#yeah i like dragons heaven

[personostient]

Hello! I love your art! I just wanted to ask, are your mechs with pilots inspired by Dragon's Heaven per chance?

and Appleseed and Akira and Tsutomi Nihei and No Guns Life and FLCL and Evangelion and DARLING in The FRANXX (shut up) and Country Without Humans and and and....

[todayisafridaynight]

[raayllum]

So the clue is a creepy ass cover of "Ring around the rosie," a childhood nursery rhyme about the Bubonic Plague / Black Death. Here the lyrics pictured:

"Ring around the rosie Pocket of full of posie Ashes, ashes"

stopping before the infamous "we all fall down." When you lighten the photo, there is also a picture of wilted rose.

This clue was also released very purposefully and pointedly at midnight, and the release being at midnight was built up. Therefore:

6x08 has to do with Aaravos' history with Elarion

The poem detailing the history of Elarion and his involvement with dark magic is called "The Midnight Star"

Elarion is routinely referred to as a flower/bloom

The Flowers of Elarion is a story in Tales of Xadia shared between Katolis and Moonshadow elves, specifically. It is the only story in TOX to have a dual narrative treatment.

Flowers of Elarion are left as a gift in exchange for stealing by an unfortunate elven thief stranded on the human side after the Exile.

The flowers, unbeknownst to them, turn to ash in the morning. "They never knew their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade"

Instead, Lasair intended for them to be "a fair exchange of beloved for beloved" whenever they had to take something important/precious from a family

A wilted rose is also a symbol of dead/dying romance

Either all of this symbolism is going to be woven into Aaravos' backstory (dark magic being a gift and a curse, something that takes more than it ultimately gives) quite easily, leading to Elarion's fall as a city and perhaps Aaravos' own fall, too. If it is tied to the present, I expect it to be tied to our respective Katolis mage and Moonshadow elf, for well, reasons I don't think I have to elaborate on. Either way, it's shaping up to be an incredible episode with some very cool symbolism and deep lore, and I am prepared to be emotionally devastated.

[astrxealis]

hi 🤓 <- person who finally listened to hozier's too sweet and is listening quite literally nonstop

[procrastiel]

From calling them peanut butter & chocolate to ‘I wouldn’t mind being sandwiched between David and Michael’… love allllll the way

Even Neil ships David and Michael!

[solxamber]

How to Tame Your Dragon - Malleus Draconia x reader

Since you and Malleus have gotten into a relationship, you've become a bona-fide dragon soother. But whenever you fumble, the entirety of NRC faces the consequences.

aka the 7 times you cause ecological disasters and the 1 time it works out for you.

this is one of my favorite works i hope y'all enjoy it too

Instance 1: The Unbirthday Party Fumble

It all started so innocently, as most disasters do.

You were sitting on a bench in the gardens with Malleus, who was in one of his "look at my shiny things" moods. He had decided to show you his prized possessions from his extensive, possibly cursed, hoard. Usually, this was an easy gig. You’d nod, say something like “Wow, so shiny,” and then give him a kiss. Easy peasy.

But not today.

Because today, your brain decided to take a little vacation while your body stayed behind, stuck on autopilot.

You were half-paying attention, your focus more on the distant ruckus over at Heartslabyul’s tea party, where Ace and Deuce were most definitely in the middle of doing something stupid. Riddle was probably screaming about proper fork placement, Trey was juggling a thousand responsibilities, and Cater was... doing whatever Cater does.

You could hear the faint sounds of plates clinking and people panicking about the sugar cubes being uneven. It was practically a symphony of disaster waiting to happen.

Meanwhile, Malleus was holding up what looked like a teapot. But not just any teapot—this thing was ornate. Gleaming, intricate patterns, probably blessed by some ancient fae god of beverages. You didn’t notice any of that, though.

Instead, when Malleus asked in his deep, romantic, “I’m-giving-you-a-piece-of-my-soul” voice, “Do you like it, my treasure?” you waved him off like he’d just shown you a half-eaten sandwich.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Looks fine.”

Silence.

Not just any silence. The kind of silence where the air pressure changes and you suddenly realize you might’ve done something very, very bad.

You blinked, finally looking over at Malleus, and oh no. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pursed, and a shadow seemed to fall over him—literally. The sky darkened as if the heavens were in on his mood. His grip on the teapot tightened, and you could swear the wind started to howl.

Oh, no no no.

The moment you realized your mistake, the storm was already brewing. Quite literally. The sky went from clear to “about to smite someone” in about two seconds flat. You could feel the temperature drop, and leaves started swirling around like they were auditioning for a role in a natural disaster movie.

You were in for it now.

Meanwhile, at the world’s most cursed tea party:

Riddle was just getting ready to pour the first cup of tea when the wind decided to yeet the tablecloth right off the table. Teacups clattered, pastries took flight, and the entire garden descended into chaos.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE QUEEN’S LAWS—” Riddle screamed, clutching a teapot like it was his last lifeline.

Ace, currently dodging a rogue scone, looked over at the sky. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Is this a Malleus thing?”

Deuce, who was using a sugar bowl as a makeshift helmet, shouted over the wind. “It’s always a Malleus thing! Why do I even ask anymore?!”

Cater, hair blown sideways and desperately trying to keep his phone in hand, was trying to snap a selfie in the chaos. “Guys, this is prime MagiCam content—wait, no, my phone’s gone!” He dove after it as it got carried away in the wind.

Riddle, already on the verge of a meltdown, turned to Trey, who was trying to shield a cake from the incoming storm. “I demand an explanation!”

Trey, forever the calm one, glanced up. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say the prefect did something to upset Malleus.”

“OF COURSE, THEY DID,” Riddle shrieked, practically levitating with fury. “Why do we suffer every time they breathe near him?!”

“I don’t know, but we need to fix it before Riddle explodes!” Ace said, dodging a flying plate.

Deuce grabbed Ace’s arm. “We need to talk to them! Make them apologize or something!”

And so, in the middle of the flying teapots and pastries of doom, the group sprinted to find you, dodging airborne desserts and Riddle’s wrath.

Back at the epicenter of destruction:

You were still sitting there, eyes wide as you watched Malleus literally brood so hard it summoned a small hurricane. “Uh, Malleus…?”

He didn’t respond. Nope, he was fully in Pouty Dragon Mode™. The sky darkened even more, the wind howling, the trees bending, and you could faintly hear the sound of Ace, Deuce, and the others screaming in the distance.

Your casual dismissal of the teapot had, quite literally, ruined lives.

Before you could say anything else, the chaos squad came barreling toward you like a human avalanche, looking like they’d been through a war zone.

Ace was covered in frosting, Deuce had bits of shattered china stuck in his hair, and Trey was holding onto what looked like the remnants of a cake stand. Cater was still trying to get a selfie in, even though he looked like he’d been through a tornado.

“FIX. THIS.” Ace wheezed, dropping to his knees dramatically. “BEFORE WE ALL DIE.”

“Riddle’s about to combust,” Deuce added, his eyes wide. “Please. We’re begging you.”

Trey just gave you a calm look. “If you don’t make this right soon, I don’t know if we’ll make it to the end of the day.”

You sighed, realizing there was no escape. You’d have to face the storm—literally—and make things right.

Turning back to Malleus, you slid off the bench and stood in front of him, gently tugging on his sleeve. “Malleus?”

His eyes, still stormy, met yours, but he didn’t say anything. The wind continued to howl, the sky still dark.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, your voice soft and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your teapot. It’s beautiful, really. I was just…distracted.”

Malleus’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the wind died down just a little. Progress.

“I’d never intentionally dismiss something that’s important to you,” you continued, taking his hand in yours. “Please forgive me? I’ll pay more attention next time, I promise.”

The storm finally started to calm as Malleus’s expression softened. The sky cleared up, and the wind turned into a gentle breeze.

He sighed dramatically, though it was more theatrical than anything. “Very well, my treasure. I suppose I can forgive you this time. But you owe me proper attention.”

Relieved, you grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I give you all the attention you want right now?”

That did it. The storm completely vanished, and Malleus’s mood visibly brightened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a possessive, yet affectionate embrace. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head.

Behind you, the chaos squad groaned.

“Oh, sure,” Ace said, rolling his eyes. “One cute kiss, and suddenly the hurricane stops. What even is our life?”

“Let’s just never bring up teapots again,” Deuce muttered, shaking bits of pastry out of his hair.

Cater, who had finally managed to get a decent selfie, grinned. “Well, at least we survived!”

You chuckled as Malleus nuzzled into your hair, clearly pleased with your apology. At least for now, disaster had been averted. But something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d have to apologize for accidentally setting off your dragon boyfriend.

But hey, at least you had kisses to fix everything, right?

Instance 2: The compliment conundrum

It started as one of those innocent slip-ups—the kind that makes you wonder why you even opened your mouth in the first place. You were lounging by the side of the spelldrive field, watching NRC’s teams practice. Malleus, busy handling his own royal duties, hadn’t been able to make it to practice today, so you’d spent the afternoon watching Leona and his squad dominate the field.

It wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong. You were just… appreciating talent, right? And Leona was talented. You couldn’t help but admire the way he effortlessly dodged tackles, sending spells whizzing through the air with precision. The guy was annoying, sure, but he had undeniable skill.

So when you casually mentioned to Jack and Ruggie, “Man, Leona’s got some impressive moves,” you thought nothing of it.

Until you felt the ground crack beneath you.

You froze mid-sentence, glancing around as a creeping, eerie silence settled over the field. The other players stopped in their tracks, confusion spreading across their faces. The once lush, green training grounds were slowly transforming before your very eyes—the grass yellowing, the soil drying, the sky dimming. It was like nature had collectively decided, Nope, we’re out.

Jack blinked at the ground, then at you, his eyes wide with dawning horror. “Did… Did you just—?”

Ruggie, a master of putting two and two together, slapped his hand to his face. “Oh, no. Not again.”

Before you could even ask what was happening, you heard the faintest sound of rumbling in the distance, like some ancient, angry being had woken up from its nap. And that’s when the full weight of your mistake hit you.

You’d praised Leona. And Malleus, who was more possessive than a dragon guarding his hoard, definitely heard you.

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, already starting to backpedal. “Oh, crap, crap, crap—”

The drought spread faster, draining every last drop of moisture from the air. The once-pristine spelldrive field now looked like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic desert movie. Cracks snaked across the ground, the once-refreshing breeze now felt like it was straight out of the Sahara, and the remaining players started wheezing from the dry heat.

Leona, of course, was the first to piece things together. He sauntered over, glancing at the parched earth beneath his feet, then back up at you with a deadly glare.

You tried to stammer out an excuse, but Ruggie was already grabbing your arm and yanking you toward the nearest path off the field. Jack, looking somewhere between worried and resigned, trailed after you.

“Listen,” Ruggie said in a panic, “we gotta fix this now, or the whole school’s gonna turn into a wasteland.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you protested as they half-dragged you across the desertified landscape. “It was just a compliment!”

“You can’t just compliment Leona when you’re dating Malleus!” Jack huffed, sweat dripping from his forehead as the oppressive heat intensified. “You should know better by now!”

You felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple as you tried to keep up with their frantic pace. “I didn’t know he was that possessive!”

“Oh, he is,” Ruggie muttered, glancing nervously at the sky. “And he’s sulking. You know what that means.”

You groaned. Yes, you did know what that meant. A sulking Malleus equaled world-ending storms, natural disasters, and in this case—apocalyptic droughts.

Leona, who had followed you guys, clearly had enough of this nonsense. He stomped up behind you, glaring daggers. “You’ve ruined my field,” he growled, voice dripping with irritation. “Do me a favor and never say anything nice about me again.”

“Don’t worry, Leona,” you sighed, exasperated. “I’ll only insult you from now on. Promise.”

“Good,” Leona grumbled, adjusting his collar. “Now fix your dragon before I lose my mind.”

By the time you reached Malleus, the situation had reached catastrophic levels. The entire island felt like it was one sunny day away from turning into a desert. The sky was an angry, cloudless blue, and even the birds had fled, probably deciding they didn’t want to risk spontaneous combustion.

And there, in the middle of the courtyard, sat your dragon boyfriend, arms crossed, looking as grumpy as you’d ever seen him. His aura was practically radiating misery.

“Malleus,” you called out, panting from the trek across the sun-baked campus.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge your presence, but didn’t say a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, and you could practically see the pout written all over his face.

Ruggie gave you a light shove. “Well, go on. Apologize before we all die of thirst.”

You shot him a look, but he wasn’t wrong. Sighing, you stepped closer to Malleus and knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He huffed, his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead. “You praised another.”

“I didn’t realize it was such a big deal,” you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

Malleus remained silent for a moment, but you could feel his mood softening. The tension in the air eased ever so slightly, the heat less intense, the grass no longer crumbling beneath your feet.

“I don’t like sharing your admiration,” he murmured, still not quite looking at you. “Especially with him.”

“Leona’s not a threat,” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “He’s too busy napping to notice, anyway.”

That earned a tiny smirk from Malleus, though he was clearly still in sulk mode. You couldn’t help but smile as you nuzzled into his neck, placing little butterfly kisses along his jawline. “Come on… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll praise you for hours if you want. No one is more worthy of my compliments than you.”

That finally did the trick. His stiff posture relaxed, and he let out a deep sigh. “Very well,” he murmured, turning his head to look at you. “I suppose I can forgive you… this time.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Malleus, now fully basking in your affection, wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head. The sky finally returned to normal, the air cooling down, and the earth itself seemed to let out a relieved sigh.

Meanwhile, back on the now-saved-from-death spelldrive field, Leona collapsed onto the cracked ground with an annoyed grunt. “I swear, if they ever break up, I’m moving to a different continent.”

“Honestly, same,” Ruggie groaned, lying down beside him. Jack just nodded in agreement, too tired to even complain.

But as the world finally returned to normal, and you cuddled up against your not-so-grumpy-anymore dragon boyfriend, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—you’d be more careful with your compliments from now on.

…Maybe.

Instance 3: Dinner Downpour

It had started out as an innocent evening. Just you, Malleus, and a nice dinner at the Mostro Lounge. You figured it was a good idea—a cozy meal, some quiet time away from the usual chaos. Plus, Malleus had never been to the Lounge before, and you wanted to show him a little piece of what passed for fine dining at NRC.

