#MY PRINCE YOU KEEP SHOOTING ME IN THE CHEST MY PRINCE
Text
Stargoth oneshot - Ice Skating
“Seriously, Deacon?” Chase grumbled. “You just had to get close to the pony at the fair.”
Deacon glared at Chase before lifting up his bandaged arm, healing from being broken by an angry miniature pony. “Hey, remember! You can’t talk! I jinxed you earlier!”
“Ya, I think that cancelled out when you yelled my name out in pain a little over three times when that pony kicked you.”
Chase sighed and shook his head. “Guess I’ll be doing the work on my own for a bit until you heal up..”
Deacon sank into his bed, grumbling under his bed.
Chase looked over at Bronze. “Keep an eye on him?”
Bronze shrugged. “Got nothing better to do.”
Chase picked up Silver and smiled at her. “Ready for this?”
She smiled and did a curtsy. “Always!”
Chase reached for a random book, merely glancing at the title before inserting the key.
When he opened his eyes, he felt like he was in Christmas Town from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
He looked at his outfit. A skin tight blue suit with a fur collar, puffballs, and a mid length cape with a snowflake theme.
“Another great outfit, Silver!” he said happily. He took a step and nearly fell. That’s when he realized he’s also wearing ice skates and he’s on a frozen pond.
“Oh shoot. I haven’t ice skated in years..” He slapped his face and shook his head. “No matter! For I am Chase Hollow, and I can do anything!”
He attempted to glide over the ice, but instead face planted. That was when he heard skrrrrch coming his way. He looked up and really wish he hadn’t.
“Buddy,” he said bluntly.
“Did you seriously choose a story like this when you don’t even know how to ice skate?” Buddy asked, raising a smug eyebrow.
“I know how to skate! Just.. rusty!” he grumbled as he struggled to get to his feet.
“Mhm..”
Chase finally managed to get to his feet and looked at Buddy.
Ugh. One of the most frustrating things about hating this absolute tool is that Chase finds him extremely hot.
He can’t help it! Goth guys have always been his type!
And with Buddy’s low cut black shirt with navy trim and a black and white cloak barely covering his shoulders to show off the fishnet undershirt he was wearing underneath.. ya, Chase felt like his heart would burst out of his chest.
Whatever! The black snowflake tiara that he was wearing was lame and that’s all he decided to focus on.
“So,” Buddy started. “Where’s your little sidekick?”
“Huh?”
“You never seem to go into a story without him anymore.”
“He’s.. busy for a bit.”
“Busy? If you have the responsibility of being a key holder, you can’t afford to be busy.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go outside and touch grass. Maybe that’ll make you less of a prick,” he said before turning and skating away.
The entire kingdom seemed to be on ice, all the villagers also wearing ice skates as they made their way around town.
Doesn’t that get exhausting, though? Chase wondered.
He looked around, wondering what he had to do to trigger the story.
That’s when he spotted it. A sign for The Royal Ice Skating Challenge.
“That seems plot important,” he murmured to himself as he skated closer to the sign to get a better look at it.
“In the Icicle Forest. Where’s that?” he thought. He looked around, hoping to find a road of some sort. But no. No land in sight. Not even a forest. Just. Ice. He felt like he was playing in a superflat Minecraft world right now.
“The prince!” Shouted one villager. “He’s here!”
Here we go… Chase thought as he mentally prepared himself to deal with another boring prince.
“Hello!” he said to the overly sparkly man (and Chase loves sparkles, but this guy was seriously overdoing it).
“Ah! Hello. You are a baker?” he asked, gesturing at what the heroine character must’ve been wearing.
“Yepppp. That’s me. Listen, I was wondering if I could join your ice skating challenge thing!”
“Oh! Why of c-!”
But he was cut off by Gothy McGothFace, who skated to the prince’s side.
“Really, sir? Are you really going to let a peasant join the challenge?”
“I.. well, why wouldn’t I, Iclyn?”
Iclyn? Chase thought. What an on the nose name. What, is my name something like Frosta?
