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houseofhyde · 2 years ago

Text

i. a game of westerosi whispers.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. the five rumours about you that made the rounds amongst the court and the five times your uncle taught you to use them as a weapon. read part two here!

warnings. niece!reader, targcest, canon misogyny, mentions of infertility and starvation, attempted rape (not daemon), kinda manipulative behaviour from daemon ig, angst, fluff, smut (heavy petting, fingering, dry-humping). disclaimer!! reader + rhaenyra's age may not be accurate to the time of events but i don't feel comfortable writing about daemon going after a minor, so just roll with it.

word count. 5.5k

taglist. @nyctophilic0vitnir

hyde's input. i wrote this on a whim with no clue what the actual plot was gonna be other than the last sentence, so enjoy whatever this clusterfuck of words is. ngl, i felt a little iffy writing targcest but hey, at least it serves as a reminder that i’m 100% not into this shit irl. also, thank you so much for the reaction towards my first (and only other) daemon fic, dressed in white, i'm completely shocked at how many people actually read it and enjoyed it. you're all cute for giving it notes :(

bearing the targaryen name was as much a burden as it was a blessing.

while on one hand it came with dragons and power, on the other it came with prying eyes and hushed gossiping. it was a fact of life: as sure as the sun would rise come the morning, a targaryen’s name would be the centre of the capital’s gossip.

so, why on earth would you ever have believe yourself exempt from this rule, solely on the grounds that you were the second born daughter and not the apple of your father’s eye?

the first rumour was always the worst.

“i heard she threatened to feed herself to her dragon after the king named her sister as his heir.”

“no doubt that’s how she claimed inheritance over dragonstone!”

it hadn’t mattered that you’d never wanted, nor asked, for dragonstone, just the same as it didn’t matter that you’d happily cheered your elder sister’s future ascent to the dreaded iron throne. the ladies and lords who filtered through your father’s name-day feast had staked their claim over the truth, all so humoured by the thought of you, screaming like a small babe and stomping your foot like a spoilt brat, threatening your father with violence against yourself, that they failed to search for the source of such gossip, blindly believing it for the sake of a laugh and fuel to strike up a conversation within the great hall.

like wildfire, the rumour did spread.

lords whispered it into the ears of their dance partners, ladies who would then make their way back to their tables to share the news amongst those sat around it, all of whom would retire to their chambers and muse upon your supposed temper tantrum with their maids and knights, who’d filter out into the streets of king’s landing and spread the word like it were a plague, till even the rats in the sewers were aware of your untrue outburst.

by the next morning, you were branded the scorned princess.

“gossip is where truth goes to die.” he’d startled you out of your own self-pitying thoughts, back pressed up against the tree in the godswoods and book laying open across your knees, not a single page turned in what had to have been well over an hour.

“uncle,” clutching at your heart, your dizzied fright had blinded you to the way the man above you burned his eyes into what little he could see of your developing bosom. with the summer heat in full-swing, you’d taken to lowering the necklines of your dresses and the prince had taken to despising that you’d once dared to hide such a delectable sight beneath layers of clothing. “’tis not wise to sneak upon a woman armed.”

a charming smirk branded his face as you tugged the hem of your dress half-way up your leg, shamelessly letting him gaze upon your supple skin and the dagger sheathed in it’s own miniature scabbard against your calf.

a gift, on the name day in which you had turned ten and seven, from the very man who casted a shadow over you now. (”you told me you wanted a piece of old valyria, little dove. so there you go, your very own valyrian steel.”)

“just the same as it ‘tis not wise to sulk in public spaces, niece.”

“i was not sulking!” the book snapped shut as you rose to a stand, defensive in the way you held it pressed to your chest. his jaw clenched, what little morals he owned swallowing down whatever undesirable comment he had for you newly covered breasts.

his attention redirected itself to your mouth, lips red from the way you'd shamelessly gnawed upon them through all your distressing thoughts, the bottom one jutting out against your own consciousness.

“my brother’s new born babe aegon pouts less than you.” daemon mused, hand reaching out to swipe his thumb over your puckered petal, teasing himself with what they’d feel like pressed against his own. “if your concern is the whispers, ignore them. the cunts in your father’s court mean only to make themselves believe you are lesser than them. they’ll tire by the morrow and move on to someone else in our house to discuss, nyke kivio ao bisa.” i promise you this.

daemon was glad you’d never read into his words too much that day, least he’d have to admit to feigning a drunken state and causing a scene in a brothel that very night just to get your name out of their mouths.

the second time you found your name floating the keep’s halls was a few years after the first.

“they say the princess scarcely bleeds. barren, that’s what the grand maester called her.”

“regardless, she lacks the shape of a proper woman. i’ve seen men with hips more apt for childbearing than her’s.”

once more, no one took notice of the times your handmaidens had stripped your bed clean of bloodied sheets, nor did they pay mind to the fact you’d rushed out your father’s wedding to alicent hightower, dress sporting a bloodied stain and eyes filled with tears of embarrassment.

the scorned princess being also the barren princess? it made for a better story than the truth: a combination of stress induced starvation and lack of sleep had lead to an irregularity with your moon’s blood.

the room around you had long ago emptied itself of guests, those who remained behind either too drunk to make it out of their seats or in too high a spirit to retire to bed.

you were one of the former, head resting against your crossed arms which had found purchase on the table. never having been fond of drinking, it had only taken a few cups of dornish wine to render you inebriated, and thus your pity party had began, lamenting your own withering reputation to whichever poor, unfortunate family member had been a great enough fool to sit themselves next to you.

“father thinks me ruined, hic,” your sentence paused to make space for your drunken hiccups, which served to cover up the little sobs your body shook out. “i heard him speaking to the hand about how he’ll never, hic, find someone to marry a, hic, princess who can not, hic, give any heirs. ziry emagon daor gīda eptan issa, hic, lo ziry iksos drēje!” he has not even asked me, hic, if it is true.

“ao gīmigon skoros ao jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon, byka dove?” you know what you need to do, little dove?

you shot up straight, no longer caring that your face was stained in tears, mind too busy wondering why daemon had been sat next to you and was not off with some whore, indulging in a victory fuck to mark the end of the celebrations for his return as king of the stepstones.

you voiced your curiosity, hand instinctively curling around his own as he reached out for you, the scraping of his chair ringing in your ears when he inched himself closer.

“can i not want to spend time with my niece?”

“yes but we, hic, already broke our fast together this morning.”

“and yet i never managed to speak with you, your father was too busy with his gloats on my return.” he spoke no word of lie, the king had been an unstoppable force of laughter and joy ever since daemon had given him his crown and the crabfeeder’s sword. a part of you had been endeared, watching how he reminisced on his and his brother’s younger days, filling daemon’s cup with wine every time it had emptied, a smile on his face like no other you’d seen since the passing of your mother. “now, you’ve yet to answer my question.”

“your, hic, question?”

“you make for an endearing drunk, little dove.” giving your hand a gentle squeeze, there was nowhere for you to hide from the fondness in his eyes as he brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips, brushing them over the expanse of your knuckles. a chill ran down your spine and a fire lit within your loins. “my question was regarding those who speak on your fertility, or supposed lack thereof. do you know how you must handle this?”

“if i did, do you believe i’d have, hic, made myself so familiar with the wine this evening?”

the prince laughed, you smiled. something sinful flowed through your veins as you took note of his posture, how his whole body was pointed towards you, how his back hunched over enough for him to lean down and level his eyes with yours, how he didn’t seem to take notice- or, if he did, didn’t seem to care- of the remaining guests stares being glued to you both, analysing each detail of your interaction.

“and here i thought you’d turned to drinking to cope with the absence of your favourite relative in these past years.”

“i accepted corlys', hic, absence years ago, kepus.”

“just for that,” he pushed his chair back, hand dropping your own as he stood and straightened out his wrinkled clothing. “i shan’t be telling you what to do about these rumours.”

before he could walk away from you, your hand shot out and grasped at his wrist, foolishly believing you carried the physical strength to hold him in place.

“no!” you were certain everyone who remained in the hall had heard your panicked exclamation, but it mattered little as the desperation to have him near, to have him guide you, to have him tell you how to make everything better took over your sanity. “please, i only, hic, jest! tell me what to do.”

for what felt like an eternity, and was only a mere few seconds, daemon stared down at you, blank in the face. his eyes narrowed in on the tear tracks down your cheeks, and an unspoken- and impossible- vow was made in that instant: he’d pay any price to ensure you’d never cry again.

“what you need to do, niece,” he leaned down, till his lips were near pressed against your ear, ghosting over it with his hot breath and the faintest brush of his moving mouth. “is make sure your future husband fucks you so full of his seed that no one dares question your capability of carrying on the targaryen lineage.”

there still remained plenty a drunken fools and dancing buffoons by the time you decided to retire for the evening, yet you payed no mind to their wandering eyes as you let daemon guide you out the hall and escort you back to your chambers.

you’d awoken the next morning to an aching head and a burning cheek, unsure of whether daemon had pressed his lips against it before bidding you goodnight or if that was but a drunken dream.

the third rumour came not shortly after.

“did you hear about the princess and ser criston? apparently she’s requested he train her in combat.”

“the only combat she wants is within his bed.”

no one cared to enquire on the truth of why a young princess would request to be trained in the arts of the sword, just the same as no one cared to address the fear you’d been left with after an attack on your life within your own chambers, when a knight, angered with his dismissal from the city watch after breaking his vows of chastity, had decided to seek revenge on the king on a personal level, a fatherly level: stripping his daughter of her purity.

your night dress was nothing but torn rags and his breeches were halfway down his legs by the time ser criston had burst into the room.

and though he may have failed at stealing your virtue, he’d succeeded in stealing your safety.

the first few nights, you found no comfort in your own bed, seeking out your elder sister and crying into her welcoming arms till your body grew tired from the sobs and your eyes had dried up. your return to your own chambers had been under certain conditions, your father unwilling to risk putting you in harm’s way again, and thus a collective of knights stood post outside your door at all hours of the day.

none of it made any difference when you fell asleep, however, your slumbering mind taking to bombarding you with nightmares of sweaty palms on your skin and the putrid smell of the knight’s breath as he forced himself atop your helpless body.

when you’d asked ser criston to educate you in manning a sword, he’d taken no interest in asking for a reason, understanding what had been ailing you without you having to relive it through verbalising it.

he was surprisingly patient with his teaching, not caring for the number of times he’d need to repeat himself, nor the plethora of time you’d struck him in the face with the wooden training sword he’d bestowed you with.

but ser criston did not go easier on you, did not lessen the blows he’d deliver your way on account of you being smaller, frailer, nor for the simple fact that you were the princess. he pushed your face into mud, he bruised your skin with his blows, he worked you till you were short of breath and drenched in sweat. all in all, you’d believed him to be a great teacher. perfect, even.

until you found yourself disarmed, a boot digging into your shoulder to keep your back pinned to the ground below and the end of a sword barely gracing the skin of your neck.