Everything was going smoothly. The candlelight cast a soft glow over the table, and Malleus seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he occasionally side-eyed the giant aquariums and questionable dishes swimming in ink. You were halfway through your meal when it happened. The moment that would soon be known as The Great Mostro Lounge Flood of the Century.

Malleus, eyes warm and his tone utterly princely, leaned toward you as the waiter left the bill on the table. “Allow me to cover this,” he said, reaching for his wallet—or whatever it was that dragons carry their horde in. “I would like to treat you.”

You, not sensing the danger, waved him off with a smile. “No need, Malleus. I’ve got this.”

Oh no.

If you could rewind time, maybe you would’ve noticed the way his expression faltered ever so slightly. The tiniest furrow of his brow, the faint tightening of his grip on his silverware. But you didn’t. You were oblivious. You, poor unfortunate soul, paid the bill yourself.

And that’s when the first clap of thunder rolled through the building.

It didn’t take long for things to go from zero to we’re-all-gonna-die levels of chaos. The sky outside darkened almost instantly, rain pouring down like the heavens had just decided to empty all their buckets at once. But it wasn’t just rain—oh no, this was a full-blown, hurricane-tier downpour. Lightning flashed, illuminating the shocked faces of the Mostro Lounge patrons as water started seeping in through the windows.

Inside, chaos erupted. The once-elegant ambiance of the Mostro Lounge turned into something out of a disaster movie. Jade was frantically trying to keep the dining area dry with what looked like twenty towels, but the water just kept rising. Floyd was sitting on top of a table, cackling at the sheer absurdity of it all, while Azul was on the verge of a mental breakdown, clutching his ledger to his chest as if it could somehow save him from bankruptcy.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Azul’s voice broke through the chaos as he practically teleported to your side, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a maraca.

“I—I don’t know!” you stammered, still processing the fact that the place was flooding. “We were just having dinner!”

“Oh, you were ‘just having dinner,’” Azul mocked, his voice climbing an octave as the water level rose past your ankles. “Sure, just dinner—and now I’m watching my profits swim away!”

Jade appeared next, a suspiciously calm smile on his face despite the absolute catastrophe around him. “You didn’t happen to upset the prince of Briar Valley, did you?”

Floyd leaned in, grinning like a maniac. “Yeah, did ya snub him or somethin’? This is hilarious.”

Your face paled. Oh no. You replayed the scene in your head—the offer to pay, your refusal—and realization hit you like one of the lightning bolts currently striking outside. “Oh my god. He’s upset because I didn’t let him pay.”

“That’s it?!” Floyd burst out laughing, clutching his sides. “All this ‘cause you didn’t let him foot the bill? Man, that’s rich!”

Azul’s eye twitched. “Fix. This. Now.”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal!” you protested, feeling the water slosh against your calves as the storm outside intensified. “I just wanted to treat him for once!”

“Clearly, that was a mistake,” Jade said, entirely too serene for someone standing in knee-deep water. “I suggest you… rectify it.”

“Rectify it,” Azul echoed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Or I swear I’ll have you and your little dragon both in debt until you’re ancient fossils.”

Floyd, still howling with laughter, gave you a light shove toward the entrance. “Better hurry, Shrimpy, before we gotta start charging people for canoe rentals!”

You rushed outside, braving the storm as the winds whipped around you. The ground was already flooded, rain pelting down so hard you could barely see two feet in front of you. But there, standing in the middle of it all like some tragic figure from a gothic romance novel, was Malleus.

He wasn’t even trying to shield himself from the rain—he just stood there, soaked, staring up at the stormy sky as if summoning the wrath of the heavens. His mood was palpable, the air around him crackling with discontent.

“Malleus!” you called out, running over and nearly slipping in a puddle. “Malleus, wait!”

He glanced down at you, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes quickly masked by his usual regal composure. “I thought… I could treat you. It seems you do not trust me to do even that.”

You winced. He wasn’t angry, not really. He was hurt. You should’ve known better—Malleus was always thinking about how to show you he cared, and this was just one more way for him to do that. And you’d brushed him off without realizing the significance.

“Hey, that’s not it at all,” you said softly, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “I just… I wanted to treat you this time. But I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”

The storm rumbled ominously overhead, but you could feel his mood starting to shift.

You squeezed his hands, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Malleus. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t appreciate it. You always take such good care of me.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing from his posture. “I simply wished to show you how much I treasure our time together.”

“And I treasure you,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “So how about this—I’ll let you treat me next time. Dinner, ice cream, whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “You promise?”

“I promise,” you replied, kissing him again for good measure. “But for now, maybe we could, uh… ease up on the weather a bit? I think Azul’s about to have a heart attack.”

Malleus chuckled softly, the storm clouds above beginning to break apart as the rain slowed to a drizzle. “Very well. I shall spare them—for now.”

Back inside the Lounge, Azul was clinging to his precious ledger like a lifeline, watching with wide eyes as the floodwaters slowly receded. The place was still a soaked mess, but at least it wasn’t Atlantis anymore.

Floyd, leaning against the bar, gave you a lazy grin as you walked back in, hand-in-hand with Malleus. “Well, looks like you managed to cool down your dragon, huh? Good job, Shrimpy.”

Jade smiled pleasantly, though you could tell there was relief in his gaze. “The Lounge owes you a great debt.”

Azul, drenched and looking like he’d aged ten years, just sighed. “Please. Next time… just let him pay.”

You grinned sheepishly. “Noted.”

Malleus, still holding your hand, glanced down at you with a fond expression. “Shall we continue our evening?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection, even if he had almost accidentally drowned the entire restaurant. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And as you left the Mostro Lounge, water still dripping from the ceiling and Floyd’s laughter echoing behind you, you couldn’t help but think that for all the chaos that came with dating the prince of Briar Valley, it was worth every second.

Instance 4: Deserted Dreams

It all started with an innocent suggestion over breakfast. You and Malleus were sitting at your usual spot in Diasomnia, peacefully munching on breakfast. Things were nice, calm—Malleus was in a good mood, the sun was shining, and there hadn’t been any catastrophic magical incidents for a solid two days.

But, of course, you just had to ruin it.

"So," you said, casually buttering a slice of toast, "I was thinking… maybe for our next vacation, instead of going to Briar Valley again, we could head over to the Scalding Sands? I heard Kalim raving about the heat and all the festivals, and I thought it might be fun to experience a little warmth for a change."

Malleus, who had been sipping his tea, froze. He looked at you, his eyes wide and a bit too intense. "The Scalding Sands?" he repeated slowly.

"Yeah, you know—sun, sand, maybe a beach or two. Something different!" You smiled, clearly not reading the massive red flags flying in the air. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, Briar Valley is great and all, but we always go there. I thought a change of scenery would be nice!"

And that, was when the Dorms of Scarabia and Diasomnia turned into a hellish desert wasteland.

It started slowly—just a bit of extra heat creeping into the room, making you fidget in your seat. Then it escalated. The temperature spiked dramatically, and before you knew it, the dorm felt like someone had thrown open the gates to the underworld and invited the sun to personally burn it all down. You swore you could hear the sound of sand shifting beneath your feet, though you were still indoors. Indoors, for crying out loud!

Malleus sat in silence, clearly displeased. His usual dark, moody aura was now tinged with the kind of slow-boiling frustration that made you realize: you’d made a huge mistake.

Just as you were about to apologize and backpedal your way out of the desertification of Diasomnia and Scarabia, a loud crash echoed from outside, followed by a chorus of complaints.

You stepped out of the dorm and were met with chaos. The whole area around Diasomnia had transformed into an arid, sweltering desert. The grass? Gone. The trees? Withered. The nice, cool breeze that used to blow through? Now replaced by blistering heat waves. Students were dragging themselves around, sweating profusely as the once lush grounds became a scorching wasteland.

At the heart of the chaos stood Kalim, as cheerful as ever, while a very sweaty and very done Jamil stood nearby, looking like he had reached the end of his rope.

Jamil spotted you immediately and marched over, steam practically rising off his skin. “What did you do?!” he hissed, looking like he was five seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

"I—" you stammered, glancing at Kalim, who was happily waving a fan like he was at a resort.

"Isn’t this great?!" Kalim chirped, smiling ear to ear. "It feels just like home! Now we can have all the desert parties we want! Thanks for the heatwave!"

You blinked. "Um… you’re welcome?"

"No," Jamil interjected, glaring at you like you’d personally set him on fire. “Don’t thank them! What possessed you to turn Scarabia into a furnace?!”

You grimaced, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s not my fault! I just suggested we vacation in the Scalding Sands instead of Briar Valley and—"

"You did what?!" Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. "So because you didn’t want to vacation in Briar Valley, this happens? Do you know how long it’s going to take to get the dorm back to normal? Or the fact that I’m now stuck babysitting Kalim in what feels like the surface of the sun?"

Kalim, still oblivious to the suffering around him, beamed. “You should make up with Malleus! Then maybe we can have two vacations!”

Jamil’s eye twitched.

It didn’t take long before you were escorted (dragged) back to Malleus, courtesy of a very sunburned Jamil and a still-chipper Kalim. They deposited you at the door to Diasomnia, giving you the kind of look that screamed fix this, or we’ll make you regret it.

Sighing, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, it was even hotter indoors than it had been outside. Malleus was sitting in the corner of the common room, his arms crossed and his gaze distant, like he was contemplating the deep mysteries of life—or brooding over your vacation suggestion. Probably the latter.

“Malleus?” you called softly, approaching him carefully as the air around him practically sizzled with residual magic.

He didn’t respond, still looking like a dragon that had just been told his gold stash was getting replaced with copper coins.

You sighed and knelt down in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you said, resting a hand on his knee. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just thought it’d be nice to see a new place, but if you want to go back to Briar Valley, that’s totally fine. We can go wherever you want.”

Malleus blinked, finally looking down at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You wished to travel somewhere unfamiliar,” he murmured, his voice low. “I should have taken your desires into account. But… the thought of you preferring another land over mine… it unsettled me.”

You blinked. “Wait, is that what this is about? Malleus, I love Briar Valley! I just wanted to try something new, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to go back. We could go anywhere, and I’d be happy as long as I’m with you.”

He softened even more, the heat in the room fading as his magic began to relax. “You mean that?”

You smiled and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Of course I do.”

His arms, once tense, reached out to pull you into his lap, holding you close as if the idea of you slipping away to some other land without him had weighed far too heavily on his mind. You snuggled into him, feeling the last traces of heatwave melt away into nothing but warmth and comfort.

Malleus nuzzled his face into your hair, his voice a soft rumble. “Then we shall go wherever your heart desires. As long as we are together.”

You chuckled, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Okay, deal. But, uh, maybe we avoid any more heatwave-related disasters? Jamil might actually combust next time.”

Malleus chuckled softly, his mood lightening as he held you close. “Very well. I shall spare them from further torment… this time.”

And as you cuddled into him, the remnants of the desert wasteland outside slowly returning to normal, you couldn’t help but think that as long as you had Malleus (and could keep him happy), the world—weather catastrophes included—would be just fine.

Instance 5: Fashion Fiasco

You and Malleus were at one of Vil’s fashion shows, sitting in the audience with everyone else as Vil strutted his stuff on the runway, looking absolutely flawless as per usual. The lights sparkled, the music boomed, and Vil practically radiated beauty and grace in an outfit that could only be described as something plucked straight from a dream.

"Wow," you breathed, eyes wide as you watched Vil pose dramatically at the end of the runway. "Vil really does look amazing, doesn’t he? Like, how is anyone supposed to compete with that level of perfection?"

Malleus, sitting beside you, went absolutely still.

It didn’t register right away. You were too busy marveling at Vil’s next ensemble to notice Malleus stiffening beside you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But as the next model waltzed down the runway, you felt a sudden chill in the air. Literally.

You blinked. Was it just you, or was it… colder? You glanced up at the ceiling, frowning as tiny snowflakes started to drift down from nowhere. The air grew icy, your breath visible as the temperature plummeted in mere seconds.

"What the—" You stood up, just in time to see the entire fashion show being transformed into a literal winter wonderland. Snow was now falling heavily, frosting over the runway, the lights, and, most importantly, Vil’s perfect hair.

The shriek that followed was one of pure, unbridled horror.

“No! My HAIR!” Vil screeched, desperately clutching his head as snowflakes clung to his golden locks, which were slowly wilting under the weight of the ice. “This is a disaster!”

Models fled the scene, their designer clothes dragging through snowdrifts that were rapidly accumulating on stage. The music cut off, the audience panicked, and Vil looked like he was about five seconds away from declaring the end of the world.

Amidst the chaos, Rook Hunt stood in the middle of the snowy storm, spinning in circles with glee. “Magnifique!” he cried, twirling with open arms as if he were auditioning for a Broadway production of Frozen. “The raw beauty of nature meets the elegance of fashion—oh, how the world has blessed us with this miracle of frost!”

“ROOK!” Vil screeched again, eyes wide and wild as he tried—and failed—to maintain some sense of composure. “This is NOT a miracle! This is a CATASTROPHE! My show—my hair!”

Epel, looking somewhere between terrified and confused, rushed up to you, nearly slipping on the snow-covered floor in his haste. “We need your help!” he gasped, grabbing your arm and shaking it with the desperation of someone who knew what was at stake here. “You have to do something! Malleus is causing the storm!”

You blinked, still processing the fact that this wasn’t just some freak weather event but a full-on emotional meltdown from your very moody fae boyfriend.

“Malleus is… mad?” you asked, finally connecting the dots.

“Of course he’s mad!” Epel huffed, snowflakes clinging to his own purple hair. “You complimented Vil! Now he thinks you like Vil more than him! We’re all gonna freeze to death if you don’t fix it!”

“Oh… oh no.”

It took a few minutes (and a shove from a panicked Vil) to find Malleus, who had retreated to the far corner of the room, looking like a grumpy snow dragon with his arms crossed and snowflakes swirling around him. His expression was dark, brooding, and way too dramatic for someone who was causing a blizzard in the middle of a fashion show.

You approached cautiously, trying not to slip on the ice that was now coating the floor. “Malleus?” you called softly, inching closer. “Are you… okay?”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see you were quite taken with Vil’s appearance today.”

You blinked, a bit thrown off by the sheer seriousness in his tone. “Uh, I mean… yeah, Vil’s always beautiful. But, um, you know that’s just how he is. It’s his whole thing.”

Malleus’s frown deepened. “So you find him more beautiful than me.”

Oh. Oh.