“Frosta!” shouted a voice from behind him. “Come inside and help serve the customers!”
Chase groaned slightly and glared at ‘IcLyN’ before skating off to whoever was calling him.
“I gotta find out where that Ice Skating Competition will be..” he said quietly to himself. He saw the lady who called to him, who was shaking her head.
“Your father is getting tired of you always running off, Frosta.”
“Oh, um, sorry.. mom?” he guessed.
She sighed and ruffled his hair. “It’s all right. Just get to your station.”
He touched the spot she had ruffled, processing the motherly affection before forcing himself to snap out of it.
She’s not your real mom, Chase. He forced himself to think.
“Hey, mom. Where’s the Icicle Forest from here?”
“Now, Frosta, why would you need to know that?”
“Uh. Some competition.”
“The Royal Ice Skating Competition? Frosta, honey, why would you want to do that? You know there’s no possible way you can win.”
“What?! But mom-!” Chase had heard those words too many times. ‘Chase, you are never going to be a singer. Give up.’ The only person who believed in him 100% was.. his mom.
“No, mom. I will win! And I’ll prove it to you when I bring home the trophy.”
“Trophy? The prize is a tiara.”
“Um.. I’ll bring home the tiara!”
She sucked in her lips for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows before sighing. “But Frosta. Your skating is.. mediocre at best.”
Even though he wasn’t really Frosta and this wasn’t really his mom, he had to admit, that stung.
“Yknow what? I don’t need you! I’ll find the forest on my own!”
He turned and bolted out the door. He tried to slow down when he panicked at his speed, but had too much momentum and slammed into another house.
“Ow..”
“Ohhh,” said that annoyingly familiar voice. “That’s gotta sting.”
“You’re not as cool as you think you are.”
Buddy arched an eyebrow. “Pun not intended, I should hope?”
“No, pun absolutely intended. I’m no coward.”
“I..” he shook his head and pinched his brow. “Nevermind.”
Chase got back to his feet and brushed off his clothes, even if there was no dust to brush off.
“I just need to find where the Icicle Forest is and I’m all set.”
“Mhm. Well, good luck with that.”
“Hey, hey, hey!! Do you know where it is?”
He tilted his head and arched his eyebrow. “Why, I don’t know. Do I? I don’t have the Helper Key.”
“Ughhhh…”
He watched as Buddy skated off into the distance. He looked around the town for some sort of map.
“Do you know where I can find a map to the Icicle Forest?” he asked one villager.
“Oh Frosta, why would you need to get there?”
“Because I’m joining the competition.”
“Silly girl. You know you won’t win.”
That was basically every conversation he had when he asked for help.
People seriously treat me, er, her, pretty shitty.
He groaned and leaned against a building wall, sitting on the freezing ground. Just when he was about to give up hope, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie.”
He turned to the voice and saw a little old lady standing over him.
“Oh, uh-“
She sighed. “Your mother told me about your plan.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “You going to try and talk me out of it?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “No, no. I think it’s a great idea. But you should practice on your figure skating a bit more.”
He felt like letting out a long groan. “But the competition-!”
“Is tomorrow. You can spend all day and night practicing. Listen to grandma.”
“I… right. Sorry.. grandma.”
She helped him up and he looked around anxiously. “Where do I practice?”
“Anywhere, sweetie. The world is your rink.”
He thought about that for a moment. He was starting to realize how badly his ankles were hurting from skating this entire time. Geez, that hurts.. But he forced himself to ignore it.
He went to find a clear area, which wasn’t too hard. (Seriously, this place is so empty, it’s almost eerie)
He closed his eyes and tried to remember any figure skating he may have seen. But the only form of figure skating he’s ever seen was from Yuri On Ice.
He tried to lift his leg up as high as he could, but he felt like his back was going to snap.
He heard a laugh behind him and he whipped his head around, expecting to see that annoying fucker, but instead he saw the prince from earlier.
“You are.. quite bad,” he said, laughing.
Chase crossed his arms and glared at him. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically.