“ziry kostagon daor hīlagon nykeēdar gīda lo ziry ropatas hen hen nykeā lōgor.” he could not hit water even if he fell out of a boat.

the heel of daemon’s boot dug further into your shoulder, unknowingly grinding into a bruise you’d earned two days prior, a fair price you’d payed to at last disarm ser criston for the first time.

the man above you glared down in your direction as a series of giggles erupted from your chest, the man already irritated from hearing how you’d taken to training with the cunt in shiny armor.

“ziry kostagon’t sagon sīr quba, lo ziry pyghagon ao isse se tourney.” he can’t be so bad, if he beat you in the tourney.

“urnēbagon ziry, byka dove, ao kostagon find aōla zālagon lo ao tymagon rūsīr perzys.” watch it, little dove, you may find yourself burnt if you play with fire. as if to punctuate his threat, he pushed the edge of dark sister harder against your skin and you felt the unmistakable sting of skin prying itself apart under the sharp pressure. the faintest line of red trickled down the back of your neck, staining your skin and straining daemon’s breeches, much to your own unawareness.

“īlon’re zaldrīzoti, keepus. perzys kostagon daor ōdrikagon īlva, mērī excite īlva.” we’re dragons, uncle. fire can not harm us, only excite us.

the next few moments passed in silence, save for the occasional screech of a bird or the rustling of leaves in the wind. and all the while he was gazing down at you, eyes hooded and chest heavy with each breath. he was contemplating something and you longed to know what.

it went far beyond a longing to know, you wanted to be in his mind, wanted to split his skull in two and burrow yourself in whatever space he may have left for you, taking up as much of his mind as you physically could.

meanwhile, he thanked any god who may exist that you had no insight into his maddening thoughts, safe to imagine you laid out atop his bed and with his hand around your throat rather than the blade of his sword, every rise and fall of your chest punctuating another delicate whine for him to swallow with his own deranged grunts.

only after he’d sheathed dark sister once more did he speak.

“i will inform ser crispin of his dismissal from training you.” it was not a request but, rather, an order. the kind of thing you’d typically quarrel with your father over, yet with daemon you were too busy melting into a puddle under the warmth of his stern tone to care.

“and why,” as he interrupted your own efforts to stand, hand grasping your arm and swiftly pulling you to your feet like you weighed no more than a bird’s feather, you lost your footing, sending you barreling against his solid chest. he stood taller this way, your head having to tilt further back to hold contact with his eyes. “would you be doing that, uncle?”

“because you’ve no need for two swordsmen to train you. it’ll only lead to conflict in training methods.”

“how so?”

“ser crispin is a technical man, commanding the style in which you move and the strategies you must implore to predict his next blow.” his face inched lower, closer to yours and invaded your space in a way only he could. “my training is more... hands-on.”

the fourth rumour was the one you cared the least to disprove.

“i suppose it is only expected that she follow in her family’s tradition.”

“still, i do find it odd how she can lust after her own kin, her uncle! i guess not even the rogue prince’s niece is blind to his charm.”

perhaps the spiders around you were finally beginning to use their countless eyes, staring the truth in it’s face and choosing to spin their web of lies around it, a step forward from their usual habit of spinning straw into gold and staking barbarian claims against your honour.

if they were going to talk, least it be with some truth.

because while no, you had not begged daemon to bed you like the ladies claimed, nor had you followed him out of the castle and spied on his depraved actions in fleabottom as the lords had said, you certainly could not deny there was something going on.

from touches that lingered on the training grounds, your hands clinging onto him long after he’d pulled you back to your feet and his hands remaining on your cheek long after he’d whipped away the traces of dirt.

to public interactions deemed far too intimate for an uncle and his niece, even for the house of dragons. countless feasts passing where neither one of you were keen to take your eyes off each other, whether your bodies were pressed right up against one another in a dance or a sea of people stood between you both on opposite ends of the hall.

two tourneys, one for prince aegon’s first name-day and another for the upcoming marriage between rhaenyra and your cousin, laenor velaryon, and in each the events had played out the same: daemon would stride in on his steed, dressed in the most ridiculous armor one could find, and request your favour, boldly and unabashedly before every gossiping housewife and envious lord, only to defeat his opponents and ruffle some more feathers when declaring you as the queen of love and beauty.

which lead up to this moment in the throne room, the king looming large over both of you from the pile of swords despite his visibly worsened health, anger decorating his features as he spied the wreath of flowers upon your head, still present hours after the rogue prince had crowned you for the second time.

the first time, he’d overlooked it, laughed it off.

the second time, he’d felt his blood boil, shoved his second wife’s hands off him as she whispered in his ear of how his brother meant to ruin his daughter in the eyes of potential suitors.

if the king were half as smart as he was kind, he would have seen the truth in queen alicent’s worries.

“please, father, don’t be so ridiculous! daemon has merely been training me.” you had the nerve to smile at him after he lay the allegations of your indecent meetings at both your feet, trampling them under your pretty words as though they were far too implausible to even entertain with anger.

“i thought ser criston was aiding you with your sword skills.” your father replied, his full-fingered hand curling over the edge of his armrest and supporting his weight as he leaned forward, as though to get a closer look at you.

“there was a conflict of interest.” daemon answered in your place, to which viserys scoffed and kept his eyes on his daughter.

“how so?”

“his methods, i did not find myself... responding as well as i do to daemon’s.” it was only a half-lie, for while you would still argue that ser criston was just as skilled with a sword as daemon, there was no competition when it came to who could hold your focus. in ser criston’s lessons, you’d counted down the minutes till you were free to rest, while with daemon you would often implore him to skip whatever small council meeting required his presence and remain with you on the field. “i have grown good enough to disarm him, though my uncle denies it happening.”

“‘tis my niece who negates the truth of how the rain that soaked us both lead to my sword slipping from my grasp.” the king watched, disgruntled, as daemon spoke towards you, holding you captive in his gaze in a way that was dangerously easy, a power the monarch could recall his beloved first wife held over him. “what she showed was an act of luck, not good swordsmanship.”

when neither three of the targaryens spoke, the echoes of celebrations within the gardens began to travel through the air, as if to mock the king, reminding him that he should be out there celebrating the union of not only his daughter but the realm’s alliance with the lord of the tides becoming stronger than ever, instead of trapped within the seat that brought him nothing but gripe and before his two political headaches- his brother the original, and his daughter the most recent.

the king heaved a sigh.

“very well, you’re dimissed.” he waved what remained of his hand, the stump where fingers once lived a sickening reminder of how his body was slowly falling apart. with a nod and a curtsy, you both made to leave the king’s presence, only for his voice to ring out once more. “not you, daemon. you and i need to discuss something.”

with you bidding them both goodbye, dress trailing behind you as daemon allowed himself to glance back just once, the doors slammed shut and trapped the two bother’s within.

viserys pulled himself off the throne, hardly feeling as a blade sliced through his decaying palm. while the king grew closer, daemon grew bolder, traveling up the steps and meeting his brother midway.

perhaps an act of kindness, to spare him the trouble of exhausting himself.

more likely a show of disregard, to remind him that he wasn’t one of the puny the lords who sat within the small council, ready to be pushed and pulled in whatever direction the king sent them.

“pray tell, brother.” the younger doned a smile and clasped his hands behind his back. “what is it we need to discuss?”

“my daughter.”

“i’m fairly certain it’s rude to discuss a lady when she is not pres-”

daemon was cut short, words dying as a sense of shock took over him upon viserys’ hands clasping the collar of his doublet.

“if i so much as hear of you putting your hands on my daughter without her permission, i’ll-”

“kill me? have me sent to the wall? turn me into a eunuch?” all sounded like awful outcomes, yet the prince wondered if getting his hands on you, even if it was just once, would make it all worth it. he decided not, for he was certain he would find no antidote to the poison of tasting you other than to taste you again and again and again, till his blood ran dry and his skin melted off his bones. “and if she permits me to? what if she is the one to put her hands on me?”

“then i will see to it that you both perform your duties as servants to the crown and have your affairs in order under the eyes of the seven.” he spoke like a king, distant and unfeeling, a man who’s only job was to lead the realm.

and so daemon graced him with an answer fit for a king.

“are you saying what i believe you to be, your grace?”

“yes. i’m saying i would wed you to her.”

the fifth rumour is when you decide enough was enough, the time had come to use their own love of gossip against them.

“the king’s expected to announce her search for a suitor soon.”

“i do pray for her future husband, whoever he may be. it’s doubtful he’ll find any joy married to such an ungrateful, infertile harlequin.”

every step you took that evening was calculated.

from the seat you sat at the royal table, trading your usual post beside rhaenyra for one next to daemon, to the number of lords you entertained with a dance and a laugh, three to be exact: one of them your soon-to-be brother by law laenor velaryon, another the son of the hand, ser harwin strong, a fierce knight and the object of your sister’s desires, and, lastly, cregan stark.

the stark was by far your father’s most favoured suitor when it came to your hand, anyone with a pair of working eyes could see. where his first born’s marriage had secured the relationship between the crown and the sea, his second daughter's would secure that of the capital and the cold, unfeeling north.

only, your father had made one fatal flaw in his game of chess: he’d mistaken you for a pawn, when in truth you were a rook, unwilling to be moved so easily.

betrayal was your initial reaction to the news of your father’s meeting with the starks, an encounter he had not even the good graces to include you in.

your second reaction was defiance.

and, so, you laughed with the stark lord, you let him refill your goblet as he spoke tales of his travels south to the capital, you danced with him before the entire court and stepped on his toes enough times till he politely dismissed himself, claiming he was in need of relieving his bladder before he left you in the centre of the dancing pairs.

just in time for him to swoop in.