You nearly facepalmed at the realization. “Malleus, no, that’s not what I meant!” you rushed to say, waving your hands in a flustered manner. “Vil is beautiful, but you—you’re, like, otherworldly! You know, fae beauty and all that. No one could possibly compare!”

Malleus eyed you warily, his lips pursed. “So… you do not prefer him over me?"

“Of course not!” you said quickly, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. “You’re the most beautiful person I know. No one comes close to your level of magnificence, I swear.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Then, ever so slowly, the storm began to die down. The snowflakes stopped falling, the icy chill in the air dissipated, and the temperature returned to normal. Malleus’s expression softened, his moody sulk fading as he looked down at you with a much gentler gaze.

“Is that truly how you feel?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You smiled up at him, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Of course, Malleus. You’re my favorite, always.”

Malleus visibly brightened at that, his usual regal aura returning as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a warm embrace. “Very well, then. I shall forgive this transgression. But only because you have reassured me of your affections.”

You giggled, snuggling into his chest. “I’ll make sure to tell you more often how beautiful you are.”

Vil then walks directly up to you and stares you down. "If you're done wrecking my show, could ypu please keep your dragon in check?"

All you can do is grin sheepishly at him.

Instance 6: Gaming Shenanigans

It all started because of that one last raid. You and Idia were deep in an epic gaming marathon, tackling a boss so difficult that even Idia—self-proclaimed gaming god—had to break out his limited-edition controller. It was all good fun, hours flying by without you even noticing, as you spammed attacks and worked together like the perfect gaming duo you were.

That is, until Idia hit you with a question that made your stomach drop.

"So, uh, aren't you supposed to, like... do something tonight?" Idia asked, mid-battle. His voice was a little too casual, almost like he already knew the answer but was waiting for you to figure it out yourself.

You froze for a split second, still pressing buttons but no longer fully paying attention. Something... tonight? What could he—

Oh no.

You had plans tonight. With Malleus.

Specifically, your nightly walks around campus, which had become somewhat of a ritual. Every night, you’d stroll through the darkened grounds, hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything. It was Malleus’s favorite part of the day—something he eagerly looked forward to.

And you’d… forgotten.

Your eyes darted to your phone, which was lying face down on the desk, completely ignored for the last several hours. You didn’t even need to check it to know what you’d find: missed calls, unread messages, probably a voicemail or two from Malleus, wondering where you were.

"Oh no," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds of explosions and battle cries on screen.

"Wait, what?" Idia’s character paused for a second as he glanced at you. "Did you just say 'oh no'? What 'oh no'? Are we talking minor 'oh no' or, like, 'I've-angered-a-final-boss-oh-no'?"

You gulped, heart sinking as you realized just how much trouble you were in. "Um... the second one. Definitely the second one."

Before Idia could even react, the room went dark. The power cut out so fast, you barely had time to process it. The glow of the screens, the hum of electronics—all gone, leaving only the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window.

Idia's horrified gasp echoed through the sudden silence.

"No. No, no, no, no, no—this can’t be happening! We were in the middle of a raid!” His hands flew to his hair, the blue flames flickering wildly as panic set in. "Dude, you forgot your dragon?!"

The color drained from your face as the gravity of the situation fully hit. “I—um—got distracted?”

Idia’s eyes widened, and he stood up so fast his chair rolled backwards. "Distracted?! You forgot about your nightly walks with the dragon fae, and now we’re sitting in a power outage caused by his emotional spiral?!”

In the faint glow of Idia’s flame-lit hair, you saw Ortho zip into the room, looking far too calm given the circumstances. “I detected a sudden shift in weather patterns around campus. It seems like the storm has caused a widespread blackout. Should I assume it’s related to Malleus Draconia’s emotional state?”

"YES!" Idia practically screeched, pointing at you in betrayal. "They ditched Malleus for gaming, and now we’re all suffering the consequences! Ortho, tell them to fix it, please! I beg you!”

Ortho turned to you with his usual chipper smile. “I suggest you go to Malleus and make amends before the entire campus loses power. I’ve already calculated a 98% chance that further emotional distress will result in structural damage to the dorm.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is why you never piss off boss-level boyfriends. It’s just common sense.”

So, that’s how you found yourself trudging through the stormy night, rain soaking your clothes as you made your way to find Malleus. The lightning flashed overhead, thunder rumbling ominously as you approached the usual meeting spot for your nightly walks.

And there he was—standing alone, looking very much like the picture of heartbreak. His tall figure was framed by the pouring rain, his expression a perfect blend of hurt and brooding. The storm seemed to swirl around him, almost as if it were a physical manifestation of his emotions.

“Malleus,” you called out, rushing toward him, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain. “I’m so sorry!”

He turned slowly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “You did not answer my calls.”

“I know, I know! I got caught up in a game with Idia, and I didn’t check my phone, and—well, now we have a blackout.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You left me waiting, and the storm came.”

You winced, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to forget about our walk. I love spending time with you—I swear.”

Malleus let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “I do not wish to be a burden to you.”

“Burden?” you echoed, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, the rain pouring down between you. “Malleus, you’re not a burden. I love our walks. I love spending time with you. I just… lost track of time. That’s all.”

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound being the rain hitting the ground. Then, to your surprise, Malleus looked away, a faint hint of vulnerability in his expression. “Do you… truly mean that?”

Without thinking, you reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands. “Of course I do. There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

Malleus’s gaze softened further, and slowly—so slowly—the storm began to quiet. The rain lessened, the wind died down, and the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the campus lifted. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face as if looking for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he finally let out a soft chuckle, the corners of his mouth turning up in a faint smile.

“You always manage to calm me,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You smiled back, feeling warmth spread through your chest despite the cold rain. “I guess I’m just good at soothing dragons.”

Malleus raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps.”

The rain had stopped entirely by now, leaving only a light mist in the air. You let out a relieved sigh, brushing some stray raindrops off Malleus’s cheek before standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’ll never forget our walks again,” you whispered against his lips, earning a quiet hum of approval from him.

“I shall hold you to that,” he replied, his voice warm with affection. “Now, shall we take that walk?”

You nodded, intertwining your fingers with his. The world felt calmer now, the storm gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight breaking through the clouds. Malleus’s mood had lifted entirely, and as the two of you strolled through the now-quiet campus, you couldn’t help but feel content.

And, of course, Idia and Ortho’s screens flickered back to life, much to their relief.

Instance 7: Dessert Disaster

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were about to partake in a picnic with none other than Malleus, Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. Everything was perfect. The blanket was laid out beneath a sprawling tree, food arranged carefully across it—courtesy of Malleus himself, who had spent hours in the kitchen the night before, preparing what he considered to be the pièce de résistance: a pie.

Not just any pie. No, this was a Malleus Draconia-crafted masterpiece. The filling was made from rare berries he’d harvested himself, the crust baked to a perfect golden brown. You could practically smell the love (and maybe a little lightning) that had gone into it.

Malleus, with a glint of pride in his eyes, carefully handed you a slice. "I hope it meets your expectations, my love."

You eagerly took a bite, eyes widening as the flavors exploded on your tongue. It was amazing. No, better than amazing—it was downright phenomenal. How did he even manage to bake something this good? A prince of darkness and a master chef? This was unfair.

"This slaps," you declared, totally unaware of the impending doom those words were about to unleash.

The moment the words left your mouth, you noticed a visible shift in Malleus’s expression. The proud smile he’d worn just seconds ago faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. His green eyes darkened, clouds suddenly appearing overhead. You could feel the electricity in the air as the temperature dropped.

"I see," Malleus murmured, voice tight. "So… you dislike it."

Wait. What?

You blinked, realization dawning far too slowly. Oh no.

Before you could correct him, Malleus was already raising his hand, a faint crackle of magic sparking between his fingers. You could practically hear the thunder rumbling in the distance as he stared down at the pie slice in your hand, preparing to smite the poor, innocent pastry.

"No, no, no, no—wait!" You waved your arms frantically, standing up so fast you nearly tripped over the picnic blanket.

Sebek, meanwhile, had already leapt to his feet, eyes blazing with righteous fury. "How dare you insult Master Malleus’s baking?!" he shouted, fists clenched. "His skill is unmatched, and yet you have the audacity to call his creation—"

"Sebek." Silver’s voice, calm but firm, interrupted the impending tirade. He was still sitting, but his eyes were half-open now, watching the situation unfold with mild concern. "They didn’t mean it that way."

Lilia, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was absolutely delighted by the chaos unfolding, his laughter ringing out across the clearing. "Oh, this is too good!" he cackled, practically rolling on the blanket. "I haven’t seen this much excitement at a picnic in centuries! You modern humans and your strange expressions never fail to entertain!"

You shot him a look that screamed, Please stop encouraging this.

Silver, bless his soul, finally spoke up again, this time turning his attention to you. "You might want to explain before the weather gets worse." He nodded toward the now very ominous-looking clouds gathering above Malleus.

Right. Explaining. You could do that.

You turned back to Malleus, who still looked like he was contemplating whether to zap the pie or not. You could tell his feelings were hurt—his brow was furrowed, his lips set in a tight line. And the thought of him feeling like that, all because of a misunderstanding, made your heart clench.

"Malleus," you said, stepping closer and reaching for his hand. "When I said ‘this slaps,’ I meant it’s really good. Like, insanely good. Amazing. Best pie I’ve ever had."

Malleus’s stormy expression faltered slightly, though the dark clouds remained. "But you said it ‘slaps.’"

"That’s modern slang," you explained, gently squeezing his hand. "It’s a compliment. I promise."

Malleus blinked, the magic at his fingertips dissipating as he processed your words. "So… you enjoyed it?"

"Absolutely. You knocked it out of the park with this pie." You gave him your most reassuring smile. "I could eat the whole thing."

The storm clouds began to thin, sunlight peeking through once more. Malleus tilted his head, considering this new information, and slowly—very slowly—a smile returned to his face.

"It pleases me to hear that," he said, his voice softening.

Meanwhile, Sebek was still standing there, sputtering indignantly. "W-Well, if that’s what they meant, then… of course Master Malleus’s pie is the best! I knew that all along!"

Lilia, still chuckling, waved a dismissive hand at Sebek. "Oh, calm down, boy. No harm done. Besides, now we know modern slang! What other fascinating phrases do you have, I wonder?"

Silver sighed, finally sitting up properly. "Maybe let’s avoid any more slang for today."

With the situation calming down, you took the opportunity to lean in closer to Malleus, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "I’m really sorry for the confusion," you murmured. "You’re an amazing baker, and your pie is delicious. I meant that, okay?"

Malleus’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the affection, and he gave a small nod. "I believe you."

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you pressed another kiss to his lips, slow and tender, savoring the warmth of his skin and the way his hand gently squeezed yours in return. The last of the clouds above you finally cleared, leaving the sky blue and bright once more. The storm was over, and everything was at peace again.

"Shall we enjoy the rest of our picnic, then?" Malleus asked, his voice much lighter now.

You nodded enthusiastically, sitting back down beside him. "Absolutely. And just so we’re clear—your food? Total banger."

Malleus raised a brow, clearly still unfamiliar with the term but now much more accepting of your strange modern ways. "I see. I shall take that as a compliment."

Sebek, still recovering from his earlier outrage, grumbled something under his breath, but you didn’t care. Lilia was still snickering, Silver was finally getting comfortable again, and Malleus was happy. Everything was right in the world.

And hey, now you knew—if you ever wanted to spice things up at a picnic, all it took was a little modern slang.

Instance 8: Destruction of NRC (Well, almost)

Crowley’s “magnanimous nature” was, quite frankly, killing you. Whether it was sorting mountains of paperwork, being sent on endless errands, or handling Grim’s regular chaos, you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached, your eyes had dark circles deeper than any pit, and you were pretty sure you were on your third day of functioning on nothing but caffeine and sheer spite.

Grim, bless his fiery little heart, watched you from his perch on your bed, tail flicking in irritation as you barely managed to drag yourself into Ramshackle after another long, thankless day.

“Ugh, henchhuman! You look like death warmed over,” Grim sniffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “How long do you plan on letting that featherbrained Crowley walk all over you?”

You groaned, flopping face-first into your pillow. “As long as it takes to survive this semester, Grim. No one else is going to deal with his nonsense. Not like I have a choice.”

Grim was silent for a moment, watching you with uncharacteristic concern. Then, in a low mumble, he said, “Well, I’ve had enough. You’re my henchhuman, and I won’t let him destroy you.”

You thought Grim was just being dramatic. But when you woke up the next morning to the sound of distant thunder rumbling ominously across the sky, you had a very, very bad feeling.

By the time you made it to NRC, the situation was in full swing. You arrived just in time to witness Crowley practically on his knees, looking like a man who had stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale—barely.

The sky above NRC was pitch black, clouds swirling and crackling with magic as the wind howled through the campus. A storm of epic proportions had descended, and it wasn’t just any storm. This was a Malleus Draconia-grade storm. The kind that didn’t just bring rain or wind—it brought devastation, and everyone was cowering indoors, peeking through windows, afraid to go outside.

Crowley spotted you immediately, rushing over with his cape flapping dramatically behind him as he stumbled, nearly slipping in the mud.

“Please,” he cried, hands clutching your shoulders as if you were his last lifeline. “Please, you must calm him down! I beg of you, prefect, do something!”

You raised a brow, half-expecting some pitiful excuse, but the Headmaster, in all his avian glory, had gone straight to the begging stage. “What did you do this time?” you sighed, knowing it had to be his fault.

“I did nothing! Absolutely nothing! Well, perhaps I’ve… been a little harsh on you, but that’s no reason for him to destroy the entire campus!” Crowley wailed, looking pitiful as a gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you an actual wage! I’ll give you a budget to renovate Ramshackle, and I’ll personally sponsor your vacation! Just please—stop him before there’s nothing left of Night Raven College!”

You blinked. Did… did you just get a salary offer? And a vacation? And a renovation budget? This was new.

Before you could process the sheer absurdity of the situation, Professor Crewel passed by with his coat dramatically billowing in the wind. “Honestly,” he muttered under his breath, “about time that birdbrain faced some consequences for his incompetence.”

Professor Trein, walking with his trusty feline Lucius, shook his head gravely. “At this point, the Headmaster deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

“Do you not see the storm?!” Crowley shrieked, pointing to the lightning that was now dangerously close to striking the bell tower.

Both professors exchanged a look before continuing on their way, Crewel muttering something about how this was Crowley’s mess to fix.

You couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction seeing the Headmaster squirm. But at the same time, NRC was at risk of being blown off the map if you didn’t act soon. And judging by the way Grim was laughing maniacally in the corner, proudly declaring how he “fixed” your problems, this was going to be on you to clean up.

With a sigh, you gave Crowley a nod. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. But if you go back on any of those promises—”

“I won’t!” Crowley promised, hands clasped as if in prayer. “I swear on the very foundation of this school, you will be compensated!”

You rolled your eyes but turned on your heel to head toward Diasomnia. The storm seemed to know you were coming, the wind parting just enough to allow you passage. The moment you stepped into the courtyard, the thunder seemed to quiet, though lightning still flashed ominously in the distance.

And there, standing at the center of it all, was Malleus. His expression was dark, eyes glowing faintly as he stared up at the storm he’d summoned. His hands were clasped behind his back, and even with his composed stance, you could sense the simmering frustration beneath the surface.

You approached carefully, calling out softly, “Malleus?”

His head turned slightly at the sound of your voice, though he didn’t fully look at you. “Ah, my love. I see you’ve arrived.”

You moved closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Grim told you what’s been going on, didn’t he?”

“I cannot stand to see you work yourself to exhaustion for that foolish crow,” Malleus muttered, still staring at the storm. “He takes advantage of your kindness. It is unforgivable.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. He was genuinely upset—for you. But, you also couldn’t let NRC be reduced to rubble, and you needed to calm him down before it got worse.

With a soft chuckle, you stepped in front of him, gently cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay. I appreciate how much you care about me, but you don’t have to destroy the school over this.”

Malleus’s eyes finally met yours, the storm above softening ever so slightly. “But you’re suffering.”

“I was,” you admitted, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But not anymore. Crowley’s going to make it up to me—he promised me a wage, a renovation budget for Ramshackle, and a vacation.”

That seemed to catch his attention, the storm clouds above beginning to dissipate. “A vacation?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning up to brush another kiss against his cheek. “In fact, I was going to ask if you’d like to come with me.”

Malleus blinked, his earlier frustration melting into a look of surprise—and then, a small, pleased smile tugged at his lips. The storm overhead faded into nothing, the sky returning to its usual clear blue.

“I would be honored,” he said softly, pulling you closer to him. “A vacation, just the two of us. That sounds… delightful.”

You grinned, pressing a final kiss to his lips, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. “It’s a date, then.”

And just like that, the storm was over. NRC was safe, and more importantly, you had managed to calm your dragon—and score a well-deserved vacation in the process.

As for Crowley? Well, you’d make sure to enjoy every moment of watching him squirm while you cashed in those promises.

Masterlist

[entitled-fangirl]

Flames in snow.

Cregan Stark x Velaryon!reader

Summary: the reader and Jace go to Winterfell to gain the support of the North. Cregan is not the same little boy they met all those years ago. But his son is quite similar to his father: his hair, his eyes, his love for the reader.

A/n: based on an ask! also... part 2 in the future?

Masterlist

..................................................

"Prince, Princess," Cregan acknowledged as the Valeryon siblings entered the Hall. 

Jace grinned, his sister trailing behind him.

Cregan had not seen the family in what felt like eons, when they were small children. Now, they were adults. 

Though life had been cruel to them, it did not show. 

"Lord Stark," Jace said in a cheery notion. "I thank you for your hospitality. We are most grateful that you have housed our dragons."

Cregan nodded, stepping to them. "The honor is mine. It is not often that the future of the realm steps through Winterfell's threshold."

Cregan didn't miss the way the young woman's brow quirked up at his choice of words.

"We come in the name of Queen Rhaenyra," Jace clarified, not bothering with small talk again. "The rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Cregan looked confused, and Y/n finally spoke up. 

"Prince Aegon Targaryen II has usurped our mother's throne."

"And you are asking me if I will help fight your war, Princess?" Cregan quirked. 

She nodded.

"Let us not discuss such heavy matters while the dragon riders remain weary. Rest, and we will discuss further on the morrow."

…

The Princess walked the long halls of Winterfell, exploring it herself as the sun began to set. 

She paused her steps when she heard a small cry.

Though she was no mother, instinct kicked in, and she began to locate where it was coming from.

And she found it.

On the floor of the corridor was a young boy, not older than four. He sat and cried, the smallest bit of blood running from his knee.

She moved to him, lowering herself to the ground, "Let me see."

The boy looked up with puffy eyes, letting the woman help. 

A servant rounded the corner, her eyes widening at the sight, "Princess, please… allow me-"

"-That is quite alright. I have it handled." She declined politely. She turned back to the boy, "And what is your name?"

The boy sniffled, "R…Rickon."

Rickon. 

She'd heard that name before.

In her studies from childhood. 

Rickon Stark, the past Lord of Winterfell.

This was Cregan's son.

She let out a breath, "Oh… that's… that's a lovely name. My name is Y/n."

She helped the boy stand and the two walked slowly to the boy's chambers.

"Am I going to lose my leg?" He asked with a sniffle.

"Heavens, no. It takes much worse to best a Stark. Do you believe a mere scrape would take down your father?"

He shook his head, "Papa is strong." He gained a sudden enthusiasm, "One time, he fought a wolf! And… and he took his sword," he mimicked the motion, "and he drove it through its heart!" He looked back up to her. "Have you ever done that?"

She shook her head, "I can't say I have. I don't have a sword."

"Oh, yeah." He said glumly. "You're a girl."

She tilted her head, "Well… I may not have a sword, but I have my own weapon." She paused dramatically, "I have a dragon!"

The boy's eyes lit up, "A dragon?! Papa does not have a dragon."

"Only children with dragon blood get a dragon. You, young Stark, have wolf blood in you. That's something of importance as well."

Finally at his chambers, he slumped in one of the chairs, "But it's not like a dragon."

"No," she countered. "But if everyone had the same blood, what would make each of us special?" She grinned as she kneeled in front of his chair. "You know, dragon blood gets quite cold up here. Do you get cold, Little Lord Stark?"

He frowned and shook his head. 

"Exactly. Wolf blood does not get as chilled."

"Is your dragon here?"

She nodded.

"Can I meet him?"

"Her, sweet boy. Silverwing is a girl."

"Can I meet her?"

She tilted her head, "Maybe before I leave. Until then, let me clean you up and put you to bed."

So caught up in the conversation, he had forgotten his little scrape entirely.

…

"Might I be curious enough to ask why the Princess is roaming the castle at so late of an hour?" Came a voice.

She jumped, turning to see Lord Stark standing with a small grin on his face. "Pardon me. It's not my place to wander."

"It's quite alright. My home is yours for as long as you'll have it."

She nodded, unsure of what to say to the man.

"You've grown," he finally said.

A soft giggle escaped her throat. "We are not children anymore, my lord. I'm afraid we'll never be."

"Aye. But I dare say that is not a bad thing." He tried to hide the way his eyes flit over her frame. His body naturally stepped towards her.

"I… I was quite saddened to hear of the loss of your wife."

Cregan nodded, taking another step. "I know. You wrote me. Remember?"

A warm smile came across her face. "I'm starting to. I do not remember what I said-"

"- 'May there be warmth in the cold, and flames in snow. May you be bundled in comfort anywhere you go. If not, I will ride with my dragon high, to bring it myself when the time is nigh.' "

Her smile faltered a bit, "You remember that so clearly?"

Cregan's felt his heart jolt. "I've always remembered you clearly."

An involuntary breath left her throat. 

The two stared at one another, an obvious tension coming over them. 

"I… I shall return to my chambers," she finally whispered. 

Cregan snapped from his trance and nodded, backing away from her, "Aye. Sleep well, Princess."

"Good night."

…

Things seemed to repeat themselves, because she found Rickon again in that same hall as before. 

"Lord Rickon?"

Rickon's head turned and his face lit up.

Y/n sat next to him, looking at what he had to play with.

It was wooden horses, through beaten from its time in the little boy's hands, they were carefully carved. 

Someone made them with care.

"Might I play with you?" She asked nicely.

A horse was thrusted into her hand.

"Papa does not play with me. He does not want to," Rickon finally said.

"That's not true, boy," she tried to reason. "Your father is just… needed by many people."

"I need him."

She felt a pain in her chest at the boy's honesty.

She understood the feeling very well.

"One day, little lord, you will be just as needed as him, and you will understand. Until then, I'm afraid there's little to help ease the pain."

"You help."

A noise almost escaped her throat. "Yes, but… I am not here forever."

The young boy sighed. 

"I wish you could be."

…

The three stood around a table, trying to come to an agreement on an alliance. 

"I have troubles of the other side of the Wall to consider, my prince. I cannot afford to turn my back to it with winter approaching."

Jace sighed, "What good would guarding the Wall do if there is nothing to protect?"

"Jace," Y/n butted in, "Be reasonable."

Jace turned to her, "Sister, the queen needs an army."

"So does the Warden. He knows his people's needs better than us."

"Thank you, Princess," Cregan offers. His gaze stays on her for a second too long. "I have 2,000 graybeards at your disposal. They've seen far too many winters."

"And you'll not march with them?" Jace asked in frustration.

"I will stay until the time is right," Cregan countered. 

"Stay with Rickon, you mean?" Y/n asked softly. "You're staying behind for him, yes?"

Cregan's eyes mixed with confusion and surprise. "You…"

She flushed. "Perhaps that was too forward of me, my lord. Forgive me."

"No, you…" his eyes softened, as well as his voice. "You are the one he has been discussing so gleefully?"

The confusion shifts to her, "I'm sorry?"

"Rickon, he," Cregan lets out a soft scoff. "He has been completely enamored with someone. I didn't know who it was, I assumed a servant."

Jace turns to her, "What is he speaking of?"

"I have indeed interacted with the boy, but it has not been that life changing for him surely-"

"-My Princess, Rickon speaks of no one but you."

Rickon ran through the doors, going straight to Cregan.

Cregan abandoned the table to catch his son, raising him up in the air, "Good morning, my boy."

Rickon giggled and squirmed in his father's hold.

Cregan let him down and ruffled his hair, "Go on, Rickon. Your papa has business he must discuss."

"You will not play with me?" Rickon pouted.

The tough lord of Winterfell let out a soft breath. "Forgive me, son. Not this morning."

Rickon's eyes flit to her, and they brighten, "Will you play with me?"

"Son, that is the princess you speak to. She has little time for such things."

"No, my lord," she interrupted. "I'd… I'd quite like the change of scenery. This talk to war is getting to my head. Perhaps chats of horses will be better."

Rickon's eyes light up, and he quickly grabs her hand and drags her from the room to play.

Jace is left in bewilderment. "I had no idea."

"Neither did I."

…

A few hours later, Cregan came to collect the two.

He found them in the courtyard. 

"Rickon!" He called out.

The boy's head shot up and he gathered his things and ran to his father. 

Cregan ran a hand through Rickon's hair, noting the way the princess watched the interaction from afar. "Go wash up."

Rickon went to move, then paused. 

"Can princesses live in Winterfell, Papa?"

Cregan froze. "Why do you ask, boy?"

"The princess should live here."

Cregan smiled, "You like to play with her that much?"

"She's my favorite." And with that, Rickon went into the castle.

The princess stood, seeing Rickon leave and Cregan approach. "My lord."

"Please, princess. I would prefer you call me by my name."

"Yes, my lord."

He tilted his head.

"Cregan."

He grinned at her correction, "Much better."

Her gaze moved downwards towards the object in her hand.

Cregan followed and his breath hitched. 

One of Rickon's horses. 

"He ran off before I could return it," she admitted. 

Her fingers ran over the mane of it, and Cregan felt a fire ignite within him, but he pushed it down to speak. "There is time to return it."

"You carved it."

Cregan's head tilted, "What?"

She held it up, "You carved this. Surely you did."

He reached up and took it from her, sucking in a breath with their fingers brushed. He studied the beat up toy, as if recalling a memory. "Aye. I did."

"It's beautiful work," she commented. "You've always… been gifted."

He felt his ears turn a shade of pink. "I thank you, Princess."

When silence fell over the two, Cregan continued. "When I leave Rickon, and I journey to the Wall, I whittle these little things. It gives me something to do, and in turn, gives him a reason to want me home."

"He wants you home regardless."

Something in him broke. 

"I know."

She placed her hand over his. "You're doing the right thing."

"Then why is it so damn difficult?"

She wasn't sure what to say to that.

But she didn't miss the way his fingers shook under hers, and his eyes taking her in as if something had dawned on him.

…

The two had avoided one another after that, only speaking when necessary. 

But it all came to a close on their last day in Winterfell.

"I have a final proposition, Prince Jacaerys."

Jace's head shot up, "Name it."

"I remain Warden, the North keeps its independence as is…"

Jace was on the edge of his seat. "And?"

Cregan smiled. "I have the princess's hand."

Y/n's shoulders stiffened from beside her brother. "W…What?"

"I want your hand, Princess."

Jace was just as confused. "You… You've not stated these intentions before."

"I understand that, but that does not mean they were not there. She would make a beautiful Lady Stark."

"Cregan," she reasoned. "I could not possibly-"

"-These are my conditions." He said it persistently.

"Cregan, this is my sister we speak of, do not-"

"-Jace. Let me speak with Lord Stark."

Jace looked between the two, then excused himself.

When the door was closed, she began to speak. "What are you doing?"

"I am being sincere, my princess. I want you as my wife."

And sincere he was. Hope shone in his eyes as he looked to her. She gave a hinted smile, "And you're sure?"

His eyes shone brightly. "I've never been more sure of something in my life. You bring a light to my boy, and you're a light to me."

"Cregan, this war-"

"-You will fight with your mother, as you wish, and return to me in Winterfell when the time is right."

She studied him for a while, making him sweat despite the constant chill of his home. 

"I'm happy to marry you, Cregan. For our houses. For your son," she paused to take a breath. "For you."

A wide smile spread across his face. "You've done me a great service."

"It is not service to me," she smiled. "It is not a duty or sacrifice. It is what I want."

"Rickon shall be overjoyed."

"I'd rather you be the overjoyed one in this moment."

Cregan grinned again and moved to her, wrapping his arms around her. His voice lowered, "Trust me, I am." He paused, "You've come through on your promise, you know."

She tilted her head to look at him, "And what is that?"

" 'Flames in snow,' " he grinned as his lips brushed against hers, "You've brought me comfort in multitudes."

......................................