“No, I mean it in a playful way. Say, would you like some help?”
He gave him a confused look. “Why would you help me?”
“In all honesty.. I would rather have anyone win but Iclyn.”
“Really? Why?”
“She said is she wins she will make me her husband. I.. would rather not have that.”
“Oh. Oh! So, like, team up to make sure she loses?”
“That is what I was hoping for,” he said, nodding.
“Well, that benefits me too. So I’m in!”
Him and the prince shook hands.
The rest of that day, the prince helped Chase on forms and jumps and all that other stuff. He had to admit, this was probably the best prince he’s met, even if he was overly sparkly.
But Chase couldn’t help the feeling that someone was watching them. But everytime he looked around, he didn’t see anyone.
They practiced until it was pitch black outside, the moonlight reflecting on the ice, casting a faint silver glow.
“You’re amazing, Frosta,” the prince said. “I know you’ll do great tomorrow.”
Chase smiled at the praise. After a whole day of people beating him down, the compliments really helped lift his spirits.
“Thanks. I should be heading home now. To rest.”
“Yes. Have a good rest of your night.”
Chase waved goodbye as he skated off, smiling. That was actually really fun.
As he approached his house, he felt a figure loom over him.
He turned and just as he did, Buddy pinned him to the wall.
“What were you doing?”
“Hey! Let me go! I was just practicing my skating!”
“With the prince?”
“Ya! What, is that not part of the story?!”
“It.. is. But you were really enjoying yourself out there.”
“Ya, I wa- Wait. Were you spying on us?!”
“Of course I was. Nothing goes unseen,” he hissed.
“Ugh, you’re such a creep!” he exclaimed before shoving him away.
“Ugh. Whatever. I don’t care, anyways!”
He watched as Buddy skated away. Chase clenched his fists and huffed.
But you do care.. he thought.
Inside the house was a hard wood floor. Where they got the wood to even build these places was beyond Chase’s knowledge, but he didn’t thinking about it as he collapsed onto the floor, his feet and ankles swollen and sore.
So tired…
Before he even knew it, he found himself passed out on the floor, snoring away.
By the morning, he was woken up to a gentle shaking. He slowly opened his eyes and found the old lady from earlier waking him up.
“Frosta. Wake up. You need to prepare for the challenge.”
“Ughhh…” he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling like absolute shit. His feet were still sore and his knees were shaky.
He sat up and rubbed his ankles and calves in an attempt to soothe the absolute pain, and to apologize to them for the fact that he’s about to put them through more torture.
He stood up reluctantly and the old lady handed him a slate of ice.
“It’s a map to the Icicle Forest. Stay safe, Frosta. I believe in you!”
He smiled at the encouragement. “Thanks. I’ll, uh.. I’ll see you when I win!”
He put on the ice skates and followed the map. There was nothing out in this field. The most interesting thing he’s managed to spot it is that there is an ocean. But no landmarks, which was weird.
Until he saw it in the distance.
A forest made of ice spikes jutting upwards, and instead of grass, there was huge, random patches of snow.
He entered the strange biome and looked around but seeing nothing specifically. But this place did cast some weird shadows.
“Now where in the forest is this competition..?”
He felt like he was wandering for hours. And then he looked up at the sky and realized he hadbeen wandering for hours.
“NOOO! Where AM I?!”
“Lost?” a voice purred behind him.
He turned and internally groaned. “Buddy.”
“Heh. Of course you would manage to get lost so easily.”
“Oh ya? And what are you doing here?”
“You were taking so long to arrive. I got curious. The competition starts in an hour, yknow?”
“Ya, I know,” he hissed. “Just lead me to there! Don’t you want to get this story over with too?”
Buddy thought for a moment. “I dunno. The ending to this story is rather unappealing to me.”
“What? You lose? That happens to you in every story.”
“It’s not just that I lose. There’s some more to it.”
“Huh?”
“Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Forget about it.”
Chase watches as Buddy seemed to glide over the ice like it was nothing. Like he was almost weightless.