“ao jāhor mazverdagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys, byka dove.” daemon wrapped you in both the safety of his arms and the use of your ancestral language, guiding you into the next dance. you will make a fine wife, little dove

“nyke pendagon lo issa valzȳrys jāhor agree rūsīr ao.” i wonder if my husband will agree with you.

matching the other couples, daemon commanded you to spin in his grasp, hands firm as one held onto yours and the other made repeated contact with your waist, spinning you faster and faster, till you tumbled over your own feet and had nowhere to turn to but his strong, dependable hold, hands splaying out on his chest as his own found rest upon your lower back.

even that was not enough for the man, who squeezed you closer to his own bod.

“you’re tired, niece.” the swirling pairs around you turned their heads at his voice, exaggerated in it’s volume as he at last addressed you in a way they understand.

“so very tired, uncle.”

“then i shall escort you to your chambers. the dark hallways of the keep are no place for such a defenceless lady.”

the weight of your father’s stare followed you out of the banquet halls, lungs only refilling with air when you round the corner that leads upwards, the steps to your own chambers lit with torches and manned by several guards who stood guard at your door.

the same guards who payed no mind to how you welcomed your uncle into your chambers.

the same guards who likely felt against their back the vibration of your own body slamming against the shut door.

daemon was a force to be reckoned with, hands coming down to cage you against the wooden surface and render you defenceless to the incoming attack against your mouth.

there was no patience in the way he kissed you, mimicking a man starved for weeks who’s at last been handed a morsel of bread. neither was there gentleness, lips moving with yours in a frenzy of clashing teeth and knocking noses. it was nothing like the books you’ve read, where a pretty princess at last convinces the honourable knight to kiss her, pulling back immediately to stare in bewilderment.

nor was it how rhaenyra had explained kisses to be: boring, unexciting, a waste of time.

daemon licked his tongue into your sweet mouth, chest shaking under your palms at the satisfied groan he released. you caught up with his pace, lips finally moving to the rhythm he’d set, no longer being lead but rather fighting to lead him in the dance of your mouths.

when he pulled away, the hunger in his eyes could only be levelled by that of his dragon’s as it flew into battle, thirsty to burn everything beneath it.

“ao issi tolmiot tolī gevie naejot sagon jurnegēre rȳ issa raqagon bona.” his voice lulled you out of your trance, confused, even if just for a moment, as he spoke to you in your blood’s tongue, instead of one the guards outside your door would understand. it dawned on you slowly that he spoke only for you in that instant. you are far too beautiful to be looking at me like that.

“raqagon skoros?” like what?

“raqagon nyke mazverdagon ao biare.” like i make you happy.

the prince wasted no time in stripping you bare, knowing he’d lose the ounce of little control he had left if he were to gaze upon your heaving breasts and your glistening cunt.

he settled for sneaking his hand under the layers of your skirt till he found his holy grail.

“you’re soaked, little dove.” he spoke in pure awe, as though he hadn’t lay with a thousand whores and tasted every kind of woman the realm had to offer.

daemon was no stranger to maidens nor the feeling of touching them, yet none had ever welcomed him in as much as you, no fear in your darkened gaze as you spread your legs further apart while the middle finger stroked over your velvet lips which dripped with honey and ached to suck his digit in between them.

it was as though you were made for him alone, body trained to take anything he’d offer, and he tells you so as he made contact with your aching bud, calming the buzzing nerves with slow strokes.

“is that nice, niece?” you nodded your head and were met with a disapproving look, quickly correcting yourself with a loud moan. “is kepus making your little cunt wet?”

“yes!”

he rewarded your precious reply with the breeching of your hole, his finger forcing it’s ways into your tight walls as he released his own noises of satisfaction.

the descent into madness was swift from then onwards, with daemon knowing only the feeling of your sticky walls clamping down on him as your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell slack would be enough to sedate him. one finger became two and he watched you mold yourself into the perfect little whore for him, unabashed to call out his name and beg for more.

“have you touched yourself before?” his breath was haggard, as if he was the one having his insides toyed with by you, chasing his inevitable peak with wanton groans and sporadic kisses to your throat, collarbones, chest. “or are mine the first hands to touch this precious cunt?”

when you hit your crescendo, it was with shaking limbs and desperate cries, hands having found home in the tresses of his hair, pulling on their roots as he kissed over your chest, fingers continuing their repeated assault on your entrance till your essence dripped down to his elbows and you shook your head in protest to his touch, his pretty baby too sensitive from her first peak.

he let his resolve slip moments after bringing his soaked fingers up to his mouth, the taste of you sending him to all seven hells and back for all the things he longed to do to you. arms caging around your frame, he lay his forehead to rest against yours as his hardness began to grind against your waist.

“just wait, my little dove.” even as he put on a show, he was mindful to sweet talk you with the names he called you, aware you were not ready yet for all the things he longed to call you, preferably as you lay face down in his sheets, your sweet flower on full display and ripe with honey for his taking. “wait till i paint your insides with my seed, filling your little womb up till it swells with my babe.”

much to his own preference, daemon shortly spilled within his breeches, soiling his clothing in an uncomfortable manner he'd need to clean up later.

in all his years he’s never fought as hard a battle as the one to lead you to bed, all the while you begged in your mother tongue for him to take you, for real this time, to fill you with his cock even after the sun had risen and the royal guards stormed your room demanding answers for the king.

as he finally parted ways with you, this time for sure pressing his lips to your cheek, daemon nodded curtly at your guards who refused to meet his eyes and he swallowed down his amusement, the walk back to his own chambers filled with only one topic: how long till the news reached the king's ears.

after all, the ladies of the court never were good at whispering.

#daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen imagine

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astolfofo · 1 year ago

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Notes: Slight lapse in judgement moment. (Please comment or reblog with something because I actually dedicated time for this one. I am humbly begging.)

Tw: non-con, gunplay, slight blood play, abusive behaviour, mentions of murder, yandere.

Tagging @yandere-romanticaa on this one, thank you for being the enabler to this (jokingly)

Also on a side note, if you want to listen to something when listening to this, it was inspired by sex with a ghost by teddy hyde, and bo en- pale machine (entire album)

Word count: 4.4K

Dazai had never quite sunken this low before.

He lays down onto the bed, with the gun clattering to the ground. He disregards it as he throws it to the floor, watching it slide across the room. It was useless now, anyways. There were no bullets inside, and it was quite the outdated model, that would be useless against anyone with even the slightest of strength.

All that’s left now is an overwhelming shame. An overwhelming shame that he touched himself, using that weapon for several previous hours, as a means to relieve himself. He feels so disgusted in himself again, as he looks at the rifle, which was now covered in a mixture of his own sweat and cum. It was so disgusting to look at, almost as evidence as to how much he had become a slave to his own desires. Almost as if he was succumbing to some kind of poision that plagued his mind on the daily.

And it didn’t even feel good, he thought to himself. I merely relieved myself enough to clear my mind, if even that.

Dazai looks around the room again. There’s nothing to see, and nothing to feel other than a sick sense of shame. A sense of shame that he decided to touch himself with a gun, while thinking of you. He wasn’t really thinking when he did that, he kind of just did it on impulse, without previous judgement. Yet as Dazai’s eyes dart back to the gun, and his mind drifts to other places. He pictures you cum, and sweat, with a mixture of yours and his cum dripping out of your hole. Your neck is covered with hickeys and bite marks and bruises running down your body. You’re panting, and slightly whimpering from pain, yet you also know he’s the only one who is able to fuck you this good.

He looks down at his cock, which is yet again, hard. He ignores it this time, not wanting to deal with his own arousal, instead choosing to lament over the fact that you were long gone from his life.

But still, he longs for your presence. A person long gone from his life. He longs for you to come back, but you never will.

Dazai shakes his head out of those thoughts, hoping to temporarily think about something else, anything at all that will make prison even slightly more bearable. He looks at the ceiling observing the fluorescent lights, and the solid white ceiling, which reminds him of the situation he’s currently in. Once again, he’s painfully reminded of why he was here. A detainment for ability users, built so they could stay here until they would eventually rot and die. There wasn’t any more to it than that.

He turns on the side again. He doesn’t want to think about that right now, either.

As he lays there, he’s painfully reminded how it’s been two years since you had broken up with him. Not that he was able to keep track of time in prision, but if he were to logically deduce the amount of times he had waken up and fallen asleep, it was about two years since you had broken up with him.

Yet the ghost of your presence haunts him constantly. Even after two years, Dazai had still not gotten over the breakup. No matter how badly he wanted to, he would always come back thinking of you. That you were still there, with him, and not somewhere else. That you still lived with him, that you never ran away from Yokohama, and that he never kidnapped and held you captive. He wanted to imagine that you’d be sitting at home, waiting, wondering where he was, instead of hopping on the nearest train, running away from him.

That you were the same person as who he met you first as, that somewhere at the back of your mind, you still thought of him, at least just a little.

However, he knew all of that was false. You were probably living a normal life again, back in your hometown, maybe with someone else you thought was better for you. Maybe by now, you had recovered from all the injuries he had gaven you over the years, maybe had gone back to the initial person you were, an individual he found so intriguing and rare, that he unwillingly fell for.

He was happy for you, if you were. As happy as he could be, if not exceptionally bitter.

He closes his eyes and imagines you again, how you would look right now, smiling and with some… other guy. It’s not a pleasant feeling imagining you with someone else. Jealousy, envy, and a eerie sort of anger arise in him. No… it’s not anger, he’s not sure what it was. It was closer to an urge to take you away from him, for whatever unknown reason.

Still, you had long ago let go of him, but he’d never let go of you. You had never loved him, but he’d needed you more than man needs air to live. He pictures the scene again, and that possessive feeling comes back again. It felt almost as if the air was being knocked out of his lungs the longer he looked at you and the man together.

You plagued his mind constantly, to the point where Dazai was willing to relieve the pain by almost killing himself with the rifle earlier. Still however, Dazai recognized he needed you as man needs air to live.

Yet he felt rooted in the ground, as his mind went blank again. He felt as if he was fighting a primal urge. He felt as if he was struggling in a room devoid of air, as the helplessness begins to settle down. But he won’t give up, he’ll fight until the very last second to stay alive. All he needs is for that man to be gone. Witnessing so… happy with another man made it feel like every breath he took was poision, and every step he took feel like stabbing his foot. He doesn’t want to see this again.

