Criston, It is a pleasure to see you again.” you tell him and he nods, giving you a tight lipped smile. He's noticed how you resemble him even more now, which makes him happy but also fear.

“OPEN THE GATES!” you hear a distant voice yell and watch as the gates open.

Vaemond Velaryon enters the premises with guards around him, the chatter and everything falls to silence as the only noise now that can be heard are the footsteps of the guards as they accompany him.

The way he looks at Luke doesn't go unnoticed, causing already shaken up Luke to shiver further in fear, but you hold his hand, reassuring him.

You travel to your chambers patiently and prepare yourselves for the court hearing that would likely be held in a few hours, you sit down and pace around the chambers that were given to you when you had arrived here.

You hear the sound of a stone sliding in your chambers and you turn around to see none other than your uncle aemond emerging from behind a tapestry in the chamber.

“Aemond? What are you doing here? You shouldn't enter a lady's room like that.” You question him, calling him by his name instead of uncle like you did earlier.

He makes his way over to you, his presence was intimidating as he looked over to you. “Pardon my rudeness but how can I contain myself when my niece, who I haven't seen for the past few years appears in front of me?” He quirks up an eyebrow, his eye scans your figure once again, but this time, his gaze lingering more on your breasts before he meets your eyes once again.

“Especially when she's all grown?”

“When the object of both my desire and ire is right in front of me, how can I not?” His hands rest on your hips, and your mouth falls open.

“You are being inappropriate-” You protest.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you did not feel something when you first saw me.”

Fuck.

You thought you covered it well.

“What? Did I catch the cat in the act?” He mocks you and you glare at him, one of his hands travels to your cheek, tilting your head upwards before he descends his lips on your own.

You're shocked at what he's doing, but you don't protest, your mind becomes hazy as he continues kissing you, lips moving against yours in a rhythm, he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance and to your own surprise, you allow him to by slightly parting your lips open.

The kiss elevates further from there, his tongue fighting against yours as you kiss him back, your hands grip his shoulders as leverage while his own grab your waist pulling you close, it gets rougher, hungrier but more passionate.

He pulls away for air looking at you while breathing heavily, you hold him by the face and pull him into a kiss again and he returns it immediately.

Your head spins as Aemond walks you backward until your back comes in contact with a wall, his grip tightens on you further, he pins your hands above your head as pulls away, and you look at him with pleading eyes, your lips swollen from the kiss.

“Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful for a bastard.” He comments and you frown, “Everyone knows, they just don't say it in front of you.” He says meanly, “I could have your tongue for that.” You threaten him but he smirks, “Hmm? Really?” He mockingly questions and you try to glare at him, but it doesn't seem much threatening.

His free hand hikes your skirts up, and travels upwards to your cunt, you gasp when you feel his cool fingers press up against your clit, then travel slightly downwards where your wetness was beginning to leak from.

“Don't fucking tell me you're getting wet all because I called you a bastard?” He questions, and you try to deny it but your body betrays you by making you clench your thighs together in arousal, he chuckles meanly and you bite your lip to try and fight the humiliation you are feeling.

“You seem to like it when I'm fucking mean to you, don't you? Seriously, you're getting wet from this.” You heave when you feel him pinch your clit, pulling on it meanly, causing you to squirm.

“Yes, yes you fucking do.” He growls.

“Aemond-” You choke out his name and he replies with a hum, “Hm?” He peppers kisses against your neck as you try to form sentences but you cannot seem to do so because of the way his fingers are rubbing small circles onto your clitoris.

“We s-shouldn't— it's unseemly of us oh–? ahh—! fuck.” You throw your head back against the wall when you feel him insert a finger into your awaiting entrance, He slowly moves it in and out, he lets go of your hands which were pinned to the wall, causing them to immediately fall on his shoulders in an attempt to balance yourself.

His free hand trails down to your bodice, he pulls the material down, freeing your breasts, he mutters a curse before peppering kisses to the flesh, and biting harshly which chokes out a whine from your throat. He pulls away and watches as the shape of his teeth get imprinted into the flesh of your breast, marking you.

His mouth then descends onto your nipple, you let out a loud and a lewd moan when you feel his finger curl up and hit the sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously his tongue flicks and plays with your bud.

He inserts another finger inside slowly, stretching you on them and your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into the material of his clothes.

“Are you a maiden?” He asks you suddenly, pulling away from your nipple and you look at him for a second, processing what he said before nodding shyly, which causes him to smirk. “No wonder why you are clenching around my fingers so tightly, Relax.”

He speeds up his pace, hitting the sweet spot over and over again, you clench your eyes shut when you feel a type of tightening begin to form into your lower abdomen.

“Open your eyes.” He commands, you obey and look him directly in the eye, “Good, I want you to look at me when you peak.” He kisses your cheek, and as if right on cue, your orgasm hits you like a sudden storm.

Everything around you feels hot as the pleasure ripples through your entire being, making you moan his name out loud.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out, letting you ride your orgasm out before placing a kiss to your lips and pulling his fingers out, letting your skirts fall back to place again, and puts the same fingers in his mouth, licking up the evidence of your essence, a satisfactory hum leaves his mouth.

Before he could advance any further, there is a knock on your chamber door, before he watches it slightly open, quick on his feet, he swiftly leaves your chambers through the secret passageway, and you try to fix your clothing, pulling up the material back up to your breasts and patting down your hair.

You watch as the knight enters your chamber and bows to you, “Princess, the court session is about to take place, your presence has been requested.” he tells you and nods, clearing your throat, “I shall be there.” He bows his head before leaving the room and you quickly fix up your appearances before leaving your chambers.

Heart racing at the thought that you both would've been caught if you hadn't reacted quickly.

Aemond, in an attempt to move to his chambers quickly, accidentally took the wrong route and ended up on the path to the small council room, which he figured out when he heard the voices of his mother and Ser criston.

“What do you mean by this criston?” He was about to turn back but halts when he hears his mother talk. “I have noticed your attention on the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, are you infatuated with her?” Alicent asks plainly, voice laced with concern. “No- my queen, she-” Aemond hears Criston sigh, “I suppose I cannot hide it any longer.” This makes Aemond grit his teeth, did Criston actually like you? He couldn't let Criston have you.