A/n: I have some good ideas for part 2

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[chrollogy]

EPITOME OF SIN

— zhongli x f! reader x neuvillette

syn: Neuvillette doesn’t know why he agreed to such a brazen proposal from his lover—that is, to sit and watch while the ex-Geo Archon shamelessly takes you for his pleasure.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, unprotected sex, cuckolding, masturbation (m), neuvillette being horny and overwhelmed and zhongli being a lil menace, pet name (my sweet girl). divider: cafekitsune.

word count: ~1k or less

notes: not proofread! advance apologies for any typos. idk how long i’ve had this drafted but yeah!! i got around to finally finishing it hehe.

Neuvillette always saw himself as a calm, and collected man; lilac gaze mirroring the cerulean tranquil waters of the Weeping Willow of the Lake—he was never the one to unnecessarily raise his voice nor show the expression of anger. At least that’s what his lover, you, had said to him from one’s astute observation.

So why was the Chief Justice the complete opposite right this very moment? Heart thrumming against his chest like the speed of the harsh winds in Loch Urania; blood boiling like hot vermillion lava from the volcanos of Natlan, Neuvillette seethed at the wickedly sinful sight in front of him—teeth clenched, nails digging into the poor azure fabric of the sofa beneath him. Your lover was painted crimson red, not knowing if it stemmed from anger, embarrassment, or lust.

Anger, because Neuvillette didn’t know why he had agreed to such an insane proposal. Though, insane was an understatement. He surveyed your sweat-covered naked body, rocking back and forth, back and forth from the forceful thrusts of another man—the geo archon.

Rex Lapis, Morax, Deus Auri, the usurper of the element of stone. He should be the only man sheathed beyond your walls so intimately; he should be the one pulling those saccharine moans from your soft lips; he should be the sole reason for your immense pleasure.

Embarrassment, because Neuvillette was too turned on at the sight before him to admit—though, his cock pushing against the navy slacks he donned was more than a telling sign. He was ashamed, felt absolutely filthy for getting aroused at such an outlandish sight. There were so many things wrong here and, yet Neuvillette had the audacity to be horny; he would give himself the heaviest sentence in the history of Fontaine, for heaven’s sake.

The Iudex could feel his skin prickle, diminutive sharp kisses shooting all over his heated skin, fingers wanting to claw at the unbearable itch it left behind. He felt feverish but he couldn’t take his lilac gaze away from tracing your bare body—the way it responded to the heavenly pleasure Zhongli gave.

Lust, because at the end of the day—dragon or not—Neuvillette’s body responded the same way as a human’s body would when exposed to a sexual stimuli. The Chief Justice practically gawked at his dear lover and Zhongli on the bed; mouth slightly parted, tongue ever so lightly swiping at his bottom lip in effort to satiate his growing thirst.

All Neuvillette could hear were your dulcet moans reverberating throughout his cerulean-walled quarters, the way your pretty eyes rolled back in pure bliss; brows knitted in full concentration on your impending orgasm. Oh, Neuvillette wanted to be desperately inside you but all he could do was sit there.

Sit there and watch as Zhongli sinfully fucked you with enough drive to vex your lover. Outside, the people in the Court of Fontaine began to scramble for shelter at the first signs of water droplets beginning to fall from the azure sky; grey clouds looming over the Nation of Many Waters as it prepares for a downpour.

“Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry.” Zhongli brazenly teases with a strained voice, his amber eyes glowing like gold, piercing right through Neuvillette. The latter lets out a firm sigh, nails digging further into the softness of the seat.

“Please, don’t hold yourself back, Monsieur. We’re all here to have fun, aren’t we?” the dark-haired man continues before repositioning your naked body.

Zhongli hauls you up like a rag doll, both arms secured behind your back with his hand while the other makes its way to the strands on your head. He faced you towards Neuvillette—who sat there with blown pupils, holding onto the last piece of his sanity and reputation—before pounding into you again; balls slapping against your soaked entrance with every forceful thrust.

Letting out a sweet whimper, you stare starry-eyed at your lover as his hand wanders down to the apex of his legs. Zhongli clicks his tongue as he feels you clenching around his hard cock, and holds you against his sweaty chest, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“O-oh god!” You moan out as his tip kisses the saccharine spot within your velvety walls, shocks of icy pleasure caressing your spine. If it wasn’t for Zhongli’s hold, you would have fallen onto the mattress from the sheer strength of his thrusts and the pleasure alone. The divine man behind you growls, lips situated dangerously close to your ear,

“Yeah . . ? That’s right I’m your god.” Zhongli growls, loud enough for the Hydro Sovereign to hear, his tone unrecognisable—it was a far cry from the usual smoothness of his voice.

The ivory-haired man mirrored Zhongli’s growls yet it didn’t contain the same carnal hunger as the latter, no, it was pure rage. White, hot anger seethed from Neuvillette’s sitting figure as Zhongli spoke that very sentence, what a disgrace.

The Chief Justice sat there, every fibre of his body tingling and burning with silent chaos—like the calm before a thunderous storm, serene yet brimming with such force. You vigorously nod at Zhongli’s retort, even going as far as trying to form your own coherent reply only to come out in a twist of saccharine moans.

There was no hiding the rapid rise and fall of Neuvillette’s chest despite the expensive layers of cerulean fabric he donned. The sensation was too overwhelming for him, pressure uncomfortably pressed on every dip and curve of his body to the point where he couldn’t feel anything—no, he could feel everything. Everything at once and it drove the Iudex absolutely insane.

The jealousy, the lust, the embarrassment, it weaved its way down to his very core. Neuvillette didn’t know what he wanted to do, all your lover knew was that he needed a release. Now.

Neuvillette uncomfortably shuffled atop the plush of the cerulean sofa, delicate hands moving as fast as the lightnings that scattered throughout Inazuman waters. It was beyond shameful to be acting this way, his fingers fumbling the metal zipper of his slacks.

Before you knew it, your’s and Zhongli’s moans were accompanied by Neuvillette’s sinful ones—he didn’t hold back, almost as if he had completely let go of himself, his reputation, his standing with the Lord of Geo. The Iudex of Fontaine was reduced to nothing but a common whore, shamelessly filling the walls of his own quarters with brazen moans beyond his control.

It was a sight to see. Too bad the intense jolting of your naked body from Zhongli’s forceful thrusts were getting in the way from being able to properly see your lover’s fucked out expression but the desperate strokes of his hand was enough for you—enough to let you know that Neuvillette somewhat found pleasure in this despite the bizarreness of it.

He moaned, and grunted your name into the heights of the ceiling like there was no tomorrow; you’ve never seen him like this before—always the modest sighs and grunts whenever you had sex with him but nothing more. Neuvillette’s body was feverish, millions of tiny prickles spreading like wildfire as he stroked and stroked at his hard cock, hoping to finally reach that sweet release with you.

You moaned, a messy mix of both their names, earning a sharp hiss from the two males as they sucked in a sharp breath.

“I-I’m close. . Fuck . . !” “That’s it my sweet girl. Show your lover how good I’ll make you cum.”

Zhongli whispered, licking a long stripe up the side of your sweaty neck, golden gaze locked onto Neuvillette’s, taunting him. If it weren’t for the pleasure he was chasing this very moment, Neuvillette wouldn’t have thought twice before pulling you off the archon but his legs were trembling with icy bliss, unable to even take a few steps.

As if on cue, you clamp your walls around Zhongli’s cock, letting out a lewd sound before cumming. Your naked body hardened with pleasure, teeth gritting and digits curling as waves of bliss ran through your veins.

You couldn’t even hear Zhongli’s velvety praises as you came, the next thing you knew was that your moans became muffled—your face harshly coming into contact with the ivory sheets beneath as Zhongli pushed your head down to sinfully arch your back even more. He gave a couple more thrusts before pulling out and fisting his cock above your exhausted form, shooting endless ropes of hot cum onto your back as he moaned your name.

To his dismay, Neuvillette was the last to cum which meant you and Zhongli were able to see his current state in all its glory—all flushed and sweaty from desperately fisting his cock, moaning your name out with such need like he was a dragon in heat.

Hot cum coated his pale fingers, he sat there, cock still hard and catching his breath. Neuvillette had his eyes solely on you, like a quiet predator sizing up its main course for the night.

Maybe Neuvillette should show the Lord of Geo how to actually fuck you dirty until you and him were the epitome of sin.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Ok! Btw he is less Norse and more Germanic/Scandinavian. This guy was written abt in (what is now) England, but was local to Denmark, while Hiccup’s home is, afaik, roughly based on an archeological site in Sweden.

Anyway here he is! Descended from the biblical Cain, related to elves and jotunar, described first in Old English, by the peoples who the HISTORICAL King Arthur would have been fighting. He’s large and magical asf and deeply indistinct of species. Might be human. We don’t know.

If you like this guy, consider researching his hot mom. Because yes, he comes with a Knife MILF, and for some reason she appears to be a type of mer-creature. Or possibly just a magical woman who lives in a lake.

…have I mentioned how AGGRESSIVELY AMBIGUOUS these guys are

Also there is a TON of interesting lore abt them if you can speak/read Old English (I can, a bit) so hmu if you want to know more about them

EDIT: I noticed you like OSP. They have a great video covering Beowulf (the text these creatures are from), however they do draw Grendel as hairless. As an OE scholar, this is a pet peeve of mine, Grendel is described in one passage with long hair at LEAST on his head, so, while OSP’s video is overall good, I implore you to not contribute to a widespread artistic inaccuracy, please do not shave the Grendel. He has been through enough.

@thesaltofcarthage nice name! Get Grendel’d

I don’t mean to shove my Confusing Niche Folklore Hyperfixation That Is Also An AU Of A Popular Tumblr Fandom, but…..

Would you be interested in creatures (Monsters? Humans? Spirits? Gods? Hard to say) that actually, in irl folkloric canon, bridged the gap between Christianity/specifically Genesis, and the Old English paganism that Merlin is based in…. While also being adjacent to/part of the Norse/Nordic cultures that inspired HTTY? Also aggressively Fae- and Mermaid-adjacent.

(Absolutely could not CONTAIN my delight upon seeing that the GO x Merlin, “Magic Doesn’t Mix With Miracles” comic author likes HTTYD. I hope it isn’t awkward to say that your multiverse/fandoms perfectly fit my favorite folkloric creature)

I'm always down to learn new mythology, it's so interesting!!!

(And this ask comes with funny timing cause I've been trying (emphasis on trying) to do research on Norse mythology for another top secret potential Hijack fic concept that has been all I can think about for the past week)

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

There's Eddie and then there's you, who has moved into the trailer park. Eddie discovers this one morning and proceeds to make an ass of himself. Features cute and flirty Eddie.

Or alternatively Eddie spots you while he's rushing to get to his van for school and nearly knocks himself out.

Eddie has no game but he tries, sweet Eddie.

🖤

Eddie doesn't pay much attention to the new family moving into the trailer park. He's too focused on getting a song prepared for Saturday at The Hideout, alternating that with writing in his notebook, poring over ideas for a new Hellfire campaign.

Wayne pokes his head out of the trailer door, he's clutching cups of coffee for them both. Eddie's coffee is in his favourite mug- the Garfield one that Wayne bought for him when he first moved in with him many moons ago.

He gulps the coffee down, almost burns his tongue at the scalding temperature then swears when he realises what time it is. Shit shit shit. He's already late for school, he's determined to graduate this year so no skipping any boring shit no matter how much he wants to.

It's when he's climbing inside his van that he realises he's forgotten his essay for Mrs O'Donnell's class, it took him long enough to write the shit. If this was about D&D or metal music or any one of the fantasy novels he loves then he'd ace it, but it's not and he's not interested in another fucking love story.

Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the old dragon to fail him if he forgot the essay and he can't use the excuse that a dog ate it- that got him a week's detention last time.

It's then that he sees the trailer door open that's not far from Mayfield's house and he's not seen who's moved into the new trailer so sue him, he's curious and looks over.

You can imagine his surprise when he catches a hint of a cheerleading uniform then you peer up at him, the momentum as he runs or if he's being honest tries to strut and the fact he's gawking at you causes him to trip over his feet and he nearly knocks himself out on his van door and sprawls on the ground.

"Jesus h Christ" he growls and he cringes that he almost knocked himself out because he was hawking at a pretty lady. Smooth Munson. Real smooth.

"Are you alright?" Suddenly you're beside him, kneeling in the grass and peering over him anxiously. He thinks he might have died and he's now in heaven because your fingers are in his hair and you murmur that you're checking for blood.

"Beautiful" he thinks to himself but then he realised he said it out loud and a pink blush coats his cheeks. You bite your lip and a sweet smile blooms on your face.

"Okay, I think you've definitely hit your head" You grin at him and his heart is fluttering, racing like a hummingbird's wings. Fuck, he has no game when it comes to women, usually he tries to make them laugh or makes an overdramatic fool of himself.

But this right now with you? this stumps him and makes him nervous. Eddie was rarely nervous, perfecting a don't give a fuck demeanour over the years but one look from you and he's putty. Feels shy and tongue-tied, he can't remember the last time he was ever tongue-tied.

Trying very carefully not to make an ass of himself he gets up and takes a bow which makes you giggle. "Eddie Munson at your service princess"

"I know. Your reputation precedes you, Eddie, though you're nothing that I thought you'd be like" he smiles impishly, knows exactly what you mean.

"Mmm, mean, scary and is known to make Jason Carver piss his pants" You snort and nod, eyes lighting up and he's eager to hear your sweet laugh again.

Maybe you have some jock boyfriend who would kick his ass for flirting or talking to his girl but at this moment he could not give a shit.

"Yeah and I didn't expect you to almost knock yourself out just because you looked at me" there's a shyness to your tone and he shrugs.

"It's not often that I'm graced with someone who is so enchanting Milady" he teases but it's the truth at the same time and you

"Enchanting? I've never been called that before" you seem surprised that someone could think that about you and that pisses Eddie off. If you did have a boyfriend then he was the biggest jackass in the world if he didn't show you how special you were.

And he never thought there would ever be a bigger jackass than Jason Carver.

"I've never made a complete ass of myself and nearly gave myself a concussion in front of a girl before sweetheart, guess there are firsts for everything" he hides his smile with a lock of his hair, his heart rate spiking again at the look on your face.

"Should probably get going, I'd offer you a ride but uh I'm sure your boyfriend would kick my ass if I did that and you know you're from the dark side and Hellfire would lose their shit" he's disappointed he can't talk to you more but at least you live close, maybe you would speak again.