His vision goes blurry, and then black.

Dazai’s now walking down a dark alleyway. He’s not sure where it is, or how he got there, but he feels as if he’s stuck here now. There’s no sense of urgency, rather, a small, creeping sense of paranoia of why or how he’s here. The alleyway feels endless as if he was trying to escape a large maze. He can’t see to the other end of the alleyway, instead, constantly running into dead ends.

He wonders where he is. Was this another dream of some type? He can’t say for sure, it feels too surreal to be reality. But whatever it was, he felt like he was supposed to find something. There was something else in the maze… that was more important than a way out.

You.

At that exact moment, he hears footsteps. He turns around to see you walking in a different direction, at the entrance of the dead end he currently stands in. You’re calm, you look the same as you always did. And he’ll chase after you this time.

Dazai walks as quietly as he could, following you, to wherever you plan on going. You make several turns; one right and three lefts, before you stop at a door. A door that would likely lead you elsewhere, away from him. To somewhere you wanted to go, or needed to go. But that wasn’t the concern. If he let you go through the door, you’d be gone again. Gone forever.

And he’d lose you again. He can’t lose you again.

“Leaving so soon (Y/N)?”

You look at him. You finally turn around and look at him. He can’t tell the exact emotion of your facial expression, but he takes it with relish either way. Your eyes are wide, contorted with fear, yet anger, with some kind of underlying urgency. A urgency to run. Escape the situation.

But Dazai’s faster than you are. As you try to push open the door, Dazai manages to grab onto your arm and push you back first. You gasp for a quick second, and then regain your composure again, glaring daggers into his eyes.

“Let… Let me go you fucking bastard.”

Dazai smirks, “No.”

As on instinct, your breathing becomes shallow and rapid, as your face fills with dread and anxiety. You’re fighting against his grip, trying to break free from the position Dazai has you in, with your arms pinned against the wall, and his knee in between your thighs, keeping you in place. Dazai, on instinct, grips you by the arms tighter, until you feel like there’s no blood going into your hands.

“You were going to leave, weren’t you?” He mutters. “You were going to leave me alone here, and escape. You know I was going to find you either way, right?”

You open your mouth to protest at him, to tell him to fuck off, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Your jaw feels glued shut, it feels paralyzed.

“You can never truly escape from me, no matter how hard you try to forget the days I held you captive. No matter what, you’ll meet me again in some way, some shape, or some form,” he continues. “You should just accept that.”

Your heart is racing. You want to speak, you want to scream, but your brain doesn’t seem to be able to command your body to do these things. You’re struggling. Your hands are still shaking, trying to break free of his grip. You’re doing everything you can just to not give out on the spot, because you know, that Dazai will take you away if you do that. But you can’t win against him either. Not like this.

Your jaw trembles, as you attempt to call for help, scream, see if anyone is there. But Dazai is faster than you. He covers your mouth and you make out a muffled sound instead. “Shh.. don’t scream. There’s no one here to help you anyways.”

His voice sounds so gentle, so soft, it sounds loving, and genuine, if only you didn’t know what he had done to you at all. Dazai was always good at this, you could never say no to him, he always knew how to make your irrational heart win against your logical brain. Even though you could deny it to yourself all you wanted… if Dazai wasn’t so… cruel to you, you would have fallen for him several times over. But he wasn’t.

He was a monster. A monster with a luring personality, and a luring face, waiting for you to fall. Waiting for you to fall so he can posses you wholly. And you would have never known otherwise, until truly understood who and what he was.

“Just let me have my way with you, just this once, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer. It wasn’t like he was going to listen whether you said yes or no, anyways. No matter what your answer was, he was going to continue with his actions.

And so, he kissed you. As always, they start off so gentle, so tender, that you could believe it was true. That he wasn’t going to be rough with you later on. His sweet demeanor could only last so long before he lost control of himself.

So you were right. Within moments of your lips touching, his kissing instantly became more desprate, as if his life depended on it. Soon, you begin trying to pull back to breathe, but Dazai won’t let you. He’s waited two years, he’s not going to wait any longer.

So you try to breathe through your nose with as much oxygen as you can get. Dazai doesn’t stop, he’s trying to engrain the taste of your mouth inside his brain, he’s trying to make this last forever. It’s what he truly wants.

And so the gentleness that masks him as human is gone now. He’s doesn’t care if you’re struggling to breathe, or if this is all wrong, that he should let you have your own free will. He’s acting as a man who has not seen oxygen in years. A man that has been rejuvenated back into life by your presence.

And so his actions, initially kissing, have now turned into an action so rough, that it was making your mouth bleed slightly. And he doesn’t stop. The blood gets smeared over both your mouths, the taste of the iron stinging your tongue, and the back of your throat. It gets into his mouth too, and smears over both your lips, almost like a lipstick.

And only when it’s like that, does he stop. But you know this is far from done. You know what happens next and you don’t want it to happen. You inhale through your mouth, trying the best to ignore that your mouth is bleeding. You chest heaves up and down, while Dazai watches, wiping the blood off your blood off his mouth, and tasting it.

It’s addictive. It tastes so sweet to him.

Dazai then grips your chin with his index finger and thumb, while running his thumb over your lips. It’s supposed to be an intimate gesture, maybe a slightly romantic one, but you flinched either way.

You had always reacted this way to Dazai’s touch. No matter how many times he touched you, it always felt foreign to you. None of his actions felt they were done purely as of itself. They always led onto to something, often meant to confuse you. You hated it. You couldn’t what he wanted to do when he did certain actions and you always got the feeling he was playing with you for the fun of it, and that was most likely the case, most of the time.

Dazai smears the blood on your face and admires you.

Your face is visibily red, from the aggressive makeout session,, and your hair is discheveled, covering fractions of your face. Dazai brushes those strands away, as he looks at you. In return, you glare at him, feeling slightly grossed out, but in no position to protest. He then lets go of your arms, letting you fall slack against the wall for a second, and the realization hits again. Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you feel the urge to run, again.

Before you can make a move, you’re held in place again, by Dazai’s knee, which held you securely to the wall. You watch in terror as he takes off his coat and tosses it aside, discarded on the floor. No words are exchanged between the two of you, as you stare at him. Dazai moves his hands towards your chest, and starts unbuttoning your shirt as well.

“D-dazai… please stop…” you mutter.

Dazai puts a finger over your lips. “Just relax, and try to enjoy it, okay? I’ll make sure you feel good, and that you’ll never forget this time.”

“N-no that’s not what I mean. I don’t… I don’t want to do this…please…”

“It’s okay, darling. You know you want this, either way.”

The very air around you and Dazai seemed to be suffocating in a way you couldn’t quite say. It was tense, almost like an elastic band pulled to the very limit of what it could do, awaiting to snap at any moment.

And you were angry. Angry at Dazai that he wanted to do this. Angry at yourself for being caught by him. You felt an indescribable rage inside of you for what he had done to you over the years. Yet everytime, he still says he loves you.

Dazai would never let you go.

No matter where you went, he’d always find a way to get you back. You’re the only thing that he has left. The only thing that he truly wants to live for.

But you didn’t want to accept that for yourself. In fact, you couldn’t care less why the stupid bastard was so obsessed with you, to the point where you got sucked into this dream. You use the free hand, and slap Dazai in the face. It catches him off-guard enough for you to run back towards the door and open it. It creaks open, only for his hand to cover your mouth again, pushing you back against the wall, and keeping you in place.

“You’re not leaving.” Dazai snarls into your ear. “Try all you want, but I’m not letting you go.”

You claw at his hand, trying to pry it off.

“Maybe I should fuck you stupid enough, so you never think of doing that again, hm?”

You gaze at him in horror this time, while his hands travel back to your shirt and unbutton it completely this time, letting it fall to the floor. You wince slightly, due to how cold it is in the alleyway. Dazai then moves to your pants and begins unzipping them, and pulling them down to your ankles.

You once again, slightly recoil in disgust of his actions, but in no position to protest or escape. Now, you’re almost naked, left to the mercy of Dazai to do what he likes with you.

Tears sting your eyes. The, what felt like, slow torture of this entire situation felt painful.

Finally, Dazai takes off his pants. He’s painfully hard, and you cringe in disgust about how your fighting, struggling, and even crying aroused him so much.

Dazai moves his hands behind your back, unhooking your bra, and then he moves to your underwear. The last barrier separating you and him. He takes it off, noticing how wet it really is, and then tossing it aside too.

“My, my, (Y/N). You were that wet from just kissing? I thought you didn’t want this at all.”

“I-I don’t.”

“But your body does. You may deny it all you want, but your body yearns for me. You’ve been leaning into my touch ever since we met. Sure, you’re disgusted in what I’m doing, but do you want to know what your body thinks?”

A pure look of anger which slowly changes into fear fills your face. Dazai leans into the crook of your neck.

“It’s nice to be held be Dazai, isn’t it? You can’t change biological desire. And I think… you know I understand that better than anyone.”

And so, Dazai turns you onto your back, and pushes his entire cock inside of you. You hiss from the sudden intrusion that felt all to familiar and foreign at the same time.

And it reminds you of how painfully well he knows you, yet how little you know him.

And you feel his hands grab onto your hips, and he begins bouncing you up and down on his length, never failing to hit that place inside of you that sent sparks of pleasure up your body.

And he wasn’t being gentle this time, too. If he had been going any faster than he already was, you were sure it would have hurt more than brought pleasure to you.

And he repeats these actions, over, and over. It’s always been that way. Yet your mind felt like it was still melting from the actions. You can’t help it. You can’t help yourself. It feels so good, and you know only Dazai can do this to you.

You almost have to bite back on moaning as he constantly hits that spot. You refused to give him that satisfaction.

Dazai seems to notice this as well. “Don’t hold back. You know I’ll get what I want in the end, anyways.”

Your breath hitches. You knew that. But you didn’t want to give Dazai the satisfaction of having all power over you. But that was all slowly becoming impossible as you came to the realization that physically, you had always wanted Dazai carnally, your mind just believed otherwise.

And as Dazai pushes you down particularly hard that time on his cock, you can’t help but loudly squeal at how good it really felt. It felt mind-numbing lay good. You enjoyed the pain, all too well.

Dazai smirks against your neck again, knowing that he had gotten you in a state where he has all the power. He leans into your neck. He bites down on the flesh, hard enough to draw blood. He licks at the blood enjoying the taste.