“She is my daughter.”

“What?”

What?

Aemond's eye widens as he hears those words leave his mouth, and Alicent is shocked as well. “How long have you known this for?” Alicent questions, “For many years, few months before driftmark.” He tells her, “I apologise my queen, I should've told you it immediately but- I was concerned for her safety.” He confesses and bows his head in shame.

“All is forgiven Ser Criston, Was this from the time you had laid with rhaenyra?” She continues to ask and he nods, “I am glad it is just that, because I plan to betroth Aemond to her, and with what you've just revealed to me, I think I can confidently go through with this.” She tells Criston of her plans, and this satisfies Aemond very much, but there is the fact that he cannot look at you the same anymore, for you were the daughter of someone who was his father figure his entire life.

Besides, he wondered what would Cristons reaction be if he found out what Aemond actually did to you mere moments ago.

“Prince Aemond? Your grace, I do not question your decision, but they don't seem very close, from what I remember, he had always seemed quite rude towards her.” Criston speaks up, he tries not to show the distaste for the choice as he has no say in this, because he cannot rightfully claim you as his daughter. “They will make up eventually, they're both grown ups now, I'm sure they'd put their childish quarrels aside.” Alicent answers him, Criston bites his lip, preventing himself from saying anything. “Besides, she is next in line to the throne, I know there will be complications if we crowned aegon, so we'll retreat and let Rhaenyra rule, after that, Y/N will ascend, at first I was reluctant to have a bastard on the throne, but I changed my mind after your confession.” Alicent reveals her true motives to him which makes Criston internally punch himself for revealing that, he still thinks Aemond isn't the right man for you.

“It is not uncommon knowing that after their marriage- she will eventually give birth to Aemond's children, his heirs, our blood, and they will definitely inherit the throne right after her, putting our blood on the throne.” Criston nods as he listens to Alicent speak.

They fall silent for a bit thinking through it.

“My Queen, the court session is starting.” A guard comes inside the council to inform her, Aemond immediately goes back to his room before cleaning and composing himself and then making his way to the throne room.

The court session was progressing, with Vaemond backing up his reasons to sign a petition against Lucerys, and everyone in court listened intently.

But Aemond's attention is somewhere else, on you, who is currently squirming under his gaze, trying to avoid it, this makes Aemond smirk a little, with all he had overheard from his mother, he could only think of one thing.

You bearing his heirs.

How amazing you'd look with your stomach swollen, carrying his seed deep inside you, this thought alone makes his cock ache.

It was one boring session, until Viserys arrived, and knowing Vaemond had nothing to lose anymore, considering he already lost, he chose to direct vile insults towards you, your brothers and your mother, which led to Vaemond's head partially being cut off by Daemon.

This shocked everyone and Viserys fell weakly onto the chair.

“And one more final— hh. thing.” He wheezes out, “The queen- has proposed a. be- be-brothal between Aemond and Y/N, w-w-which. i. hh accept, it is a perfect way to reunite our drifted houses.” He manages to get the words out. Your gaze turns towards Aemond whose smile just got bigger and you look away immediately blush creeping up your cheeks, frankly, all you could think about was his fingers inside you.

Viserys ends up having a coughing fit, which causes Alicent to panic and scream for the maesters.

Viserys doesn't seem to have left more than a few moons to survive, so they plan a wedding in one moons time, to have the king witness it before he dies, and also so that Rhaenyra can't go back and change her decision.

Dinner that night went peacefully, with Aemond right beside you, Aemond was too focused on you to the point he didn't notice how Lucerys chuckled when the pig had come in, you did, so you shot him a stern but warning gaze, which made him shut up.

You were back in your chambers again, the maids undid your hair, letting it fall freely and got you ready into your bed clothes, you decided to sit by the fire and read a book when you heard the familiar sound of a stone sliding again.

You lifted your head and found Aemond, also in his bed clothes who was coming towards where you sat, “What are you reading?” He asks and before you can close the book, he snatches it from you and views it.

“A caution for young girls?” The name alone is enough to make blush creep up your cheeks, “If I remember correctly, isn't this book forbidden?” He teases and you get up from your seat and grab the book from his hand, turning away from him before placing it on the table.

“What do you want?” You ask, not bothering to turn back.

His arms snake around your waist and wrapping them around it, he nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck and places kisses on it, “I think you know what I want very well.” He mutters, still kissing your neck.

“I'm afraid I don't.” You try to play clueless, not wanting to react to what he's saying but all of that comes crumbling down when he gropes your breast before squeezing it tightly. “Don't you?” He questions and turns you to make you face him.

His hand moves to your cheek, “You want me to remind you? Where we left off?” He asks and you stare into his eye, not speaking anything, trying to deny him. That doesn't last long when he presses his lips against yours, and once again you're kissing him back, he is just so addictive.

He suddenly pulls away, and throws you over his shoulder, catching you off guard and makes his way towards your bed before throwing you on it, causing you to bounce slightly.

“I cannot hold back anymore.” He hovers over your form, trying to contain himself, “Don't.” that one singular word leaving his mouth was enough to break his restraint, and before you know it, he's on top of you kissing your face, neck, breasts as he paws at your nightgown, trying to remove it off you.

Frustrated, he tears it off your body, ripping it into shreds before throwing the fallen pieces away.

Your body is in full view to him now, you feel so vulnerable yet aroused, you rub your thighs together to soothe the ache forming in between them. “Spread them.” He speaks and you're confused until you realise he means your legs, you feel ashamed to do so. “Did you not hear me? Spread those fucking legs.” His voice becomes impatient now, causing you to spread your legs.

You lay there, humiliation poking every inch of your body as he remains silent, staring at your cunt, you shiver when you feel the cold breeze hit your core, and then suddenly Aemond moves swiftly, giving you not enough time to realise what he was doing.

“Wha—” your question is cut off short when you feel his warm mouth on your sex, making you shriek in surprise when his tongue laps at your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves up and down, “Seven fucking hells, you taste divine.” he mutters against your cunt before devouring it once more, his tongue prods at your entrance, before entering inside you, whenever he moved, his nose would bump against your clit causing stimulation.