It's only when he realises that you've walked past him and you're waiting at the van door that he comes out of his reverie.

"The dark side? We're not in Star Wars and if I was I'd be Leia and kick the dark side's ass. Also it's good that I don't have a boyfriend so you can drive me huh Munson?" You wink at him and his brain short circuits.

No boyfriend. You just winked at him. He feels like a deer in headlights then promptly snaps out of it. Feels like he's the cock of the walk as he struts to his van.

He absolutely does not nearly trip over his own feet again trying to impress you with his suave strut. Absolutely not.

He does.

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (1/3)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, sexual tension, unprofessional behavior ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. In this chapter you will see her Instagram photos without any face reveal, just treat it like some moodboard of her modern look. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Despite his resistance, his grandfather said this series could be his big chance. Because what's the likelihood of a big production looking for a tall actor with a scar over his left eye?

The white line running from his eyebrow to his cheek was a reminder of when his nephew smashed a bottle next to him, the shards of which shot upwards as he leaned over it. He lost the sight in that eye at the time, but got a new artificial one that looked almost identical to the real one.

"The director became interested in you when I described your appearance and character to him. It's a leading role, Aemond." His grandfather continued, clearly excited. He, however, felt only discomfort at his words.

"It's a fantasy series. Dragons, gowns and knights. Romance, on top of that, between an uncle and a niece. I don't know. It's…" He started and didn't finish, running his hand over his face.

It sounded idiotic and he felt he would have made a fool of himself in front of millions of viewers who would forever remember him in the role of the cripple prince in an incestuous relationship.

"At least read the script." His grandfather didn't give up and placed a thick volume of stapled white pages in front of him.

Resigned, he spread himself comfortably on the sofa in his flat in the evening and began to read. He pressed his lips together when he saw that it all started with a flashback – the characters of the prince and his niece were still children at the time and were to be played by younger actors.

There was no cloying or exaggerated sweetness in the story or dialogues that he had expected. What surprised him was the moment when his character lost his eye and the fact that he decided not to speak to his betrothed for eight years.

He thought it was a bit of an overreaction, but perhaps in those days men approached their honour in this way.

Then he got to the scenes where their adult characters appeared and their first scene when they see each other in the courtyard. He imagined what was happening as if he was watching a film, them, throwing glances full of pain at each other, and him, unable to bear it, attacking his opponent in rage.

To his surprise, the next scene, the scene in his chamber turned into a love scene that made him hot – and then, just when he thought the rest of the plot would be a soap opera, his character suddenly became aggressive and cold again, destroying everything they had managed to accomplish.

He thought curiously that he liked how complicated and unpredictable the Prince's character was, how hard he tried to suppress the feelings he felt for this girl, how confident he was at the same time, with so many complexes and hatreds inside him.

He was intrigued.

He decided he would go for an audition and to his surprise, the next day he received a call that the director had decided he was perfect for the part.

He got the lead role in the series.

His grandfather, as his agent, contacted the production and it turned out that they wanted to rehearse scenes between him and the actresses who would play the Princess. He was to appear in the studio in a setting specially prepared for this, which would resemble the Prince's chamber.

They were to portray the scene in which his niece comes to the Prince's chamber on the evening they see each other for the first time in eight years.

There were no wigs or costumes prepared yet, so he was given something of a substitute, a simple leather tunic and boots, and a black eye patch that had been designed specifically for his character earlier and was already finished.

The lights were turned off, leaving only the lamps for illumination and the candles and fire lit all around. He looked towards the fireplace, fiddling with the knife between his fingers, recognising that this would add an air of unease to the scene.

"Action!" The director shouted, and the door opened. He looked to the side and spotted a tall, black-haired girl. Her lips curved in pain at the sight of him, as if she was suffering greatly, but he thought in the back of his mind that her facial expression was exaggerated.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him with her chin raised high.

This was not how he imagined her, but he decided to focus on his role, rolling the knife between his fingers.

"Yes." He replied coldly and dispassionately.

The girl swallowed hard.

"Have you read them?"

"Cut! They see each other for the first time in eight years. They feel anger, fear, disbelief! Give me something more than theatrical indifference and tears." The director called out, making both him and the girl in front of him swallow hard, embarrassed.

"Action!"

It seemed to him that it went on forever. Girls similar to themselves went in and out, and he repeated the same line over and over again, feeling nothing.

He was in character as much as he could, taking his role very seriously, trying to identify with it, but he couldn't bring up the feelings he was supposed to have for this girl who, after all, was supposed to be the love of his life.

He sighed heavily, adjusting the eye patch over his eye when the director said that there was another rehearsal ahead of them. He nodded his head to let him know that he was ready.

"Action!"

The door opened, but the girl who stood in it looked at him for a moment with big eyes, as if she didn't recognise him. There was something endearing in that gaze. She turned behind her, as if she was afraid of being seen, and immediately closed the door, breathing loudly.

At last, real acting.

She turned towards him, as if she was afraid of him, and he pressed his lips together, involuntarily looking at her body hidden only beneath a thin nightgown, her slightly wavy, long dark hair falling freely over her shoulders.

Her face was gentle, warm, her eyes large, her lashes and eyebrows dark, accentuating her charm.

She was silent for a moment, her lips trembling, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Did you received my letters?"She muttered softly in a hopeful voice, from which he felt goosebumps pass along his back.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice soft and low.

Yes, he thought, give me something I can work with.

She swallowed loudly and clenched her hands into fists, shifting from foot to foot. She shook her head, her eyebrows arched in pain as if asking how he could do this to her.

"Have you read them?" She asked, and he pressed his lips together, tilting his head back and snorted under his breath, turning the blade in his hand. She jumped up, horrified when he slammed it suddenly into the armrest lying beneath his hand.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He murmured mockingly, looking at her with slightly parted lips, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

He was sure the director would interrupt, but he let them continue.

The girl lowered her gaze, her body quivering as if she was about to cry, an expression of humiliation, pain and shame on her face from which he felt heat in his heart.

Her gaze suddenly changed. She swallowed hard, as if she had also swallowed his insult, and moved ahead of him, pretending to walk towards the bookshelf.

He pressed his lips together and looked at her over his shoulder, measuring her with a furious, cold stare.

"Do you often visit men like this?"

She turned to him with a look as if she wanted to kill him, her hand dropping as if she had run out of strength after what she had heard.

"Have you no shame?" She asked coolly, the way she said it, the look in her eyes made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

"Cut! That was fantastic, thank you!" Said the director, and she blinked, the expression on her face turning from cold and disgusted to a wide smile full of joy, her gaze warm and welcoming.

"– you were amazing – I had goosebumps –" She whispered as she walked past him and giggled, waving goodbye to him, disappearing out the door a moment later.

When it turned out a few days later that she had got the role, he breathed a sigh of relief. The director had told him in a phone conversation that he could feel the kind of tension on camera that he expected from their characters and that this was it.

He was ashamed to admit it, but he agreed with him.

She was good and pulled the most subtle, intriguing expressions from her face with ease.

Although he didn't usually do this and resented his grandfather for forcing him to create an official instargam account, which was almost dead anyway, he used it to find her. At first he thought Rhaenys was her name, but then the producent told him it was her stage pseudonym.

He did not know what he thought of this, finding that it was an approach to acting that he was not fond of, but he decided not to judge her hastily, being a very private and withdrawn person himself.

Finding her turned out to be child's play, and he felt like a voyeur, scrolling through all her posts on her wall one by one, wanting to get a sense of who he would be working with, or at least that's how he tried to explain this unnatural curiosity to himself.

He snorted involuntarily in amusement upon seeing her Pikachu shirt, thinking with a kind of admiration that she had a distance to herself that he lacked.

She apparently wasn't afraid of harsh judgement from the outside world, of someone saying she was childish or immature, retaining a kind of innocence he hadn't seen in any actress in a long time.

Usually, like him, they created themselves, how they wanted to be perceived, making from their characters a style under which everything else was adjusted.

He felt a strange kind of satisfaction that he couldn't explain when he didn't see her in any of the photos with any man in an embrace or position that might indicate that she had a boyfriend.

He thought this would make it easier for him to get into character and not feel remorseful – although of course it was only his job – that he was touching someone else's girlfriend.

Although he was not convinced about this project at first, he was now beginning to feel excited at the thought that this really could open the door to his career.

All the way up to the start of shooting, he had been preparing himself to actually get into the character mentally, reading the script again and again, trying to understand Prince's character, unintentionally identifying with him more and more.

With his pain, his shame, his longing, his despair, his unfounded, cold, calculating irony and aggression.

While not everyone applauded the method acting, he felt the need to understand the character he was playing, to get inside his head, to become him in some way, to properly portray his emotions.

He and his grandfather flew to the hotel a few days before shooting to acclimatise, attend rehearsals and costume fittings. He met the actor, Aegon, who would play his brother-king, and Jace, who would play the Princess's older brother, and although he was an aloof man, he quickly found common ground with them.

Looking at the size and number of sets, the scenery created especially for one or two scenes, he felt the grand scale of the whole project and thought with excitement that he would be a fool if he refused.

When the make-up artists and stylists applied the wig on his head, his leather tunic, his breeches and his eye patch they said he was made for this role. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he found in disbelief that he really did look like a different person and he liked what he saw.

He looked dark, menacing, malicious.

Just as he had imagined.

They met formally for the first time at, much to his liking, a session with a woman who he understood was a psychologist and was supposed to take care of them when it came to approaching intimate scenes and their comfort zone.

They shook hands with polite smiles in a way that was a tad too official, but there was something heartfelt and warm in her expression and her bright eyes that made him feel a pleasant sensation in his chest.

He tried not to grin as he saw her wearing a Pikachu t-shirt, the exact same one she wore in one of her photos on Instagram.

The woman invited them with a hand gesture to sit across from her on the couch as she sat on the other side, in an armchair.

"As I understand it, you have both read the script and your director's suggestions and know that there will be scenes involving you touching your naked bodies or exposing yourself in front of each other." She said calmly and they nodded their heads.

"Okay. I'll start by asking if you have any questions or concerns." She continued, but they were silent.

"I will be with you during every scene of this type, offering you advice and support. You have the right to say if you feel uncomfortable, if you are made to feel bad by a certain type of touch and you don't want to repeat the scene in the same way. The director wants you both to feel safe here." She added, and they nodded their heads.

"Do you have any barriers, things you're sure you don't want the other party to do? Touch in places that you find unacceptable?" She asked, and he remained silent, but looked at his partner out of the corner of his eye, curious.

He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to. She swallowed quietly at last, fiddling with the material of her black tracksuit shorts.

"– I – let's just say I'm not experienced in this kind of scenes – it's hard to say where my comfort limit is – what should I do if, for example, we're in the middle of filming and I feel unwell? –" She asked uncertainly, looking at her with her big, bright eyes.

The woman nodded.

"– of course, you should then stop the filming – it would be a good idea if you just agreed between you beforehand what you plan to do, where you plan to touch each other – this will help you to prepare in advance for what is going to happen, to say what causes your concerns –" She replied calmly.

The girl smiled and let out a quiet breath, as if something in her answer had reassured her.

He saw her for the second time during a party at the hotel that the series' production organized for them, so they could get to know each other better and relax before the first day of shooting.

Like him, she was dressed plain, in long mid-thigh length, fluffy sweatshirt and woollen cream, overknee socks, while he, as usual, was dressed all in black.

She approached him to greet him for a certain out of sheer courtesy, he however appreciated her professional demeanour. When she asked if she could sit with him and the people from production he involuntarily moved over on the sofa, making room next to himself, which she accepted with a smile.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye while chatting to the set crew all evening, a few drinks were enough for him to loosen his tongue a little and start talking like a normal person.

He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the whisky already humming heavily in his head when he saw her get up from the table and go to the toilet, leaving her half-finished drink with them.

He figured he'd wait with his assessment of the situation until she returned, but to his dismay, surely enhanced by the alcohol, he acted rather dramatically, pushing the glass away from her as soon as she sat back down next to him and tried to reach for it.

"Never leave your drinks with strangers in this business. Always take them with you." He said as if he were her older brother or father.

She blinked, horrified and ashamed, clearly not even thinking that anyone among the people around her might want to hurt her, but he knew this environment better than she did.

Seeing the look on her face, he pressed his lips together.

"Believe me. I heard this kind of stories. They put pills in your drink, tell you they'll help you back to your hotel room when you start to feel worse, and the next day on set they tell you that if you say anything to anyone, you can go back where you came from."

They stared at each other for a moment in uncomfortable silence and although the people around them were laughing, she seemed to be experiencing some sort of shock.

"Do...do you know such women personally?" She mumbled, and he shook his head, playing with his glass between his fingers.

"No, thank God. But I've heard hundreds of stories like that. I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just trying to warn you. For your safety." He added, feeling for some reason like an idiot who was now lecturing and moralising her.

She nodded quickly, however, her gaze filled with a warmth and understanding that made his chest hot, though he blamed the whisky he'd drunk for his condition.

"Yes, you are right, I should be more careful. I'm glad I'll be working with someone like you." She confessed with a kind of embarrassment that surprised him, playing with the material of her woollen knee-length socks.

He looked at her, spread out comfortably on the leather sofa, realising that there was so little room at the table that their knees were pressed against each other.

When she said she would go to sleep, for some reason he offered to walk her to her room. She smiled broadly at his words and they set off together for the lift, exchanging quiet, non-committal remarks on the way.

There was something about her demeanour that made him feel at ease, her gentleness, openness and the alcohol humming in his head made him more daring when it came to spoken words.

"You made a great impression on me during the auditions." He hummed and she looked up at him, her eyes shining with joy.

"You don't even know how much these words mean to me. You were wonderful, convincing and charismatic. I hope I won't disappoint you." She said.

"Mmm." He hummed and flinched as the elevator doors slid open on the floor where their rooms were located. They walked out into the hall in silence, the warm look in her eyes that she gave him over her shoulder made him feel hot.

"– see you tomorrow –" She said and he nodded.

"– sleep well –"

The first scene they were to play, although it was only in the fifth episode, was when they returned to her chamber after speaking with her stepfather following negotiations about the succession to the throne.

Their dialogue was about what they really thought regarding what had happened in the past – this scene did not contain intimate moments and was meant to help them get into their characters well.