And at this exact moment, your hole clench around him too, signalling that you were close to your high.

Dazai groans slightly, taking in the pleasure of the feeling. But he was never kind enough to let you reach your high on the first round.

And he wasn’t going to be kind this time, either.

He bounces you on his cock at a more rapid pace, as your moans get higher and higher, until your cunt is clenching around him tight enough that he almost felt like you could snap his cock off.

And to think you didn’t like it? It made him scoff.

Dazai feels himself chasing his high too. It had been so long… since he had last done this. He felt fulfilled. He felt like he, himself, were on cloud nine, all his previous emotions relieved, instead a dark sort of pleasure replacing any previous emotions.

You’re no different yourself. Despite your anger and hatred towards him, even from one look at your eyes, he could tell you were craves this in a carnal way as well. And for miles around, only the slapping of skin, combined with wet noises, and moaning could be heard. There was no need for anymore than that.

But then it all stops. You look at him in confusion, whining slightly, as he pulls out. Dazai never let you come the first time. He would reduce you to a whining, brainless, mess before allowing you to cum. Only to let you cum so many times, that you wouldn’t even be able to walk the next day.

Yet as for himself, he would cum countless times, until your holes were filled with him, and until your body was covered in it. His cum.

You wince at the gross sticky sensation between your legs again. You feel Dazai’s cum running down your thigh, and it feels disgusting. Normally, you’d yell at him for him to pull out, but right now, your mind was too hazed with other things to care.

“You think you get to cum on the first round after acting like that?”

You don’t respond, trying to get rid of the feeling of being so empty.

“You’re really that desperate, aren’t you?”

You still don’t respond, breathing heavily. Your mind is numbed again, still trying to recover from the myriad of sensations hitting you. Your mind is still hazy with lustful desire.

Dazai sighs, “I suppose I’ll just have to make you cum over, and over, and over, until you can’t anymore.

Your eyes slowly widen again, as you stare at him. “No…. No… please anything but tha-“

“Shh… shh… it’s okay belladonna. You’ll feel so good at the end of it. Promise.”

“No please… Dazai, I didn’t mean it like that. Please, please… it’ll hurt….”

Dazai caresses your face. It’s a gentle, tender action that you want to lean into. But you know it feels more like a nurse preparing you for a needle. A very painful needle that would scar you your arm, that would make you look in shame for the rest of your life.

He kisses you, again, and you have no choice to accept what he gives you.

Dazai looks at you. You’ve came more times than he could actually count, to the point where you weren’t even conscious anymore. You’re covered in cum, sweat, and scratch and bruise marks. A mixture of yours and his cum drips out of your hole, and he takes the sight in with a sick sort of satisfaction.

He’ll a,ways love you. In his own sick, twisted way. Every step he takes, every breath he takes. He’ll do it all for you. You don’t belong to anyone else. You’re his, only his.

No matter how far you go, you’ll always be pulled back to him.

He picks you up, and kisses you on the forehead. You look so peaceful.. sleeping. He drapes his jacket over you, and puts his clothes back on.

“Let’s go home now, shall we Belladonna?”

He walks out of the alleyway, his footsteps echoing throughout the walls.

—-

One light flickers.

Static fills Dazai’s ears. He opens his eyes. He sits up disoriented, looking around at his surroundings.

That’s right.

He’s still in prison, he’s still detained in this room, and he forever will be. Until he tries to escape. Until there’s a way out of this, he‘ll just have to stay here, and hope for the best. At this moment, he remembers why he was here in the first place.

He turns on his on his back again. The desolate ceiling mocks him.

But his mind doesn’t want to think about that now. That dream he just had…. It felt so surreal yet real at the same time. He wonders if you were actually there, or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

There’s an obvious answer to that question, though. It’s not even worth asking.

You’re gone. Forever. He doesn’t even know where you are. You don’t know where he is either.

He thought of that dream just to relive his own desires. There’s nothing more to it. Everything is still the same. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel some delusional hope that something was different today.

But he should crush that hope before disappointment gets to him again.

Just then, there is a knock in the door. He wonders who it is. As he walks towards the door, he wonders why the prison guards are bothering him. Yet again. It wasn’t like he had done anything over the previous days.

He twists the doorknob, thinking about what he’s going to say this time. Maybe he’ll even punch them in the face.

However, as he pulls the door back, it’s not what he expected at all.

No… maybe being hopeful worked, for once. Maybe the dream was to tell him something.

It’s you.

You’re here.

And if looks could kill, he would just be about dead now.

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herlondonboy · 2 years ago

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The Words I Could Never say

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: being alone by choice is nicer than being alone by chance.

Warnings: first person (Wednesday’s perspective), probably spelling mistakes, angst.

Word Count: 0.6k

“Every time I see you I feel more alone.” Your words rang though my head. I truly had loved you, but just didn’t know how to show it. Turns out getting the person you’re in love with nearly killed isn’t a good look. Anger overtook the both of us. Anger and fear. Harsh words were thrown to and fro. It was like watching a tennis match.

“You don’t pay any attention to me, Wednesday.” That’s a lie. I payed more than enough attention to you. I knew that when you were confused there were two wrinkles between your eyebrows, but when you were sad there were for. I knew your favourite colours and clothes to wear. I knew to give you the teaspoons rather than the dinner spoons because you didn’t like how they felt in your hand.

“I tell you I love you and you don’t say it back.” I may not say it, but I show it. I left your favourite snacks on your bedside table when you were sick. I play your favourite songs on my cello and teaches you how to play them too. I let you hug me even though I hate physical contact, because it makes you happy. I’d watch you sleeping and murmur ‘I adore you more than you would ever know’ because it was true. My love for you couldn’t be squashed into small words people think mean something.

“You promised me we wouldn’t get hurt!” That was true. I hadn’t anticipated on The Hyde knowing our exact whereabouts, but it did and the maroon scar going from your eyebrow to your cheek proved it. Not to mention the broken arm and gashes along your chest.

“Did you ever even care?” Of course I cared. How could I not? You were everything I have ever wanted and more. You were the lighthouse guiding me to land safely. The star, the sun and the moon in the endless world we call a sky. Why don’t you understand? The words are lodged in my throat as you scream at me. All the words I want to say, stuck, pushing themselves back down.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, y/n.” Was all I managed to spit out. I was holding back tears. God, why did you have to make me feel these things in my heart. The look on your face was uncanny. You didn’t even look like yourself. Oh, my sweet, sweet sunshine. What have I done to you? The veins popped out of your neck and forehead and I suddenly realised that maybe that was the wrong thing to say. The right thing to say was nothing.

“You know what, Wednesday? I’m done. We’re done.” What hurt the most was that you didn’t cry nor look back. You didn’t regret your words the day after. You didn’t come back. There was no good morning kiss to wake up to. No one wondering if I had pleasant nightmares whilst I was asleep. I was alone, but now it hurt more than ever.

Being alone once brought me a happiness I couldn’t describe, but now it brings me bad memories I can’t begin to like. Everything hurts. And not a good pain. I thought dying would be fun, but this? This was awful. Why did I tell you to come? I was alone before for a reason. Being alone by choice will forever be far better than being alone by chance.

I will forever be haunted by the words I could never say.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday Addams angst #wednesday addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams one shot #please read because I need validation 🙏#elijah writes

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megumimania · 2 years ago

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london boy eren, jean and connie hcs!!

a/n: back on my connie bs again after @westcinny said he gave central cee vibes i’ve been obsessed . also snuck eren and jean here cuz why not 🤭 the format changed when it got to eren and jean it was 3am when i was writing this and i got lazy sorry 😭

warnings: slight connie x reader if you squint! v brief mention of weed

mini glossary:

bump- to get on public transport without paying

bait- someone who is well known.

leng- means beautiful or attractive

CONNIE

londoner!connie who is from south and is always repping it to the point where people are sick of him like bro we get it!😭

londoner!connie who is a trapstar/techfleece warrior even when it’s hot asf outside, he refuses to take if off

but when he does take it off trust you’ll see him in a white tee, grey shorts combo with a gold chain and af1s

londoner!connie who always bumping train despite him having an oyster card with money on it (tfl be charging extortionate prices for the train tho😔)

londoner!connie who has several tattoos, (with one dedicated to you ofc) also has a shit ton of piercings

londoner!connie who’s playlist mostly consists of drill music (both uk and ny cuz he doesn’t have a preference) but is always on the hunt for new genres of music

londoner!connie who has deffo taken his birthday pic at canary wharf once 😭 (its a rite of passage for us londoners i swearrrr)

londoner!connie who used to use his e scooter to get around everywhere cuz he failed his driving test a couple of times. but now he’s driving a benz so progress ig!

londoner!connie who rarely goes to motives but when he does its because you ask him to, he always stands to the side with his drink watching you dance with your friends, before you drag him in to catch a whine from you

londoner!connie who is more of a smoker than a drinker, trust that he always has a blunt behind his ear but sometimes you’ll catch him sipping a magnum

londoner!connie who is ALWAYS at the chicken and the chip shop its gotten to the point where bossman already inputs his order without saying anything

londoner!connie who pops up to your ig stories with either ‘😍😍’ or ‘you’re looking leng icl’

londoner!connie who despite his cold demeanour is loved by the little kids on the estate like hes always spoiling them buying them sweets, toys all that shit

londoner!connie who calls girls darlin’ or babe

EREN

he would be from north or northwest london

eren would be bait like he prob has half of london on snap

he knows connie from mutual friends

fellow tech fleece warrior like he owns so much in so many colours omg

eren refuses to drive, he rides his e scooter everywhere or he ubers most of the time

he got banned from tfl after trying to bump train and got caught by the ticket officer

he’s always at motives like every week no matter how far they are

has several girls in rotation, london boys are not loyal sorry 😔

you can catch him at westfields tryna chat to girls

he got rich from crypto so he’s always at the shard or the ivy or at hakkasan

but he does fraud on the side always doing refund methods sigh

eren’s ig stories consist of him smoking, him thirst trapping with drill in the back or him flexing with stacks of cash

has an insane watch and jewellery collection

JEAN

Jean would not be from london lmao

but if he did he would probably live in like wimbledon or some shit

Hes one of those guys who claim london but they live in surrey

He’s a corteiz/stussy warrior he’d never be caught dead in anything else

Always talking about uk undergroud rap but only knows knucks or sainte

He forces the slang so hard 😭 when he knows that he had never spoken like that in his life

Jean probably drives a range rover

Hes’s always at hyde park

Jean is a vape addict like ik he has a collection of vapes LOOOL

he always shops at harrods and waitrose none of that tesco, lidl stuff for him

#aot headcanons #jean kirstein #eren yeager headcanons #vina writes: aot #aot #connie x black reader #connie x reader #this was so hard to write idk why #i hope it makes sense guys #jean kirstein x reader #eren aot #snk anime #snk #eren jeager x y/n #eren yeager

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ataraxiaspainting · 1 year ago

Text

The Other Side Of Paradise.