He suddenly pulls away and lays down next to you before pulling you on top of him, you end up straddling his waist and lay your arms on his chest as support. “Sit on my face.” He demands, “But-”

“Did I fucking stutter? Sit. On. My. Face.” He growls and cuts you off, making you shiver and you obey him changing positions to where your cunt is hovering right above his mouth, his warm breath hitting it.

He grabs your thighs harshly, annoyed at your reluctance and pushes your cunt into his mouth before lapping at it like a man starved, you throw your head back at the pleasure.

You move your hips unknowingly to aid your building pleasure, and it is when he nips at your clit that you feel your peak coursing through your lower body, you choke out a moan of his name.

He once again changes position by laying you on your back and moving up a little, his lips meet yours again, and you wince at the tangy taste of your own juices.

Aemond pulls away, “Gosh, I can't believe a bastard like you has me fucking cunt struck.” He whispers in your ear, “D-don't call me that.” you tell him, “But you seemed to to fucking like it earlier.” You stay quiet to that, not wanting to admit it.

“I know of your tastes my lovely niece, do you even know who your father is?” He asks and you shake your head no, “It's Ser Criston Cole.” He tells you and you look at him shocked, “I overheard him talking to my mother earlier, how does it feel? Lady Cole?” and you remain quiet.

Ser Criston Cole was your father?

It all made sense now.

“But enough of that, your attention should be on me.” He grabs you by your cheeks, squeezing them, “My dirty little whore of a bastard, with a cunt so divine that it puts gods to shame.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, letting me do all of this to you, do you have no dignity? you're crumbling the moment I try to do something.” He says meanly and tears prick at the corner of your eyes, it wasn't anything new, he had always been this way, ever since he was young, you knew this was humiliating, you knew this was insulting, seven hells, you're even almost crying at his words, yet you can't help but get wet at everything he's saying.

“You're mine, you have always been mine, got it? mine to mock, push you around, fuck, breed and do whatever as I please.” He growls, you lay there and nod, “Gods, it feels so good to be so mean to you, I hate to admit it, but I love seeing you cry.” He wipes the tear that has escaped your eye with his thumb before putting the very same thumb into his mouth and tasting it.

He pushes you further up the bed, before he sits back, he undoes his breeches, and pulls it off along with his tunic, leaving him bare just like you, and you swore that the gods favoured him much more than others, his body seemed as if it was sculpted and moulded personally by the smith himself.

He spreads your legs wide before placing himself between them, his cock rubbing against your folds, “Do you want my cock so bad? Your cunt is fucking weeping for it.” He questions and you nod, “Use your words.” He orders you, and you swallow, “I want your cock.” You speak slowly.

“Beg for it.” He smirks when he sees your eyes widen, and you take a deep breath, trying to form words, he taps your clit with his cock causing you to squirm, “Please-” You managed to choke out. “Please what?”

“Please—! Please I want your cock inside me so fucking badly.” You say, and that is enough for Aemond before he positions his tip at your entrance. “This is going to hurt okay?” He tells you, and you nod.

And gods did it hurt.

His cock was too big, the stretch was unbearably painful, yet Aemond was patient, pushing in slowly and slowly until he was fully sheathed, it took him every grain of control to not start ramming into you like a wild beast, especially the way your cunt was clenching around him, he breathed heavily, letting you relax and adjust to him.

“I'm going to move, stop me if it's too painful.” He tells you and you stare at him, “I thought you found joy in my pain.” you mutter which makes him chuckle, “I do, but even i have my limits, and this is where I draw the line.” He tells you, which makes you smile, “You can move now, Uncle.” you tease and he grits his teeth before drawing his hips back and thrusting into you harshly, you wince as the first few thrusts cause you slight pain, until you relax and eventually get used to it, and slowly get pleasure from it.

But this pace wasn't enough.

“Faster- Aemond–” You heave out as your body jerks up and down beneath, and just like you pleaded, he swiftly increases the speed. “You're a filthy fucking bastard, you know that?” Aemond sneers at you, grabbing you by the cheeks as he brutally thrusts into you. “Answer me.” he groans into your ear and you nod, earning a light slap from him on your cheeks, “With words.” he growls.

“Yes, I- know!” you moan when you feel the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot, hands gripping the linen sheets tightly as he bullies your hole. “And who does this filthy bastard belong to?” He asks, sickeningly sweet, hands leaving your cheek to grip at your breast, twirling your nipple in between his thumb and index finger.

“Y-You.” You gasp when you feel his hand trail down to your cunt and press up against your bundle of nerves before rubbing small and gentle circles on it, elevating your pleasure. “Good girl, you're so good for me, aren't you? Good for your uncle, you'll let me breed you right?”

“Hmm–! Yes! I'll let you breed me– oh fuck right there– yes–” You throw your head back against the bed as you feel him hitting and ramming into your sweet spot again and again and before you know it, your peak is ripped through you brutally, causing you to clench around his cock, making him moan loudly.

“Fuck-” and with a gasp, Aemond finishes inside you, his hot spend coating your inner walls, creating a warm feeling, he slowly rides his orgasm out, staying in until his cock begins to soften.

“You'll look so beautiful with my children, your breasts will swell with milk, and I'll indulge myself in them, because you're mine, you belong to me and I shall do as I please with you, and you'll let me right?” He asks and you nod, “Such a fucking pretty bastard, and my soon to be wife.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He pulls you into his arms and you both fall asleep, too tired to even clean up because of the eventful day.

A month later.

To say Criston was disappointed would be an understatement, he didn't hate Aemond, but he didn't like him to the point where he would watch his only child, that too who he cannot claim openly, be wedded off to him.

But at least you look happy and content with him.

After the vows were said and you were officially declared as Aemond's wife, Criston left the scene not being able to control his emotions, he stood at the very same place where he almost took his life, gazing up into the sky, “Ser Criston?” He heard your voice and immediately turned to you, “Princess.” He bows, “You can drop the formalities.” You tell him with a smile and he looks at you questioningly, “Fathers shouldn't be formal with their daughters after all.” You explain and his eye widens before he looks around to see if anyone heard that.