She walked into the room, which was also a large medieval chamber immersed completely in darkness and smiled at the sight of him. He nodded his head in greeting.

She approached him, all beaming with happiness and excitement, a nightgown on her body and a thin robe thrown over her shoulders.

"You look amazing. Wonderful characterisation." She said softly with a sincere cordiality from which he felt warmth in his heart.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, not knowing what more he could answer.

"I am the one who wants to thank you. For what you said yesterday. I guess I needed to hear this." She said, giving him a warm look full of gratitude that made him feel relieved.

"Forgive me if I was too harsh." He whispered.

"You were not." She said calmly.

He nodded and grunted, swallowing heavily, being sober having problems again with putting his thoughts into words.

They looked up at the director who ordered that they were about to go to the first shot where they were lying on the bed, so they took their places next to each other on the sheets.

He felt the stress gripping his body, the tension at the thought that there were dozens of people around them looking at them and judging him.

He had been given this role with ease and now he had to prove himself.

"Action!"

He shuddered as he felt her hand on his and looked up at her – her face was frighteningly close to his, pleasantly smooth and soft, a warmth in her gaze from which he ran out of words.

"Speak to me, uncle. Don’t lock yourself in your mind." She whispered to him, as if these words were meant only for him, as if she really cared about him, missed him, loved him.

He looked at her with his heart pounding fast, thinking with horror that he had forgotten his line.

"– I will –" She whispered.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyelids, trying to turn his fear into an expression of regret and rage on his face.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He hissed through clenched teeth, looking at her again, pain in her gaze, as if his words had really surprised and hurt her.

"– that was never my intention –"

"– then why? –"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn’t let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

He snorted, looking at her with both disbelief and frustration. He blinked, smelling her pleasant scent, and realised that, just like in the script, she must have rubbed her skin with some vanilla oil.

He looked at her lips, pink, soft and full, and for a moment he forgot again what he should say next.

What was happening to him?

"It doesn’t matter." He muttered finally. "I needed you when it happened."

He saw her furrow her brow, her lips tightened in pain.

"I needed you too." She said in a trembling voice. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He was impressed to see real emotion in her gaze – pain, grief, shame, fear. He didn't know why he lifted his hand and touched her cheek – he thought it was idiotic, but she followed it up and grasped his fingers in hers, kissing gently the inside of his palm.

He cursed in his head feeling his manhood pulsed softly in his breeches.

He put his arm around her waist and snuggled her into his chest as scripted – her hands embraced him, her face pressed against the hollow of her neck.

He seemed to feel her puffy little nipples through the fabric of his shirt before the director shouted ‘cut!’.

They pulled away from each other, looking up at him, rising on their elbows.

"– I liked it, but I would change the ending – I know it's not in the script, but the moment when he touches her cheek begs for a soft, tender, innocent kiss – can we try it that way? –" He asked, and they nodded and grunted, embarrassed.

She returned to her earlier position, trying again to bring to her face the same sadness, pain and grief he had seen seconds before.

"I needed you too." She said in pain. "When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother’s guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that’s how you felt."

He looked at her for a moment with a gaze full of regret and touched her cheek again, running his thumb over her jaw. She kissed his hand as gently as before, cuddling her face into his rough skin, closing her eyes. She sighed quietly as he drew her closer to his face, her warm breath enveloping his skin before his fingers weaved into her hair, forcing her to lean down.

They clung to each other in a slow, shy kiss with the quiet click of their saliva, her plump, fleshy lips tasted of some sweet strawberry lipstick, deliciously soft, warm and wet, their breaths shaky and excited.

It seemed to him that time stood still; her touch was tender and full of peace but also the certainty of her affection, her soft fingers gently trailing over his jaw and cheek, caressing him as if she wanted to give him a sense of security.

Something about her closeness reassured him, and his broad hand stroked her head as if she were a small child, brushing gently her lower lip with his own, a quiet, shy sigh left her mouth.

He swallowed loudly, terrified as he felt his manhood swell and throb at the sound, at her closeness, at her taste, craving more.

They finally pulled away, her forehead pressed against his temple as his knuckles ran over her warm, soft cheek, something in her gaze he couldn't name.

"Cut! I loved this!" Their director called to them and they let out a loud sigh of relief, as if they had accomplished something very significant. His partner smiled at him.

"Everything's all right?" He asked, somehow condescending towards her, afraid she wouldn't tell him she felt uncomfortable even if she did.

She blinked, surprised by his question, and leaned over him as the crew discussed with each other whether they wanted to change anything in the shot.

"Why are you asking?" She asked lightly, curious, as if she didn't understand what he meant.

There was something intimate about how close her face was, her pleasant scent filling his lungs.

"We didn't talk about this before the scene. You know." He replied, not knowing what else to call what he was thinking about. Her eyes widened as if what he said scared her.

"– oh – no, no – I feel fine – but it's very kind of you to ask –" She whispered warmly, laying her head next to his on the pillow, pressing her forehead to his temple.

"– I feel safe with you –" She said softly into his ear, her words intended only for him.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this could be a huge mistake on her part.

[todayisafridaynight]

spiritual sequel to this for our favorite local goober My Friend

[satorusugurugurl]

Hi, hi, sweetie💗.

Can you make a JJK guys reaction to his friend/acquaintance being in love with his girlfriend?

Characters: Sukuna, Inumaki, Megumi, Nanami.

That’s a Lie

Summary: What happens when the boys discover their co-worker claims they're in love with their girlfriend?

Word Count: 4,302

Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, cursing, self-doubt, foul mouth, angry smut, smut at work, cream pie, angry sex, biting marking, claiming, mirror sex

A/N: Hi, Nonnie; thanks for your request. I don't write stories for minor characters! 🙂‍↕️ So please enjoy the two sexy men!! 💚💚💚

*MDNI*

Ryomen Sukuna:

The problem with being a tattoo artist and piercer was taking on apprentices. Sukuna always preferred to work alone, but when his boss, Geto, begged for him to take on some kid from another shop. He reluctantly agreed. Sukuna owed Suguru a favor for picking up Yuuji for a week when his schedule was booked, and you were working overtime. So, he might as well help him out.

But he was beginning to regret his decision.

“How’s your friend doing?” Geto asked smugly, causing Sukuna’s eyebrow to twitch.

“That shithead is not my fucking friend.”

Geto laughed, eyes ding down the hall towards the break room where said shithead was sitting. “Yeah, I don’t know if he would be a good fit here.”

Sukuna could’ve told him that. Mahito was dark and disturbed. The tattoos he sketched out were strange, humanoid creatures that he almost got off to. The sketches gave you the creeps, and Sukuna couldn’t stand the way he stared at you whenever you stopped by the shop. Mahito knew you were Sukuna's, but he always stared, licking his lips as the patchwork tattoos on his face shifted. He looked at you as though you were his next meal.

“Fire him then.”

“I mean, he’s not getting paid. He is shadowing you. It’s two more weeks. As soon as that’s up, he can go back to his other shop.”

“Can I ask why the fuck you decided to take him on?”

“I owed the owner a favor because he didn’t file a police report when Satoru smashed his window at the shop when he was drunk at the Christmas party a few months back.”

“Your stupid fucking boyfriend.”

“Oi, you should be thanking my fucking boyfriend. We wouldn’t have seen the competition firsthand if he didn't smash that window.”

Yeah, there was no competition between the two shops. Geto’s tattoo and piercing shop was the best in town. There was no way Uzumaki stood a chance against Curses and Dragons LLC. Kenjaku could suck it.

Sukuna glanced at the clock on the wall, “There’s no chance in hell I’m thinking that cocky asshole.” he shoved his hands into his pocket to the back to meet you outside for lunch. “I’m taking my lunch.”

“Yeah, he's the same guy who introduced you to your girlfriend, the one that Gojo insisted you go into the closet with to play seven minutes in heaven with.” Sukuna stuck his nose up, grimacing at his friend and boss. “So, if you don’t want to thank him for a chance to see the competition, at least thank him for introducing you two.”

“Respectfully fuck you and your logic.”

”Yeah, yeah, asshole, enjoy your lunch break.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, headed towards the break room, and glanced at his phone to see where you were. “I’m just saying I could treat her better than him. Mahito won a wince from Miguel, one of the shop's piercers.

“You better not let Sukuna hear you say that.”

“Oh, like I give a shit.” Sukuna felt a vein pulse in his neck as he stood outside the kitchen, gritting his teeth. “I like her. She likes me. I might as well go as far as to say I’m falling in love with her.”

“Sukuna is going to murder you if he hears you say that.”

He might end up doing just that, bless, as he clenched his fist, eyes blurring with unfiltered rage. You usually get along with everyone at the shop but couldn’t stand Mahito. He had been a little too friendly with lingering touches on your arm, his eyes wandering over your body. Sukuna had to offer to tell him to fuck off, but you assured him that you were okay. Now was different, though; knowing that little freak thought you liked him back pissed Sukuna off beyond all words.

The pink-haired man stepped closer to the break room, ready to explode with rage. “I don’t even know what she sees him.” That statement spoke nothing but the truth. With his thoughts swirling, Sukuna was getting ready to call you when the familiar scent of your perfume flew by. With his eyes snapping from his phone, Sukuna watched as you entered the kitchen.

“Oh my sweet Dol—” SMACK!! “Ow, what the—?!” another smack, followed by another, echoed off the walls.

Sukuna ran in, gripping the door frame as he stared at your back as you huffed and heaved with anger. “You listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch! Sukuna is my boyfriend. I love him and his family.” You took a closer towering over the trembling form. Mahito was gripping his cheek, which was turning red. “ I could never love a conniving piece of shit like you.”

You went in for another smack only to be yanked back. Sukuna’s arms were around your waist as you kicked and screamed, fighting to get back to the cowering man, pushing himself as far away from you as possible. Seeing you losing your absolute shit in your cute Animal scrubs had Sukuna’s cock twitching in his jeans as he locked his arms around you. Realizing there was no escape, the fight in you slowly faded as your boyfriend placed gentle kisses over your cheek.

“Easy girl, easy.” Sukuna presses his lips against your neck. “Miguel, get him the fuck out of here.”

“Good idea, we don’t want her beating him to a bloody pulp.”

A pink eyebrowbc ocked as Sukuna narrowed his gaze. “Eh? Her? No, no, I don’t want his heart to be broken when I fuck the woman he claims to be in love with against the fridge.” Miguel was about to ask if he was serious just before your boyfriend slammed your chest against the fridge before you. “Better get the fuck moving, Miguel.” cheek pressed firmly against the cool middle of the refrigerator as you helped Sukuna tag your pants down just an inch.

“Alright! All right, fuck, hold on!

Both sets of hands halted as you glanced at the retreating Miguel as he pulled Mahito out before slamming the door to the break room shut. Crimson eyes watched the door momentarily before your boyfriend hissed through his teeth as you backed up, rubbing against his erection, drawing his back down at you.

“Hurry,” you begged, “make me yours.”

Sukuna just stared at you in shock and amazement. He was kidding about fucking you there at work against the fudge, but when you looked at him like that, all his resolve went out the window. He yanked your scrubs down this time, pulling them around your thighs as he unbuckled his black stud belt.

There was something about seeing you so fired up over him that had his heart racing. Sukuna spit into his hand, rubbing it all over his shaft before he began grinding it against you from how wet you were; Sukuna assumed you felt the same way he did. The tip of his shaft slid into your tight heat, causing your back to dip at the stretch. Your nails scratched against the surface of the fridge as he continued to slide inside of you inch by inch slowly; the drag of his frenum piercing sent shivers down your spine. All while his hands gripped to your waist, hissing as he growled in pleasure.

“That’s let me inside of you. Take me deeper, kitten, deeper and deeper.” as Sukuna’s nails dig into your skin. “Fuuuck~”

“Ahh—Kuna, you're so t-thick! Feels so good, so fucking good.”

Being inside of you, buried so deep, did feel good. It felt so fucking good that Kuna had to get a hold of himself from demolishing you and your insides. But the words you had said before he was even inside you echoed inside Sukuna’s mind. ‘Hurry up, make me yours.’ you were as desperate for him as he was for you. So why should he hold back? Perhaps him holding back is what made Mahito feel as though he had a fucking chance with you.

“Fuck it.” Sukuna pulled all the way out before snapping his hips forward, slamming his cock head firmly against your cervix. The sudden roughness had your eyes bugging out as your knee buckled. He repeated the same movements, pulling out until the tight ring of muscles snagged on his tip before he was filling you again.

“K-Kuna! Oooh fuck, yes! Yes! Fuuck!”

“That’s right,” he snarled, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Say my name screams it. I want all these motherfuckers to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Sukuna!” Tears falling from your eyes.

“Louder.”

“Sukuna!”

His teeth nipped and sucked at your skin, marking you as he lost himself in primal undying need. “Louder, scream it.” his cock slides in and out of you faster and rougher. His piercing, rubbing sinfully over your g-spot, making you cry out loud, eyes rolling back.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! Kuna!” his name flows out of your mouth like tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s like a prayer, a sin for lust-ridden prayer as your boyfriend fucks you. His teeth continue digging into your skin as your legs tremble. The squelching sounds of him fucking you deeper were almost as loud as your sharp cries, his grunts, and the slapping of skin against skin.

“K-Kitten~” Sukuna’s eyebrows for joy slack as his eyes squeezed tight. “I love you fuck, I love you!”

“I-I fuck—ah! I love you—t-too! I love you, Kuna!”

Hearing you say that had his eyes going wide as he throbs inside of you; it felt too good being inside of you and hearing that you loved him. It was too good. He didn’t have a chance to pull out. His cum spurts inside of you as he growls against your soft skin. Having Sukuna cum inside of you for the first time in your relationship and your life has your eyes shut tight as you lose yourself in the sensation. It felt warm, and it felt so good that it had your head falling forward as your orgasm wrecked through you.

Your spasming contractions around his cock, had your boyfriend slowly pushing all this cum further inside your cunt. Sukuna only stops when you try pulling away as the oversensitivity causes a slight pain to settle your stomach. It was then, and then he gently pulled out of you, watching as the thick droplets of your combined cum ran down your inner thigh. Sukuna moved, grabbing a napkin off the table and gently cleaning it off you.

“I meant it.”

Blinking as he tossed the napkin in the trash, Sukuna blinked. “What?” He wasn’t sure what you were talking about because he had just cummed his brains out. “Meant what, kitten?” his hands move gently over your body, pulling your pants back up before helping you sit in a chair.