Makima x F Reader.

Synopsis: Makima has grown on you like a parasite, minus the grossness. You think you have grown on her too.

Warnings: Slightly unhealthy relationships because, uh, you know, Makima.

Word Count: 1.5k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lilith by Ellise

she calls me daddy by KiNG MALA

Strawberry Blond by Mitski

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage

You don’t think she is the same as when you first met her.

You don’t think she is the same as when you first met her, because her body always faces you regardless of the situation. Whenever she visits you at your apartment, sitting on your couch while watching television, she is more often than not closer to you than she would perhaps admit. Her arms and legs are usually uncrossed too, though anyone could argue that she never does with anyone; co-worker or friend.

You fidget when she gets lunch with you or some other activity that is supposed to be calming towards those involved. It’s embarrassing whenever you think back on it; thinking about how you shifted in your seat a bit too much that you fell over onto the grass, the shame burning into your memory whenever you try to go to sleep.

You know you aren’t the same as when you first met her.

But has she? You hope so because you plan to confess to her today. It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and you think that there couldn’t be a better time to do so. The only thing you hate about Makima now is how difficult she is to read, especially in the workplace. It’s an improvement, you think, because you used to think much less of her. You most likely will never be able to tell if Makima found your once hateful feelings towards her amusing, pathetic, or didn’t even realize it at all.

Maybe it is a good thing though, because ignorance is bliss.

This both fuels and puts out the flames of your fears of rejection, like water mixed with gasoline.

The sound of Makima’s phone ringing only gets louder with every step you take towards her office. “Tsk. Troublesome.”

You take note of her slightly frustrated expression as she puts her phone on silent and places it face-down on her desk. “Um, hi Miss Makima.”

“Hello, Miss [Last].” You used to say her name with such passive aggression, envious that you will never be a director of public safety yourself and can only be an assistant to one. She, however, says your last name as she always has; with a calm and neutral tone. “Happy Valentine’s Day. You look nice.”

“T-Thank you.”

Her eyes smile more than her lips do. “I mean it.”

“Really?”

Every time Makima nods her head with a for once readable expression, you could swear that your pulse rate shoots up.

The proof is in how blood rushes to your cheeks, making you blush and turn away.

“Really. You are beautiful, Miss [First].”

You feel lightheaded, the amount of sanguine fluid moving to your head being heavy enough to almost make you fall forward and fall straight onto your face. “T-Thanks. You too.”

As you turn away from her and look at the gift piles next to Makima’s desk, so does she. There are at least ten bouquets and at least twenty small other presents. A large teddy bear too, is hidden beneath it all with only its face showing fully. Makima has never been short of admirers, another reason why you used to always be so jealous of her.

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day,” you mutter. “I just wanted to give you this.”

In your right hand is a gift bag with a few huskies on it.

Makima had mentioned that that was her favorite kind of dog to you before, and you archived the memory for later reference.

She leans forward and her fingers wrap around the string handle, pulling it towards her gently. “Oh, thank you. I have something for you too.”

You don’t know how it is possible, but you can sense your cheeks getting even redder. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can sense her amusement based on her humming alone. Inside the bag is a box of dark chocolate truffles of a brand you both like as well as a framed photo of you two together. It probably isn’t the most original gift she has gotten today though, and that makes your stomach aches worsen from the anxiety.

“You didn’t have to give me anything, Miss Makima.” You smile only faintly.

“Then why did you give me something?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing, and you want to scream into your pillow tonight as compensation for your awkwardness. As a response to her question, you start stuttering out excuses one word at a time before restarting, over and over again.

I just thought you’d like these, you wanted to say, but emotion is taking over your ability to speak.

She waltzes over to her desk like a slow dancer, her movements much more elegant than yours ever could, would, and will be.

As if your heart was a drum, it beats in an irregular rhythm.

Bum bum, thump thump, dun dun.

She crouches down, curling her knees and putting a hand on her chin as her other hand opens the cabinet beside her desk. She takes three books out in total. Crime and Punishment. The Metamorphosis. I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. All of these books you have mentioned to her before on one occasion or another, that now is leaving you genuinely touched by her present actions.

She leaves you feeling warm, a feeling you don’t think you have felt for anyone else.

“If I remember correctly, these were some of the books you have mentioned wanting to read in person, correct?” At the sight of your head bobbing up and down with pure and unfiltered delight with a mmhmm leaving your throat, she in turn finally allows her lips to move upward. No longer is the smile she wears cordial–instead it is bright like fireflies in summer, her eyes being the very sun itself.

It is a sight you will never forget, its beauty is too mesmerizing to be left out of your core memories. “I can’t believe you remembered that I wanted those.”

There is a chuckle that leaves her mouth that threatens to sweep you off your feet.

Her fingers graze against yours as she hands you the novels. They are softer than yours, cleaner.

“Well, believe it then.”

“I-I will.”

“Good,” She says, the praise only makes your face that much more hot. It feels like you are in a dream sweeter than cotton candy and just as soft as it. If this is a figment of your imagination, you would much rather stay in it for the rest of your life. “You’re quite adorable, blushing like that.”

She receives a gaze from you that can only be defined as being captivated by her stardom. “I-I gotta ask you something if you don’t mind.”

Her grin widens with each stumble of your speech.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you doing something after work tonight?”

For a brief moment, she rests her chin in her hand and lets out a thoughtful hum. Her gaze shifts towards the ceiling as she ponders whether any post-work plans are awaiting her today. After what feels like an eternity, she shakes her head. “I am not, why?”

“Oh, well…” You pause for a second, looking down to try to somewhat cover your embarrassment. When you finally work up the courage to speak again, you sound hopeful. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day today?”

She nods in turn, acknowledging the obvious. “It is indeed.”

“Uh, I was wondering…” You pause again and try to focus on your shoes instead of your stuttering words. “Would you want to, you know, go out or something?” As you both lock eyes in silence, a surge of determination prompts you to expand your inquiry while assuming a more upright stance. “If you’re not doing anything, of course.”

Once more, her lips curl into a smile and she affirms with a subtle nod. “Sure. But Miss [Last], is this a romantic date?”

Your face flushes, betraying your hidden desire for this outing to be more than just a casual hangout. Despite your efforts to conceal it, deep down, you know she can sense your longing for it to be a date instead.

“Er, yes,” you finally say, the ends of your shoes rubbing against one another as you fiddle with your fingers. You hate how awkward you can be, especially with Makima. “I was hoping it could be… a romantic date.”

Once more, her laughter echoes as you stumble over your words, and you brace yourself for the impending disaster. Anticipating her rejection, you find solace in the darkness behind closed eyelids, fully aware that this could lead to your demotion.

“Then it shall be. I’ll pick you up.”

You don’t process her words at first. You are still preparing for the carpet to be pulled from underneath your feet and for you to be ridiculed. But that never comes, because after a few more seconds of silence, you open your eyes to see that Makima’s cheeks are light pink, barely noticeable.

“R-Really?”

“I mean it.”

You know that she does, and that makes your heart flutter like a bird.

#makima #makima x reader #csm makima #chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man x reader #reader insert #author aya #just a little something <333

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spaceagebachelormann · 9 months ago

Note

alright. Maybe I am attracted to black and white classic monsters. Maybe I did read your Adam Frankenstein fanfiction even though I don’t quite know if he’s the monster or just some other guy related to the scientist. Maybe I’ll request something.

I notice you don’t have any Jekyll and Hyde fanfiction. I can help with that. Maybe falling in love with both Jekyll and Hyde? Like, being in love with both and not knowing who to choose? Don't know if you can write something like that, but man am I thinking about it.

✧.* 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑. 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐑. 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES: black and white monsters are so hot bbg nobody is blaming u 🙏 also if it helps adam frankenstein is a name for the monster given by the fandom because the creature/monster feels rlly mean. also if u have any other jekyll and hyde or frankenstein requests, i’m your girl

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: mentions of murder (its jekyll and hyde)

oh you poor soul

falling in love with them both is a horrible, horrible, mistake

jekyll is pretty oblivious to it, he just thinks you’re being nice, but he is suspicious because you’re being a little to nice

but for the most part he doesn’t overthink it

hyde, though, knows almost immediately

and it really amuses him

will start kinda rudely flirting with you and affectionately bullying you simply because he finds your reactions funny

will very subtly compliment you in some way and have to stop himself from laughing when you turn bright red

when jekyll finds out about this he is extremely embarrassed

embarrassed at the way hyde is acting and embarrassed he didn’t realize sooner

he begins thinking, and it really explains quite a lot

it explains the way you act around both of them, how you go out of your way to do things for them, how you switch up when your alone with them than with other people

jekyll is both honoured and terrified that you actually like him

it puts both of them at an impasse because they can’t agree on what to do

hyde wants to keep tormenting you and messing with your mind into thinking he likes you (he’s not even sure if he does or not)

but jekyll wants to either politely reject you or ask you out in a meaningful way

the main issue is they don’t know if they really do like you or not

hyde is mainly just surprised and almost disgusted you actually like him, but he’s too interested to not be more curious than anything

because, honestly, him?? of all people??

jekyll is sure he also likes you, but he’s also refusing to admit it because of hyde

he’s mainly concerned of what he’ll do to you if your feeling for him are one sided, he doesn’t want you to end up hurt

he’d rather die than be the reason someone else is hurt (that’s why hyde is there, but in this case he doesn’t even want hyde to do it)

they accidentally avoid you while trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do

hydes urge to kill you (if he ever really even had one) is gone almost immediately, he just thinks your very stupid and amusing now

he almost. almost adores you

the situation is much worse for you in your perspective

you like both a murderer and a sociopath, it’s not great for you

even worse you’re convinced you have to choose just one

and they’re also both kind of avoiding you which is really horrible

they don’t even realize they’re doing it, which is the worst part

so, while you’re trying to figure out who’s the best option for you, they’re trying to figure out if they both even like you

well actually they’re sure they do, they just can’t agree on a way to move forward

once their little era of avoiding you is over, they’re both very nice (hyde is nice in his own way)

jekyll invites you over and gives you a long meaningful talk about their feelings and where they are in figuring it out, and he also gives an apology for accidentally ignoring you for a week or two

hyde is still pretty much himself, but you find him looking at you more often and offering to kill people you mentioned not liking before

he most likely does it, even if you don’t want him too

he goes back to his regular affectionate(ish, you can’t tell if he’s being really serious or not) and slightly crude flirting

but now you know he really does mean it

you all take your time in finding out how you’d like to proceed, until they both just confess to you and you use hydes idea of just moving forward and figuring everything out as you go along

#mars writing 🧈#jekyll and hyde (marlees version 🧪)#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #henry jekyll x reader #edward hyde x reader #jekyll and hyde x reader

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sthnearlyheadless · 1 year ago

Text

To be alone

The Hyde is looking for Wednesday Addams, everyone knows this. But you're not scared of this. Nor of her. Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

You see, i intent to make this a series and is going to be +18, i guess, but for this one the warnings are gonna be mentions of blood and fights. That's all i guess. also: i did not proofread, y'all!!! I'm sorry if you find any mistakes

You always were an observer. Always. It was a curse and a blessing.