“You- know it?” He chokes, not being able to hold back his tears anymore. You nod “Aemond told me.” You tell him, and he immediately hugs you and you return the hug, “I am sorry, I failed you, but I had my own reasons, even then, I still apologise, I wish I had been there for you more.” He cries and you pull away from the hug, “It is fine, I can understand.” you reassure him and he smiles at you.

Everything seemed to have ended happily.

Though there was that one thought which Criston had that was immediately forgotten when you pulled him back to the wedding.

How did Aemond even come to know of it?

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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possiblylando · 6 months ago

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Chainsaw Man 168 Early Analysis

Okay so- I'm going to start with something pretty important translation wise. Viz as usual did not translate things very well.

Keep this in mind because it changes this whole scene's meaning. [Edit Start] Bit of a further correction since the phrasing is further complicated.

Some important updated context that fleshes out Asa's mental state further. [Edit End]

This whole fucking section is sickening not just because this is Denji again being sexually abused and then tossed aside as he has been since chapter 1, but because this is a near exact parallel to Makima and her treatment of Denji. Denji and Asa don't even seem able to process the handjob and instead go to the kiss. Remember Denji's first 'kiss' was from Makima. She framed it as an act of love and then ripped all that away by the end of part 1. Yet again Denji is kissed and his reaction is to want to know if she actually loves him or is just using him like Makima did. I doubt he's specifically thinking about Makima in this scene but you can see how deep the scars have been ingrained in his psyche. Similarly fucked is Asa's reaction to this because she's just as much a victim in all of his as Denji is.

Asa is able to control her body just enough to start beating the shit out of Yoru. It's a pretty fucked parallel to self harm inflicted by victims of sexual assault. Asa obviously has a lot of mental issues and in this moment she's unable to fully process the fact she's also a victim in this situation. She instead pivots to the idea that she's just as much of a perpetrator as Yoru is.

The thousand yard stare kinda has two different meanings in this end bit as well. For Denji its showing his inability to fully process things. We've seen before he goes straight to self harm to get his mind of things but since he can't turn into chainsaw man in this instance he has nothing. So he resorts to his other terrible coping mechanism; He freezes. Whenever something traumatic happens to him he near completely freezes up until someone snaps him out of it. As for Asa it seems to be because she's stuck in her own head spiraling. I doubt she'll be able to recognize the fucked up complexities of the situation anytime soon, so her mental state is just going to continue to get worse.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm 168 #csm yoru #denji hayakawa #asa mitaka

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faesdreaming · 1 year ago

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Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

#yandere romance #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #tw yandere #yandere oneshots #yandere x you #reader x yandere #you x yandere #yandere diety #yandere god #yandere x darling

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demigoddessqueens · 2 months ago

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Hi! S9 hopefully your request is open

Pleayd do bg3 witg the like main crew (astarion, gale, karlach, wyll, halsin, shadowheart) and gorthas and minthara

Someone threatibg/attempting to hurt or kill reader and their reaction

Please and thank you 🫶🫶

Heyy Bianca!! 💕

Masterlist 11

Astarion

Everything is happening in slow motion and so fast all at once, but the next thing the vampire remembers is your attacker motionless on the ground. He’s shaking with those ragged breaths and thousand yards stare but it immediately diminishes as soon as he sees you’re safe.

Gale

You see a bright orb of magic summoned against your attacker and then they are no more. Gale is breathless but trying to stay calm, for your and his sake, as he frantically looks you over before pulling you into a hug

Karlach

A raging war cry and axe sunken into your enemy fills you with an adrenaline rush of relief.

“Soldier!! Stay with me! It’s not time for us to know defeat!”

Wyll

He’s skilled with a sword and doesn’t hesitate to dispatch the one who dares attack you. Immediately runs to your side to see if you’re injured

Halsin

You’ve rarely seen a temper get the best of him but the Druid doesn’t hesitate for a second to maul and render those who wish his flower harm. Even in your shaken state, he gathers you protectively in his arms

Shadowheart

Like the avenging angel cleric warrior she is, you can only watch in amazement as your fearless lover defends you in battle, only offering a gentle smile at the first sign you’re safe

Gortash

He’s no longer the dignified individual he once thought himself, all the decorum and dignity stripped away into a fury of a man who has clawed and maimed every inch of the person who tried to get you

Minthara

She is fierce and bloody and protective of you, and this extends as well to exacting her vengeance against some plebe who charges at you

Tries to make light of the situation in a way, “you’re not getting rid of me that fast yet”

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dontforgetukraine · 3 months ago

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"My grandfather had sheep, oxen, and a cow. People in masks came, knocked down the wall, and took everything: furniture, clothes, oil, flour, cattle. When they wanted to take the cow, the grandmother refused, and they struck her. The grandfather grabbed a pitchfork and did not allow them to take it. But he was threatened that they would take it anyway. The cow lived with us in the house. One day, while we were sleeping, I heard a cow being taken out so I called my father. When we went into the yard, we saw a butchered cow with hooves wrapped so that it wouldn't make noise while being taken out. My father gave the meat to hungry people. In 1932, we planted a lot of potatoes, and they grew well. We put the harvested potatoes in a hole and covered them with a layer of straw. In the morning, we got up, but there was no straw or potatoes, and just the ones that were in the house remained. When the potatoes were boiled, our neighbour came and asked to give her potato shells for her children. My grandfather was a fisherman. He would catch fish and give it to people. Once, they wanted to take the fish from him, but the people stood up to protect him, saying the words: "Come to the boat, we will strangle you with our bare hands." I remember my mother and I going to visit my godmother. We arrived there, came into the house, and saw her sitting at the table, swollen and dead."

These memories from the National Book of Memory of the Kherson region belong to Mariia Pidvorok (née Kudas), born in 1921. She survived the Holodomor in the village of Kozachi Laheri of the Oleshky community. Today, the village located near the long-suffering Krynky is under occupation. It suffered significant destruction: a three-story school designed for a thousand students, a kindergarten, a dispensary, a pharmacy, a church, residential and social infrastructure were damaged. In June 2023, as a result of Russians undermining the Kakhovka HPP, Kozachi Laheri was partially flooded. "Another prosperous village in the Kherson region is disappearing. Before the war, it had a population of about 3,722 people. Today, it is a wasteland where the Russian military wanders and robs the property of local residents," states the Telegram channel "Ukrainian South".