“That I love you and your family.” The timidness of your voice makes you all the cuter, making him fall even harder.

“I love you too.” His hands reach out, thumbs brushing over your flushed tear, tear-stained cheeks. “Thank you for loving me.”

“Kuna,” You reach up, caressing his hand gently, “it would have been impossible not to fall in love with you.” as you both sat in the silence, caressing one another lovingly, Sukuna thought about what Geto had said earlier. He did need to thank Gojo for throwing the two of you in a closet together. You were the best thing to have ever graced his messy and complicated life because you were the love of his life.

Nanami Kento:

“Hey Nanami,” looking up from the newspaper, Naomi I’d Gojo was lying on the couch across from him. “Do you think I have a chance with your little assistant?”

“Ino—? I honestly think he’s a bit too young for you.” Plus, Nanami wasn’t even sure if he had a partner.

“No, no, please.” Gojo cackles, sitting up. “No, I meant to your other assistant.” realizing he was talking about you, Nanami put his paper down, taking his glasses off his face to focus all his attention on the annoying jackass in front of him.

“Why?”

Left left to right as if searching for anyone else before leaning his back against the couch. “Uhm, because I wanna ask her out on a date.”

A date? This idiot wanted to ask you out on a date.

The idea of that in itself made Nanami want to laugh. He knew you weren’t single because you had been dating since last year. Not a lot of people knew about your relationship. You agree it would be best to keep it down low. To avoid the reprimanding lectures from the higher-ups and the teasing that would ensue if Gojo ever found out.

Nanami opened his mouth to let his coworker know you were taken and happy just as you walked into the room. You were carrying a stack of blank talisman papers, heading towards the coffee table where Gojo and Nanami sat. On top of the stack of paper was a bottle of ink and your calligraphy pen.

You had your bottom lip between your teeth as you focused on not dropping any items you carried in your arms. Your loving boyfriend started to stand to run to your assistance. But a certain blindfolded freak beat him to it. Gojo ran so fast, snatching the ink bottle off the top of the stack you were carrying.

“That looks really heavy. Let me carry it for you.”

“Oh!” you have had a sigh as Gojo takes the stack of heavy paper from you. “Thanks, Toru! My back was killing me there.”

The white tops of Gojo’s hair sway with each step he takes towards the table, placing your items on its surface. “Oh, why does your back hurt from carrying all those good looks and personality?” Your eyes dart towards Nanami, whose leg bounces as he anxiously watches you both.

“Oh no, I hurt it while working out the other day.”

“Oooh yeah? Next time you go to the gym, you should invite me. I could show you how to lift weights properly. That way, you don’t get hurt.”

Nanami knew for a fact that you had hurt your back when you both had sex in his car a couple of days ago. From how you’re biting your bottom lip as you glance toward Gojo, you were thinking about that night, too. The way he had you bent, legs to your chest, head was thrown back as he pounded into you. Windows fogged up as you screamed into his mouth. He knew you would hurt your back doing it last time, but he was fighting the urge to take you out to his car right now and have his way with you again.

“Oh, that's so sweet, Toru, thank you! But I—”

“We could make it a date.”

“Eh?” Your eyes widen as you glance between him and Nanami.

Gojo lifts one of the sides of his blindfold, revealing a bright blue eye. “Yeah, we can make it a date. We can go work out, and I’ll take you for a protein smoothie or something afterward. Or, if you want, we could skip the gym and go to dinner.”

“O-Oh!”

“Because if I’m being completely honest with you, I think I’m falling head over heels in love with you.”

Nanami stood up, strutting towards you, the light from the afternoon sun glinting off his green glasses. “Excuse me,” you peer at your boyfriend, unaware of why he was saying excuse me, before he gripped your chin, slamming his lips against yours. You moan, eyes going wide as he kisses you deeply. As quickly as his lips meet yours, they pull away so he can look in the face of the shocked man watching you both. “I forgot my girlfriend, and I have a meeting.” Nanami’s hand intertwines with yours as he pulls you away, leaving a jaw-dropped Gojo watching you both disappear down the hall.

You don’t make it far before he pulls you into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind him before he turns you around, pushing you against it. His lips, sweet and tender, kiss your neck, nipping and sucking on your earlobe. You're moaning, shivering against him, arching your back off the door before Nanami pulls you, bending you over the sink, his hands pushing your pants down, as his other hand tangles in your hair.

“Ah~ K-Kento!” You mewl as he yanks on your hair, forcing your head up to look in the mirror.

“He said he’s falling head over heels in love with you.” Nanami’s voice is low and scratchy as he breathes hot air on your ear, his eyes focused solely on you in the mirror. “While that infuriates me beyond all words, I can’t blame him.” He presses his body firmly against yours, his free hand reaching between your bodies, unfastening his belt before tugging his zipper down. “You are utterly beautiful, smart, and strong.”

His praises make your heart race faster, your hands gripping the sink. “My fuckin’ fuck—“The whine that sounds in your throat is broken off as Nanami’s thick hard cock rubs up and down your ass. Pre-cum that was beading at the tip smears against your skin.

“I, however, cannot overlook that I did not care for him declaring his love for you.” Gripping the base of his cock Nanami eased it down, sliding the velvety shaft up and down over your slick folds. “H-Haaah~ hearing the idiot say that made me insanely jealous. I couldn't stop myself from kissing you before him, but I regret to inform you that kissing you wasn't enough to prove how much I care about you. I need to take it further. I want Gojo to know that you are my girlfriend.”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you could see the fiery hunger in your boyfriend’s eyes. A hunger that could only be satisfied by you and you alone. Without saying a word, you rocked your hips back, rubbing yourself over his shaft, coating the soft, warm skin of his cock in your slick. That sensation alone made Nanami falter. His hands grabbed onto your waist, trying to hold you in place to cease your movements, only to fail in the process. You were so incredibly wet and hot; feeling you rub against him made his cock twitch in anticipation.

“T-Then make him know, show him I’m your girlfriend.”

Nanami wasn't one to mark toys up in places other people could see. But hearing Gojo say that he was falling for you and having him blatantly confess that to you in front of his face made him want to act differently. He growled into your ear, rutting his hips against your dripping sex, as he sealed his lips against the skin behind your ear, sucking in it.

You gasped, gripping the counter harder as your cunt throbbed against his twitching cock. Feeling you squirm as he marked you left, Nanami snarled, his hands sliding up your hips over your chest, groping both your breasts. He squeezed them as his hips moved racers, the tip rubbing against your clit. Having him touch you in several different places had your eyes rolling back. His lips against your neck, leaving a hickey for everyone to see, his hands massaging your chest, as his cock sliding over you was driving you insane.

“K-Kento, please, please, baby,” he grunted against your neck, his hips stalling at your words. “Please fuck me. I need you.”

The desperation in your voice was enough to have him pulling back. “Anything for you, my love.” His hand squeezed your breasts as the fat tip of his cock slid inside of you. The stretch alone had you gasping, eyes shutting, eyebrows pickled together. “Nu-huh,” Nanami bit down on your earlobe. “Do not shut your eyes; I want you to look at yourself when I fuck you love.” It took another sharp nip to your skin to have your eyes lazily open.

When you looked into the mirror, you found those beautiful honey-brown eyes burning holes into your soul. As he watched your face screw up with pleasure, he slid in further, making your head fall forward as you inhaled sharply. He continued sliding until his hips were pressed flush against yours. It was then that he released his grip on your breasts, one hand gripping your hip while the other tangled in your hair, tugging the strands and lifting your head for the second time.

“How will you look at yourself with your head falling forward like that?”

“Holy shit Kento—“

“I suppose I’ll just need to help you, won’t I?”

Your eyes focused on yourself as Nanami kept a firm grip on your hair as he pulled out before sliding back into your wet heat. “Nnngh!” You cried out, mouth falling agape as Nanami groaned against your flushed skin. “Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” You cried out with each deep thrust.

“You feel so good~ god, it’s like heaven being inside of you. So wet and tight for me and me alone.”

“K-Kenn~!”

Nanami rasped out a deep moan against your ear, his breath hot and desperate. “Yes~ say my name~ I want that blindfolded freak to not only see my mark on you but also to hear you.” Digging his fingers into your hip harder, Nanami set a rough and needy pace.

Your eyes rolled slightly back as he fucked you. He was usually so loving and sweet in the bedroom. Of course, you’d have your nights where you both had hot, angry sex, but this time was different, and you liked it a lot. Seeing his face so focused in the mirror, how his eyes lingered on the back of your head before darting towards the mirror, here you both made eye contact, was so erotic. The man whom you had given your heart to was fucking you so good you would never leave him.

“Haaah~ haah~! Kento~ oh my fucking god!” Your whimpering sobs, and tear-filled eyes locked on his, staring into his soul as his thrusts picked up in speed, slamming into you, making the fat of your ass ripple with each deep thrust. “Kento! Kento!”

“Fuck~ you sound so pretty when you cry out my name like that. Scream it for me~ scream it and cum all over my cock, love.” His hand on your hip slides down, rubbing circles over your clit, leaving you a shaking, desperate mess around him. “Cum for me~ I know you’re close, I can feel you clamping down.”

You were close; you were so close your toes were curling inside of your shoes as your mouth fell open into an ‘O’ as Nanami’s thrusts became harder, deeper, and more desperate. Your legs shook as you felt your orgasm building, tightening in your lower abdomen. The rubbing of your clit had you on the edge as your eyes narrowed, looking at your boyfriend in the mirror.

“I-I’m cumming~ I’m cumming Kento!” A pure, unfiltered scream ripped through your body as your legs shook uncontrollably, knees buckling as Nanami pressed you against the counter to hold you up. “Ahhh! Ah! Fuck!” A stream of clear liquid squirted out of you, making Kento seize up as his halls clenched.

“Cumming~ cumming baby~ fuck your such a good girl!” Nanami’s head fell back as he absconded his girl on your hair, griping your ass instead as his hips slammed harder and harder against your ass as his ropes of cum filled you up. “Looove~! Love fuck!”

Both of you were panting heavily as you weakly held the counter, pressing your warm cheek against the cool counter with a satisfied groan as Nanami pressed kisses against your back. His cock began softening inside of you, but neither of you dared to move as you basked in the afterglow of your intense orgasms.

“Mmmhm,” you hummed slowly, lifting your head as Nanami pulled out of you. He made quick work grabbing some paper towels to try to clean you up. “Kento love, I don’t think any amount of paper towels is going to clean up this mess.”

Your boyfriend chuckled nervously behind you, still trying to clean you up. “I may have gotten a little carried away.” You scoff, turning to look back at Nanami, who is tossing the dirty towels in the trash. “Play, I got extremely carried away. I couldn't stand the thought of Gojo flirting with you.”

“Yeah~? Well, if you kissing me didn't clue him in, I’m sure the hickeys and the moans will.”

“Yes.” he pulled your pants back up, freezing. “Oh, uhm, darling.”

You already know your pants are wet from your squirting. “I know; we'll have to go home early.” Nanami huffs over dramatically.

“I suppose you're right; I'm going to have to

Take you home and lick you clean.”

“Oh my god, I guess you will!” you huff out dramatically, grinning as he pulls you into his arm, snuggling you tight. It was going to be a fantastic day, especially if you had him by your side.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

[echobutgirlypop]

Weren't we the stars in Heaven?

Weren't we the salt in the sea?

Dragon in the new warm mountain

Didn't you believe in me?

Yeah, you held me the whole way through

When I couldn't say the words like you.

I was scared, Charles, but I wanted to.

I was scared, Charles, but I wanted to.

[thegnomelord]

aaaaomg... the response to my ask (i was the shark person lad) is so good :DD it got my brain bouncing around in my skull like a bouncy ball cause i love sharks and the 141 monster au

imagine an oceanic whitetip shark merman (i did mention whitetips a few times in my past ask, they're one of my favorite sharks) being in tf141 with the boys. whitetips are known for being one of the more aggressive sharks and some of the strongest in the ocean. like dragons, whitetips are prideful and stubborn in nature. they also tend to be on the larger end of merfolk, having muscular and tanky bodies to support their natural aggression. whitetips tails especially are strong so they can swim fast enough to keep up with prey - so their legs are naturally stronger to keep up with the weight of their powerful shark tail.

whitetips tend to be picky with their mates - like most of the larger shark merfolk, i imagine they'd want someone who can match their strength, and well after sparring with any four of the boys they'd definitely realize that "oh damn. maybe he is suitable" then go through the strange process of trying to court whoever they sparred with. it would involve a lot of nibbling and following them around to really determine if he's right, along with a few lost teeth that soooomehow end up on the desk of who they're courting.

ahem also dragon price and mershark reader makes me think. just a small note

but yeah that's all :) thank you for making my brain turn into a bouncy ball over my obsession with sharks and monsterfucking LMAO

Oh oh oh what if sharkmer are polygamous? Like it's so rare to find another of their kin so any time they find someone and they're compatible they end up joining/creating a polycule where everyone's fucking everyone?

So like, pre-existing poly141 with a new member reader, and at first you don't think too highly of them. But them you start sparring with them, get your ass handed as often as you hand it out, and yeah. . . you're smitten.

Soap fucking loves your little habit of nibbling on him, you two winding up on the couch somewhere with you nibbling on his pecs while he does the some to your tail, Price having a good laugh when he finds you two purring while you do it.

Gaz just likes your bulk, the fact you're so much wider and bigger than him, dwarfing him in size. I hc harpies have this old instinct to rest/nest in like caves or something, so when you wrap your strong arms around you it just makes him feel so safe, especially if you then tuck his head into your neck and he can't see and it's like he's surrounded by heaven, calm and relaxed in the same way raptors are calm when they got that hood on their head.

Ghost likes the fact you're generally quiet, likes the fact you can keep up with him and even pin him down (as well as a wraith can be pinned down). Likes being forced to submit under you, both of you tumbling around on the ground in an attempt to defeat the other until your thick tail is sweeping him out from under his feet and you're nibbling on his neck.

Price takes the longest to come around with you, mostly because he's so possessive and protective of what's his. But he sees you take care of his hoard, take care of him, and the next time you return from a mission, still wet from the swimming you'd had to do, Price pulls you into his office, a deep rumble in his throat. "Did well back there." He says as he takes your hand and bites it, keeping eye contact with you so you know he knows what he's doing, and suddenly you're lunging at him with the intent to mate.

And also sharks have 2 dicks soooo👀

[witches-dream]

Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.