You were born with this quiet trait and people often took it as if you were spacing out or were just disconnected with everyone else all the time. To be honest, most of the time you felt disconnected with everyone else, yes, but you were always aware of everything. You just chose to not get involved with things that weren’t of your concern.

But when you saw her, you could not help it. There were something more than magic and attractive about the new raven student girl of Nevermore Academy.

Wednesday Addams. The one and only.

You could never be sure what made you - and let’s be honest - half of the school so magnetized by the small girl. The same mysterious and gorgeous amount of energy that Wednesday carried with her made you and the other fascinated, the other half of the school were just afraid of the strong but small girl.

Not only because of her personallity, but because of the monster that was seeking for her.

The Hyde.

You were scared for her, but not of her. Never of her.

But you never ever expected that she would notice you.

You, who show up little and speak even less.

But that was what happened. Completely out of nowhere she showed up by your side, taking you by surprise and filched a little. Just like she expected, of course.

“Don’t you sleep?” she asked. You were sat by the lake, looking at the white reflection of the Moon on the water. The only sound present was the wind that occasionally made you shiver a little, the weather was the way you liked. But now, Wednesday’s voice was present as well and her figure also made you shiver a bit, for different reasons.

“Yes”, you answered looking up to her. She was looking straight ahead not at you. You look at the lake again, like she was doing. “You?”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be here by yourself” she pointed out, still not looking at you. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t answers your question, was the statement itself, like she was concerned about you somehow. That thought made you frown a little and look back at her. “You know there is a monster out there, attacking people”.

“Do you even know me?” you scoff, Wednesday looked at for the first time. O as far as you know, it’s the first time, because just like you, Wednesday is an observer. A pro one. Like a hawk and am owl, nothing can escape from her and that was what you were feeling right now looking back at your reflection on her black irises. Like a pray.

“Your Y/N Y/L/N, a very brilliant shapeshifter for your age… or so the teachers say” she stated. “Your also Enid’s so I inevitably heard about you, even if that wasn’t my willing”.

“Sorry to hear that Enid tortured you” you smiled without showing your teeth.

Wednesday looked you, I mean, really watched you. She was watching how your hair was softly dancing with the wind accompanied by the moonlight. She loved the feeling of solitude, but to be alone with you right now almost felt as good.

“It wasn’t torture, I usually enjoy pain. But hear her bubbling is not the good kind. It’s worse than anything”.

“So the big Addams does have a weak point. This is a real surprise”.

“Tell anyone and that will be the last thing you’ll ever say” she fiercely said. You raised your hands in defense, smiling at her. Once again Wednesday felt a weird feeling on her guts, seeing you smile. Why couldn’t she figure it out this? You?

“I guess you’re right” you said standing up. Patting your clothes to clean them. “I should go back to my dorm. It’s getting late.”

Wednesday nod one time.

“Why are you here, Wednesday?”

“I was just passing by”

“And suddenly came to the exactly place that I was. The other side of the Ophelia Hall, almost at the florets. It’s very far”

“I couldn’t sleep, was just wondering”

You squinted your eyes.

“You? Just wondering?” you scoffed, crossing your arms around your chest. “You don’t seem to be the person who even breath without thinking about. All your movements have a reason why”.

“You almost talk like you know me” Wednesday slightly lifted her perfect eyebrow. It was almost unnoticeable.

“I’ve been watching you. You caught my attention, that doesn’t happen often”.

“I could always said the same to you” she retorted.

As you were about to reply and ask one more time what Wednesday was really doing there, both of you clearly heard a noise. A loud one, coming from the bushes that were near you two.

You instantly took a step forward Wednesday. People didn’t know about your body muscles because you always wore big clothes, they were comfier, but boy you were strong. You always were exercising when you were not studying and this is about everything you do in your life.

“Stand back” you advised her. Wednesday send you a dirty look, you couldn’t see because you were looking at the bushes that were moving a little now, and that wasn’t because of the wind that was blowing.

“Don’t you ever tell me what to do”

“I’m just trying to protect you” you explained, talking low and approaching to the bushes. You looked at Wednesday. “Can you please leave now?”

“And let you here by yourself? We don’t even know what’s in there”

“It could be the Hyde, we both know it” you said. “That’s why you came here outside, wasn’t it? You’re crazy to find who is it, aren’t you?”

You were very smart, Wednesday had to admit. Quick to solve puzzles. But she would not tell what she thinks to you or out loud, of course. You just seemed to be more and more interesting to her.

“If it’s it you can’t beat it by yourself, Y/N. The Hyde is looking for me”

“I’m stronger than I look” you gave her a half smile. “Now go back inside, Wednesday”.

“I’d love to see you try make me do something I don’t want to” the raven girl challenged.

Dammit, you thought as you sighed. She wasn’t going to back up, she was too stubborn to do that.

“Fine” you said at last. “But if it’s really what you’re looking for you won’t stay here. You’re going to the school and call for the teachers, Weems, the police or whoever the hell for help, OK? I’ll try to stop this thing but you won’t stay here”.

Wednesday was analyzing you for a second. Studying your features and almost seeing through you like a dead frog in a biology class that amazed her.

“Why do you care do much?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt” you explained. “We have a deal?” Y/N urged.

“Yes”

“OK. Good” you nod your head. You both were a bit serious now, tense as you quietly walked towards the bushes. A growl could be heard. The bushes were moving more erratically and out of nowhere, something jumps out if the bushes, aiming to attack Wednesday, but Y/N is faster and catches the thing in the air. Wednesday was petrified for a split second, but it wasn’t her fault. Everything happened in a blink of an eye.

She watched as the Hyde and Y/N were on the grass, rolling from one side to the other as Y/N was struggling to hold the enormous creature. But somehow during the fight, Y/N could shift her form to a wolf, a big wolf, almost as big as the Hyde. She was strong, this Wednesday could admit out loud. Even more because she was defending her for some reason the short girl couldn’t understand.

“Go. Find. Weems!” Y/N growled. Her voice wasn’t her voice, was the wolf’s voice. A anger bark. But Wednesday was getting back to Earth quickly, pulling herself together as the Hyde looked at her with its horrid eyes.

The Hyde attacked Y/N when she was trying to get Wednesday’s attention to get out of that place and she was the one who lowed her guard and was with that was hit pretty hard in the head. The wolf’s body flew away with a shriek of pain.

“Y/N!” Wednesday wailed.

The thing’s distorted face cracked a smile looking at Wednesday, the girl shifted her gaze between Y/N’s body and the monster who attacked her. The wolf’s head was bleeding now.

You see, Wednesday was a stoic person and would never demonstrate with her facial expression or body language what she was feeling, her face was always grave and serious and all. But she was feeling a lot right now.

She was concerned with Y/N, she knew she was never able to get to the school without the Hyde get her before she could even think about it. And she was dying to know who it was and why this monster was haunting her and hurting other people. Well, in on way or another she would actually know at least one thing finally. Even if it was the dying part.

She had to think.

Fast.

The Hyde growled and huffed its big nostrils and was starting to walk walk rapidly towards Wednesday. Only to be stopped on his track by you. You was hurt, but you managed to get in front of Wednesday, like a wall. The small girl’s breath was erratic like yours.

“Why don’t you fight with you height, asshole?” you grunted.

Angered, the Hyde attacked one more time, but this time you could block its attack. And having her senses back to her, Wednesday thought of a way to get him away from you. She spotted an old rake that was laying around near the garden cleaners and ran to get it. When she took it, she glanced at the both of you and saw the Hyde on top of you while you were both fight. She didn’t think much of it. She ran toward you two again.

“Leave her alone!” she screamed as she stuck the rake into the side of his stomach, piercing the skin. That was enough to make it whimper and get off of you. You were panting as you watched the monster hold its belly as it was walking away. The Hyde was with his wide eyes looking at Wednesday, scared and surprised at the same time.

You smiled weakly. Stupid beast, it should know better than underestimate the small raven girl. Wednesday’s impassive face was looking on the monster’s eyes without blink, a silence dare to it get back, but the Hyde was too pathetic to try. Not now that it was so hurt, at least.

The monster got back to the florets.

Y/N’s whimper made Wednesday look back at her, she kneeled down by the girl side.

“You are an idiot” Wednesday said looking at her. “You could have killed yourself”.

“I know”

“Why did you do it?”

Y/N was going to answer if the blood on her mouth wasn’t making her cough and the pain on her whole body wasn’t starting to get a little too much for her to be conscious.

“Don’t say anything. I’ll get help. I don’t want you dying here like you did something when I was the one who actually saved you”.

“Yeah…” you smiled a bit, your face was getting back to normal. You were so tired that you couldn’t even open your eyes. “You’re the hero, Wednesday, you can have the credits. I won’t say anything. Maybe you’ll get a medal”.

“Can’t you pass out already?” Wednesday taunted and heard a laughed from you before you actually pass out.