Source: Holodomor Museum Photo: The first threshing with a grain of the state farm "Kahovka" of the Kherson district, 1930, TsDAEA

#Ukraine #Holodomor #quote #Ukrainian history #lived experience #Mariia Pidvorok

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wing-ed-thing · 2 months ago

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Life of the Party (Niji Vinsmoke x Reader)

Synopsis: An infamous flirt who throws the best parties in town, your charm utterly captivated your favorite guest, Niji Vinsmoke. But at your latest rager, Niji finds that your attention and favoritism aren't exclusive to him.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Modern AU, Petnames (baby, sweetheart, hotstuff, babe), Reader Flirts with Everyone, Slight!Zoro x Reader, Pretentious Rich (Adult) Kids, Everyone is Shallow and Selfish and Kinda Sucks, Name Calling, Language, Verbal Fights, Alcohol, Suggestive Language

Notes: Maybe I went a little beyond the prompt, but Niji and this MC were such a blast to write I love this setting

The Vinsmoke boys were hardly strangers to a good rager, and when it came to ones that Ichiji would readily, intentionally drag himself out to, your parties were almost always guaranteed his presence. He’d even go as far as to put it in his calendar, for fuck’s sake, and it wasn’t just for the free booze.

As you perked up from the other side of the pool, Ichiji was reminded why he had gone through the trouble of dragging his brothers out in the first place. You made a show of standing up on a sturdy, expensive-looking pool chair as you waved, and to a lack of surprise, you were wearing something that left little to the imagination.

The booze was bottomless, the guest list was always impressive, and all the decor was as high-end as money could buy. Extra, as Yonji had once described it, or perhaps he was describing you. It all accented the modern pool in the center of your yard that easily cost tens of thousands of dollars in and of itself, yet all of it paled compared to the actual reason Ichiji always showed up.

By the time you dismounted and began to run toward them— with little regard for how the colorful drink in your hand was spilling over the edges— Niji had stopped mid-sentence to take his sunglasses off to reveal shining, blue, captivated eyes.

You were the one person who could make Niji shut the fuck up.

“Ichiji, baby.” He leaned to accept the two kisses you placed on his cheeks. He wouldn’t do the same for anyone else, and both of you knew it. You spared a glance just behind the eldest Vinsmoke son before returning your self-satisfied gaze to Ichiji. “Need a babysitter that bad?”

Ichiji let out a reluctant sigh. You could always clock him faster than he expected. He should have known as much; it happened every single time.

“Please just take him.”

“There’s already a drink for you at the bar.” With a wink, you swatted him away with the back of your hand, and it didn’t take much more convincing for Ichiji to wander off.

Niji had been particularly insufferable for the past week, which was saying something considering that regularly insufferable seemed to be Niji’s default state.

When you turned your attention to Yonji, you noticed that he had already taken his shirt off, grabbing it from the back collar to heave over his head and throw somewhere onto the lawn. He donned lime green swim trunks, and his brown sandals were also lost somewhere in the grass. You’d surely find them tomorrow morning and add them to the growing stock of clothes Yonji had already left at your place. He certainly passed out in the guest room enough times.

Yonji barely greeted you with a simple “Hey hot stuff,” leaning down to just brush his lips across your cheek as he bounded toward the pool. You caught something about an inflatable crocodile before you heard a loud splash behind you.

Niji was left grinning from ear to ear as you sauntered toward him, grabbing him by the loose tie he wore and pulling it tight around his throat. You tugged him toward you to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips.

”Hi, Niji.”

Niji was your favorite, and that was something he reveled in every blessed day he had on earth.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You pulled back, still keeping a grip on Niji’s tie. Your bottom thumb swiped along the opposite corner of his mouth to clear away a bit of drool. You had him wrapped all the way around your finger, and if his reactions were any more cartoonishly apparent, you might have seen tiny little hearts in his pretty blue eyes.

His finger hooked around the band of your swimsuit.

“I like this.”

“I thought you might. It’s new; I got it this weekend—”

Niji’s touch recoiled as you led him to the other side of the pool where you had been before, pulling him by his tie. The thin, patterned tie that complimented his casual, sleeveless, black button-down draped nicely over the back of your shoulder, and you continued to play with it as you sat and leaned your side against his chest.

You sat on the cushion of the deep poolside lounge between Niji’s spread thighs with one arm draped over his shoulder. Your legs curled over his left leg. The hand over his shoulder played with his undercut, causing a shiver to go down his back.

“There was this new cafe that opened in Cocoyashi that I was dying to go to, and so, of course, I had to call up Nami because she’s from there, you know. Did you know that Nami grew up in Cocoyashi?” you babbled. Niji nodded along, a scotch neat somehow having found itself in his hand.

“That’s crazy,” Niji hummed, taking a sip.

“And so she’s showing me all these boutiques. Oh! The cafe had this blueberry danish that made me think of you. You have to go and try it…”

You usually rambled on like this, draping yourself over Niji’s arm or placing yourself in his lap to tell him all about the frivolous little treats you had bought yourself since the last time you’d seen each other. You dropped names in every other sentence, many of which Niji didn’t know nor care.

If he was being frank, when it came to your babbling, Niji couldn’t’ve given less of a shit, and if you were anyone else, he would’ve already pushed you off his lap. But you kept a few fingers running through his hair and a drink in his hand, and so, the more Niji drank, the less he cared how chatty you were.

“Niji, have you been working out?” You splayed a hand over his chest, tossing his tie over his shoulder. You knew when you were losing him as well as you knew how to rein him back.

Niji grinned widely, slouching a bit more into the couch with one arm slung over the back cushions and the other around your waist.

“Yeah,” he bragged, a light red tinge on his cheeks. “I’ve been on a cut.”

Niji had the textbook definition of a swimmer’s body. Tall, with a lean, muscular build and broad shoulders, his figure was toned and objectively attractive. A cut, he said with his second glass in his hand. You must’ve been exceptional.

“Wow, really?” you asked, letting your eyes wander as Niji began some tangent about red meat or protein something.

Suddenly, you shot up, nearly causing Niji to jump with you as you let out a boisterous scream before shooting off toward the other end of the lawn. New guests typically parked out front in your massive, circular driveway and let themselves in the main entrance and out the back door to the pool area. You bounded toward the door, just about throwing yourself at the man who had just arrived before he could even step fully onto the lawn.

Yonji resurfaced from under the water, raising his arms to hold the ledge near where Niji had been left. Niji sat at the edge of the couch cushion, elbows over his knees as his leg bounced.

“The hell is that all about?” Yonji asked, not about to see from the pool.

Niji grumbled, pursing his lips inward as he glanced toward you and then back to Yonji with a rude, pointing gesture of his thumb.

“Did you know Roronoa was gonna be here?”

Yonji turned, keeping a hand on the ledge of the pool.

“Oh, shit.”

Niji huffed again. Yonji’s reaction hadn’t exactly been helpful. Niji looked away for a second, and by the time he looked back, the group at the entrance of the yard had multiplied. Niji stood up, storming over to the other side the moment he laid eyes on a familiar cut of blond hair.

“A 2015 Château Margaux, an elegant wine for an elegant host.”

“Aw, Sanji, you shouldn’t have! You’re so sweet.”

Sanji was more than eager to receive the two kisses you offered his cheeks.

Niji passed the one guy who competed in the professional shooting competitions, who was making his way to the pool before nearly colliding with the bigger guy who always hosted barbecues at the beach that Niji never went to. Jesus, the entire crew was here.

Niji glared holes in the back of Sanji’s head, grabbing him by the back collar of his Hawaiian shirt before yanking him back. He disappeared from the group quietly enough, with everyone’s attention captivated by you while you were captivated by everyone else. The life of a host never had its breaks, Niji supposed.

“The hell you think you’re doing here?” It wasn’t the smartest question, but it was the one that left Niji’s lips.

Sanji ripped himself away from his brother’s grasp to face him defensively. Sanji had gone to live with their mother almost ten years ago, and despite Sora’s attempts to build close bonds amongst her children, Sanji hardly spoke to any of his brothers after he turned sixteen. Niji suspected he kept in contact with Reiju, but she’d never tell him and Niji certainly didn’t care. Now, in adulthood, while the Vinsmoke siblings would see each other on occasion, it was almost never purposeful.

“We were invited, dumbass.”

You knew everyone; by extension, everyone was invited to your extravagant parties. Sanji had been to them before, as had other friends you and Sanji shared mutually. They, however, were an uncoordinated bunch and rarely showed up together. Zoro was a rare sighting in and of himself.

“God damn, Zoro, where’d you get these?”

You stood in front of him, weight shifted to your hip. You held the bottle of wine from Sanji cradled in your left elbow while your right hand wrapped around Zoro’s exposed bicep. He wore a sleeveless workout hoodie and dark green basketball shorts. Your hand barely wrapped around half his muscle.

“I dunno. They’re the same size as last time.”

“No way. They’re definitely bigger. Are you gonna get in the pool?”

“Ha! Not with that bar over there, are you kiddin’ me?”

Niji came up behind you, snaking an arm gingerly around your lower back as he leaned in, trying to catch your attention from your peripheral. He made eye contact with Zoro, who immediately frowned at his presence.

The begrudgingly mutual tolerance Zoro appeared to have with Sanji didn’t appear to extend to any of the other Vinsmoke brothers. Yonji occasionally worked out with him, but they were hardly close enough to hang out outside the gym. Zoro glanced Niji up and down before crossing his arms.

Niji’s reputation proceeded him.

“Vinsmoke.”

“Roronoa.”

“Niji, come check out Zoro’s arms. Aren’t they crazy?” You were oblivious to the silent round of ocular fisticuffs that occurred out of your range of sight. Zoro stared Niji straight on, an acutely smug smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. “You must have a killer routine.”

“Kenpō,” Zoro said, popping the “p” sound.

Niji tore his eyes away from Zoro and tugged at the band of your swimsuit.

“C’mon, baby, weren’t we talkin’ about something?” he tried to laugh, trying to fight off the way he was burning up inside. Niji’s barely restrained temper usually got him kicked out of events like these, but he wasn’t about to break one of the only rules you had.

One, don’t break shit. Two, don’t steal shit. Three, no fights.

“Not really.” You shrugged off his touch, much to Niji’s dismay.

He immediately scowled. You didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to. Zoro, on the other hand…

“Hey, man, you got a problem or something?”

Zoro’s arm extended in front of you, making you step back as he pivoted to stand partially between you and Niji. Niji was forced to step back, and for once, he took a second to think carefully as a deep scowl contorted his lips. Well, he thought as carefully as Niji could think.

The usual slouch of his back disappeared as he rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders back. He had a few inches on Zoro in height, even as Zoro stood with his chest puffed out and his arms crossed over his chest. They squared each other up, moving in close before you injected yourself between them. You planted a firm palm in the middle of Zoro’s chest and then Niji’s, having to put a bit of effort into pushing them apart.

“Alright, boys, tone it down with the testosterone. If you’re gonna fight, you’re not doing it here.” You frowned, trying to shoo both of them in different directions. “Grab a drink or something.”

They held heated glares even despite your protests.

“I’m not the one who has the problem here.”

“You white-knighting, Roronoa?”

“God, just kiss already or shut the fuck up!” You snipped at the two of them, turning to scold one away before turning around to dismiss the other. You snapped your fingers before grabbing the bottle of wine you had shoved into Sanji’s arms. “C’mon,” you said to him with a huff. “I wanna open this.”

Sanji gladly followed you inside. Zoro rolled his eyes and made for the bar, and Niji, not one to give up so easily, chased after you, calling your name.

You barely reached the doorway to your house when you stopped, letting your shoulders fall with a dramatic sigh. Sanji was a few steps ahead of you. His mouth opened as Niji continued to pester you, stepping forward to get involved. But you stopped him, once again passing the bottle of wine off to Sanji as you started to get annoyed.

“Sanji, love, be a dear and open this please. I’ll be right over.” You accented your words with a pointed glance Niji’s way.