She was worried in reality, but she had to make sure you were OK. The Hyde wasn’t important now, she rushed to get help for you.

#wednesday addams x femreader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x y/n

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anomaly-076 · 28 days ago

Text

Going on a date w/ Tkdb teachers

♦ I don't think I've seen anything related to the professors during my time lurking around in the tags, which is kinda a shame, so here's some love for our wacky adults :D ♦

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The Chancellor

(Ik he looks like a kid, but he literally has a son if I remember correctly)

Even with how busy Cornelius usually is, if he likes you he'll find a way to squeeze you into his agenda

It's either a lunch date during his hour or so that he has for a lunch break

Or a dinner date after which he'll have more freedom to also do something else with you

Like stargazing

Idk why but Cornelius strikes me as the one to love stargazing

Sadly, you can't be up for too long though, since he has to wake up early to work again

But the next day, one of the mail cats drops by with a rose and a note thanking you for a nice evening and invitation to meet with him for lunch

⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Dante

Not really a date, but more of a parallel reading session in Dante's private library

He's already there when you knock on the door, beckoning you to enter the room so eh doesn't have to open the door for you

If you want, you two can snuggle up on a sofa that's in the library and he'll read some classical literature book to you

Once your relationship progresses further, Dante wouldn't be against laying his head on your lap while you read to him

He might fall asleep each time, but how can you blame him?

Your voice is so soothing and your lap is so comfortable

Only when the two of you are alone, he's able to fully relax

⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Hyde

Clueless idiot alert!

Huh? Him asking you out on a date? That's ridiculous! Unless....?

If he somehow manages to ask you out in person and not via a note hidden in one of your books, his whole face is red to the very tips of his white hair

Takes you out for crepes or something

It has to be something simple

Something that doesn't scream 'date'

You're just two colleagues trying out the new ice cream stand since few of your students talked about it, haha... right?

Prepare to be the first one to initiate everything in the relationship and even then, Hyde is flustered mess

But don't you dare mentioning any of that to his other colleagues or even Sho!

Hyde definitely doesn't get all red just from holding hands or when you peck him on the cheek!

⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Moby

The sole reason for how I came up with this idea

I can just imagine Moby trying so hard to make up with his behavior for the fact that the place he took you is a very cheap 2* diner that may or may not have a bit of a mice problem

Worry not! All six of his remaining tentacles will make sure no little critter will get into your food!

He feels very guilty to drag you to such place, but it's the best he can afford

And no, he will not let you pay for yourself so you can eat somewhere better

What gentleman would make you pay on a date he invited you to?

After that mice fiasco, he'll try to find different places you two can enjoy yourselves

Like a walk in the park! That doesn't cost anything and is nice to get to know your date

Maybe, once he manages to find a way to feed The Chancellors cats without getting attacked, he'll be able to buy you a snack or something!

⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Nicolas

Talk about busy

Nicolas barely has a time for himself while managing the hospital

If it weren't for Yuri and Jiro, he wouldn't even be able to get any sleep

So instead of dates, you usually just bring him lunch and eat it together in his office

Sometimes, if you don't happen to have a lesson to teach, you're helping him out

By some point, you've learned so much, that you're able to get qualified as a nurse

You don't have to, but it would help Mortkranken a lot to have another person on their team

Plus you could spend more time with him that way

But he insists, that you really don't have to and if you want to spend more time with him, he'll try to find a different way

#tokyo debunker #tkdb #tkdb the chancellor #tkdb cornelius #professor dante #professor hyde #professor moby #professor nicolas

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thecountoflondonfansite · 25 days ago

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Henry felt devastated for his oldest friend. "That's absolutely horrible. I can't possibly imagine what Robert is going through. Even though he had issues with his father, this would no doubt affect him greatly.” His heart ached for Robert. Having lost his father due to a murder. Who could've done that? Was it the same person who attempted to kill Mr. Danvers Carew with the fire which Hyde got framed for? “You said it seemed personal. Why do you say that, old friend?” The lawyer took a moment to answer. “The murder was grisly and there wasn't anything stolen from the crime scene. It sounded more than just a robbery gone wrong. If it was truly that, expensive items would've been missing yet it all remained. I'm honestly shocked that Robert never told you. You two were always so close. Practically inseparable from college.” Henry looked visibly uncomfortable and solemn due to what his friend had said. “Thank you for telling me this. I do hope Robert will tell me about this on his own time. I won't force him or rush him.” Gabriel nodded at that. “Are you going to tell him?” The teacher seemed hesitant to answer that. “I will, once he has his own problems sorted. I would rather not add onto his problems with my own.” While it was true, Henry also didn't want to make things more complicated for Robert. He knew that his best friend had HJ7 and possibly could have ingested it. Leading to his own soul being split. It would only stress him out which could lead to his possible version of Hyde to get better control over him. It would only serve as ammo Robert's counterpart could use against him. “That is quite understandable. You two have been through a lot. Also considering the incident with your former employee. Mr. Hyde. It's been so stressful for both of you.” Hyde felt nervous whenever Gabriel would mention him. It felt like he could so easily uncover who he truly was to Henry. It was why he never appeared around him either. It's not that they didn't trust him. Not at all. As crazy as Hyde thought he was, he didn't want to possibly lose a friend he technically never met. He actually liked Gabriel and knew that the lies Henry kept would hurt the man deeply. It was a shared fear between Henry and Edward. “Thank you for understanding that, Gabriel. Also thank you for helping me.” Gabriel offered him a warm smile. “Of course. I would do anything for my dearest friends.” It troubled Henry. Why didn't Robert say anything about his father? Yet again, Robert did keep it a secret that he had a vial of HJ7 too. Becky looked confused, she had known about the murder of Dr. Lanyons father before he did. She was sure he would've known. Before the young girl could think about it further, she heard a voice calling for her. It was her uncle's voice. She listened to him calling, luckily Gabriel was too occupied with Henry to notice that. She went over to her father and tugged at his sleeve. Making Dr.Two-Brains lean over so she could whisper into his ear. “Dad, Uncle Alan is calling me. It sounds really urgent, I'll be back as soon as possible.” The mad scientist seemed reluctant to let her leave but nodded. “Alright, please don't take too long. Be careful.” With that said, Becky left. The moment she was alone, checking to make sure it was safe, Becky transformed and flew straight to Alan's and Hugh's apartment. She wondered why he called for her instead of going there himself. It must've been something serious. When she arrived, Becky went to the apartment she knew they resided in. Giving the door a couple of knocks before it was answered by Alan. Behind him were the other three of the four. “Uncle Alan? What are the others doing here?” His expression remained stoic. “We wanted to tell you something. We need you to tell your dad to turn his phone on. We have urgent information to tell him. Something has happened. We need to tell him what as well as the information we gained from it.”

Becky looked alarmed at what her uncle had just said. "Does it have something to do with Dr. Barriton?" Becky inquired as she remembered her dad telling her about the blonde scientist. Becky never really met him since the guy was fired when she was a baby. Her dad did describe him as an absolute narcissus and prick who was Athena's cousin. Becky didn't hold it against anyone to be related to that psycho woman since her twin brother Eris was a good person. She held the man's character and lack of morals against him. Alan shook his head. "No, it wasn't Calvin. Have you heard any of the adults speak of a Lucian Bennett?" Alan asked his niece. Becky pondered the question a bit and shook her head. "Not really, no." She answered. "Who is he?" The four looked at each other, not really sure how to explain. Hugh decided to speak about the man and his encounter to a degree. "We are not entirely sure who Lucian is as a person, but we know he is like Edward Hyde. By that, I mean he is the counterpart of someone who took the HJ7 formula." Becky's eyes widened at Hugh's explanation. There was someone out there who had their own Mr. Hyde! "Does Dr. Jekyll know about Lucian?" Becky asked in an urgent tone. The others gave a nod. "Yeah, he is aware of Lucian. He is also aware of the man having his own variation of the HJ7 formula though he isn't entirely sure how it is possible." Jenkins explained. "Listen, Becky. We really need to get in touch with your dad. It's difficult to explain but Lucian had nearly gotten physical with Hugh. We need to tell your dad what we know and what happened. Alan couldn't fly to Henry's house since it would have caused some alarm and we know the others are still recovering from Athena's attack. That is why he contacted you." Patricia explained in a serious tone. Becky nodded as she understood the gravity of the situation. "Okay, I'll get my dad." The heroine then took off back to Dr. Jekyll's apartment. "Where did your daughter run off too?" Gabriel asked. "Oh, she remembered she had to go outside and call her uncle Alan and let him know she couldn't spend the night at his and Hugh's home this Friday since personal things came up." Dr Two Brains quickly explained. Utterson looked surprised at the response. "She had to take her phone call outside." The lawyer exclaimed with a slightly suspicious tone. Two Brains internally panicked. 'Why can't this guy be as dumb as the rest of the civilians in this city.' "Oh well it was special bonding family thing they had this weekend though Becky is no longer feeling up to it. She and her uncle Alan have unique traditions that are not meant for other ears to hear. It shouldn't take to long for Becky to speak with Alan." Two Brains exclaimed. Henry seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of his boyfriends' words and decided to help cover for him. "It's a strange but endearing characteristic that my boyfriend's family has. They like to keep their personal businesses private, even if it is just regular, family matters." Henry added. Gabriel looked a bit confused but quickly shook it off for now. "If you say so, Henry." He then turned to Dr. Two Brains. "So your brother is dating Dr. Mann?" Gabriel asked Two Brains shook his head. "No, Alan is dating Hugh, but he isn't my brother. He is technically my brother-in-law. He is Becky's mom's sibling." The mad scientist corrected. In what seemed to be a short amount of time, Becky returned inside. "Hey, kiddo. How did your talk with Uncle Alan go on the phone?" Dr. Two Brains inquired. Becky greeted her dad with a smile but Two Brains and Henry could tell that it was faked. "It went well, but he wanted me to let you know to turn on your phone. Hugh and the other four have been trying to reach you and see how you were doing." Becky respond. Two Brains looked embarrassed and quickly pulled out his phone to turn it on. His eyes widened as he saw the missed calls. "Oops. Sorry. I turned my phone off because I was having a conversation with Henry and didn't want to be disturbed." Two Brains exclaimed. @unhingedexperimenter

#the glass scientists #tgs au #tgs rp

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