Sanji was reluctant to back off, glancing between you and his brother before slowly entering the kitchen. The modern, open kitchen was just inside the back door. Nami and Robin were already seated at the island, chatting amongst themselves as they snacked on the ridiculously large charcuterie spread.

You pulled Niji aside.

“What?” you snipped. Niji shifted his weight to his back leg and shoved a hand casually into the pocket of his shorts with a wide grin. He trailed the back of his knuckles along your cheek.

“You know I love it when you get all fiery, baby, but c’mon now—” He glanced toward where Sanji was pouring wine. — “The hell are you hanging out with my loser brother for when we were having such a great time?”

You rolled your eyes. Niji scowled as you pushed his hand away.

“Because you’re being annoying, Niji,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest with an upturned nose. Niji visibly darkened, shoving his other hand into his empty pocket as he hunched over you. “Maybe don’t act like a freak when I’m just trying to say hi to my friends.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling feeling up Roronoa?” His voice dropped in tone, but didn’t lose the arrogant attitude. Niji cocked his head to the side, his face growing closer to yours. You blinked in astonishment, lip curling as you recoiled.

“The fuck?” you spat. “Have you seen the way I talk to you and your brothers? With literally everyone here? Or is it because it’s Zoro?” Niji’s expression visibly twitched at the mention of Zoro’s name. His back straightened the slightest bit before he leaned back toward you, arms crossed tightly over his arms.

“It’s different.”

“Literally, how?” You glanced around the corridor you stood in. You weren’t very secluded, but no one appeared to have followed the two of you to check out the commotion. You’d prefer to keep it that way. “Because you don’t have to like everyone I’m friends with. I haven’t seen him in a long time, Niji, so why don’t you shut the fuck up.“

“Hey, watch it,” Niji gritted. He grew closer, and you glanced him up and down with disgust.

“Or what? Are you gonna fuck me up, Niji?” You pushed him back. Niji’s arms unfurled as he almost slammed his back into an adjacent wall. “Are you gonna beat me unconscious because I’ve pissed you off?”

You were getting in his face, and Niji pulled back, pivoting around on his heel with a series of head shakes as he ran a hand over his face. He pointed a finger at you.

“That’s a low fucking blow; that happened when I was a kid, and I never would have told you that if I knew you were going to lord it over my fucking head—”

— “Seventeen is barely a kid!” —

“You’re the one who fucked off to feel up another guy’s tits.” Niji pointed aggressively in the direction of the backward. “So check your bitchy fuckin’ attitude ‘cause I’ve done jack shit.”

“Yonji’s tits are in my hands like every time he’s here, and you’ve never said shit about that, now have you, Niji?” You were screaming at this point, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if you turned a few heads of guests who were enjoying your indoor amenities. You were heated, bursting at the seams with little regard for how ridiculously your fight was devolving.

Niji rolled his pretty blue eyes. They were still pretty, no matter how pissed off you were at him. Maybe you found them pretty because he was your favorite, or perhaps he was your favorite because you found them so pretty.

“That’s because Yonji’s Yonji.”

“He’s got his own fucking drawer here, and you’re getting pressed over nothing! You can’t come here, acting like my boyfriend and starting shit when you don’t do relationships.” You weren’t expecting your words to ring out over the room like they did.

Suddenly, the energy in the atmosphere took a deep plummet, leaving you and Niji face to face. Both your eyes were wide as they stared into each other. You watched as his electric blue irises darted around your face, all the annoyance and rage he wore on his face melting into something resembling shock.

“Neither do you, so what’s your problem?” he asked lowly.

Another beat of silence overtook the space around you as you stepped back. You averted your gaze to somewhere else in the room. Niji continued to study you. You could feel his gaze.

“You know better than to pick fights here, Niji.” You shook your head, running a hand over your hair. But what seemed to mimic resignation didn’t last long as you whipped toward him to raise your voice again. “Now you’ve got me pissed when I thought tonight was going to be fun!”

“I wasn’t the one picking a fight, so you can take that to your boy toy,” Niji’s tone was simmering, deep, and level. His hands were shoved back into his pockets, and his shoulders appeared somewhat relaxed as he assumed his usual posture. A deep scowl was still present on his lips.

You huffed, backing off yourself.

“I’m done talking to you, Niji. Get out.” You turned on your heel and stormed back out into the backyard.

It was the worst fight you had ever gotten into. Hell, it might’ve been the only fight you and Niji had ever gotten into. After all, there had never been much to fight about before. The both of you tended to keep things light. He got to ramble about his petty and frivolous things, and you got to babble about yours. You hadn’t needed to go much deeper.

You were sexy and had more charisma in your pinky than anyone else Niji knew. You kept a drink in his hand. You knew the right spots on his undercut that he liked scratched, and it was something about getting attention from you that had him over the moon.

“How’s it feel being the favorite?” Yonji once asked him.

On the other hand, Niji wasn’t entirely sure why you had picked him out of everyone you knew, and you certainly knew everyone. You spent so much time and money throwing these parties— which you held regularly— yet you always carved out time to pay him some special attention. You always greeted him, gave him all the amenities he could ask for, and sat with him for the better part of the night just talking.

Niji knew of his more infamous reputation. He was nowhere as well-liked as you, and when it came to getting into trouble, Niji had paid his way out of sticky situations more times than he’d counted. He was satisfied with any excuse to throw a punch because when it came to people who mattered, who should he give a shit about anyone but his two brothers and his sister?

And then you came along. You came along with your talk— Niji made it abundantly clear the first night you met that the last thing he was interested in was talk (not when you looked like that, HELLO)— and now, for the first time, Niji worried.

“If you’re gonna be angsty and shit, can you do it somewhere else?”

Niji didn’t realize how far he had sunk into his couch cushion until Ichiji spoke. The ice in Niji’s glass had already melted.

Ichiji turned to him, one leg crossed over the other and a whisky in his hand. A neutral frown plastered across Ichiji’s lips.

“Weren’t you leaving?” he asked.

The couch Niji had found Ichiji sitting on was tucked away on the other side of the yard. A dormant firepit sat in the middle of the semi-circle seating, and the grill wasn’t too far away as a team of professional chefs made food. Seeing this seating area from the pool was difficult, but Niji could see you talking to Zoro again from where he sat.

Ichiji shifted, leaning a bit to the side as he regarded Niji.

“Why don’t you just apologize?"

“Because I didn’t do shit,” Niji snapped. But at the view of the dismayed and stern expression on Ichiji’s face, Nijij immediately simmered. “We got into a fight…”

Ichiji sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion behind him. Despite an equally close relationship with Yonji, at the end of the day, Niji was Ichiji’s ride-or-die. Ichiji wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill for his brother if it ever came to it, and if there were ever a day Niji showed up at his door with a trash bag and a shovel, Ichiji wouldn’t waste a second grabbing something to dig with from the garage.

However, this didn’t make Niji any less annoying. If there was anything Ichiji found more irritating than Niji yapping dreamily about you, it was undoubtedly him silently pining over you. Niji looked like a kicked puppy, for fuck’s sake. It was unbecoming.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over by tomorrow morning,” Ichiji said, returning to his whisky. “Go home, shower, order some flowers to be delivered, and make a reservation somewhere nice for tomorrow night. You’ll be fine.”

Niji immediately stood, and it was with a suddenness that communicated to Ichiji that Niji hadn’t absorbed a single thing he’d said. Ichiji’s back straightened as he sat at the edge of the couch cushion.

“Hey, what are you—”

Niji was already making his way over to you. You stood at the side of the pool, standing in a circle with Sanji, Zoro, and some other vaguely familiar faces that generally hung out with that crew. Zoro stood at your side, and Sanji at your other. The pool was directly behind you.

Niji stormed across the yard with purpose and confidence, and the group hardly had time to react to his presence as he cut right through the circle to get to you. It all happened so quickly that the words, “What the fuck, Niji?” didn’t even make it out of your mouth before Niji took your drink from your hand and shoved it at Zoro before hoisting you up to throw you into the pool.

Splash!

The shocked expressions didn’t melt into action fast enough as Niji turned, throwing up both middle fingers before smirking widely.

“Get fucked, Roronoa!” Niji proclaimed before falling backward into the pool where you were just beginning to resurface and gather yourself. The splash he made sent a wave over your head, further drenching your face and hair.

“Niji, you asshole!”

Even fully clothed, Niji made swimming the deep end of the pool look easy, quickly gathering you in his arms before paddling to the opposite side of the pool. The pool was as large as it was expensive, but Niji made short work of the distance, placing you on the ledge of seating that ran across the perimeter. The water lapped at the middle of your ribcage. Niji remained suspended in the deep end, folding his arms over your lap as he gazed up at you.

You raised your hand to slap him, but Niji caught your wrist, pinning it down to your lap as he crossed his arms again.

“Niji!”

“Tell me about shopping with Nami in Cocoyashi,” he hummed, a smug little smile on his lips. You hit the water with your other hand, splashing Niji across the face as he laughed. The stern frown on your lips didn’t falter.

“I thought I told you to get out.” Niji gathered both your hands in his, crossing them over each other to pin them down by his wrists on your lap.

“Well, I decided on more important things,” he said, cocking his head. You rolled your eyes, trying to move your hands. His grip on you was too firm but not enough to hurt. You continued to glare down at him.

“Oh yeah, like pissing me off—”

“I’ve decided that you’re no longer single.”

A solid pang reverberated in your chest. Your lips parted, agape in shock as Niji continued to smirk up at you. He released one of your hands, resting his cheek on his palm. The fingers of his opposite hand were still intertwined with yours.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. The feeling of his thumb swiping over the back of your hand wasn’t lost on you as a warm heat rose under your skin. “Something tells me that that’s something I need to consulted about, genius.”

“Hear me out,” Niji didn’t give you time to respond. You crossed your arms over your chest. “We see each other every weekend, drink, and chit chat… But what if I want to see you more than just every weekend?”

Niji stared up at you with a self-satisfied grin as you waited for him to elaborate.

“That’s it?” you asked. Niji nodded with a victorious hum. “That’s the speech you’re giving to win me over?”

“If you need it in more elementary terms, I like you, and you like me, so let’s do something about it.” He rotated his wrist to intertwine his fingers in yours fully. He continued to snicker, something about his own audacity amusing. You stared him straight on.

“You just wanna smash.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You noted his three-point glance as he looked you over before his gaze drifted to your fingers. He moved your hand as he talked, bringing it behind his head to his undercut. “But I’m not opposed to spoiling you a few times a week either just to call dibs. Buy all the blueberry pastries you want. Little numbers like this’ll be on me, and there’s more where that came from—” He tugged at your swimsuit. — “And I don’t know jack shit about wine, but I can probably pick out a nice one… or pay someone to do it for me.”

Niji was already beginning to run your nails through his hair before you pulled your hand away.

“I’ve got my own money.”

“I know you do, but I also know you’d do something nice with your hair if I gave you a couple hundred for it.” Niji’s grin only grew wider. “Or get yourself dinner somewhere expensive, designer clothes, whatever the fuck you wanna do.”

“And I’m not going to stop hanging out with Zoro either or Sanji just because… I don’t even know what’s going on there.” You scrunched your brow.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m perfectly fine calling dibs… at least for now.”

Niji left the spot between your knees to swim to the ledge beside you. He pulled himself up to sit, leaving the water in his wake feeling cold. You turned to him, water still dripping down strands of your hair.

“You can’t just throw me in a pool and expect to buy me, Niji. I’m still pissed at you.”

“Yeah, but now you have an excuse to change into whatever evening outfit you had planned.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, you found your voice stalled in your throat as Niji laughed. You did have a nice outfit planned. You always did. You pouted as Niji rose from the pool, dribbling water from his soaked clothes. He offered you a hand, which you reluctantly took.

“You’re gonna have to work hard as hell to make it up to me. I haven’t agreed to any relationship nonsense!”

Niji heaved you up with more force than necessary, catching you as you stumbled over the ledge and onto dry land. Your momentum worked against you, and in what seemed like an instant, Niji planted a kiss right on your lips. He held you for a moment, just long enough for the shock to sink in, before he pulled away with a grin.

Your mind went blank; the apparent look on your face made Niji laugh again.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get changed.” Niji’s arm snaked around you as he guided you back to the house. “Call it a trial run.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

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