“Cmon. Just lead the way, please.”
He narrows his eyes before shaking his head and sighing. “Fine. Follow me..”
Chase jumped a little, which nearly cost him his balance as he followed him.
“Man, this place is a lot colder than the village.”
“Yes, well, with an outfit like your’s, it’s no surprise you’re getting so cold so easily.”
“Hey! Your’s isn’t any better!”
“Well, I’m naturally cold, so I have nothing to worry about.”
“Tsk. Prick..” Chase grumbled.
He attempted to just ignore the cold, but the deeper and deeper they went in, the colder it got. Even Buddy seemed affected by it, as he was inching bit by bit closer to Chase, shivering slightly.
“Thought you were naturally cold, Mr. Emo Snowman,” Chase said sarcastically.
“Shut up. We’re almost there.”
“Geez, why did they pick the coldest area for this stupid contest? This is some bull!”
“Whining will get you no where.”
“Oh, it’ll get me somewhere, all right. It’ll get me right on your nerves.. I-I’m getting on your nerves, is what I’m trying to say.”
“Ughhh! You are so stupid..”
Chase glared at him and shoved him into the snow. “I don’t need your sour attitude! Or your insults!”
“Why you little-!”
But before Buddy had a chance to get up and shove him back, there was a loud sound of skates cutting along ice.
“You two!” said a man in knightly clothes. “Are you here for the skating contest?”
“Ummm… yes,” Chase said, quickly fixing his hair. “Yes we are!”
“Well, hurry along! It starts soon!”
Chase scrambled to follow after him, Buddy doing the same thing, shooting cold glares in Chase’s direction.
They reached an opening in the ‘forest’. Fairylights hug from icicle to icicle, illuminating the area with a glow bouncing off the ice.
Chase spotted the prince off in the distance and he smiled widely and waved over to him, Buddy glaring daggers into him and smacking Chase’s hand down.
“Ah-? Hey!”
But Buddy just rolled his eyes and skated away, as if he wasn’t being infuriating on purpose.
Chase went up to the prince.
“Are you ready, Frosta?”
“Born ready!”
“Thank you for working so hard on this. Truly. I am so scared I’d have to marry Iclyn.”
“Yaaa.. say, what is so bad about her, anyways?”
“She’s so possessive and clingy, despite the fact that we’re not even together. She’s aggressive to anyone who shows any interest in me. It’s all so annoying.”
“I see..” Weird. Buddy is also kinda like that..
He looked out at the opening, fresh ice, skaters preparing for their own routines.
“Are you ready, Frosta?”
“Ya!”
“Are you pumped?!”
“Ya!!”
He looked out at the opening again and saw Buddy going out. He’s about to do his routine.
I’m actually kind of curious..
He decided to watch intensely. And.. perhaps he felt himself getting a little too immersed in the dance as he watch Buddy dip low to the ice, spinning around as his dark hair flowed in the wind, sweat flying from his face and his sharp blue eyes hard with focusing.
And.. ya, he never got so excited by a figure skating leaping, but somehow Buddy managed to absolutely grab his full attention.
After the performance, Chase looked around, seeing if there was anyone who was absolutely hypnotized by the performance. But, instead, everyone looked bored.
“It was kind of a boring performance.”
“I’ve seen those same things but done much more interestingly.”
Chase was surprised by everyone’s remarks. Was he the oddball for being so into it? Or is the people being unimpressed just part of the story?
He looked at Buddy’s face and realized..
No.
Those reactions weren’t meant to be part of the story. Buddy’s face said it all. It was a mediocre performance by professional standards.
And Chase could see that Buddy was doing everything he could to suppress the anger. Chase.. knew what that was like. He was often met with the same reactions for his singing. He hated it too.. he hated it a lot..
As the two skated past each other, Chase paused. “Your performance was very impressive, Buddy.”
Buddy paused and clenched his fists before letting out a scoff-laugh. “Yes, thank you, Frosta,” he said back, almost bitterly.
Geez.. just trying to be nice..
Chase skated toward the center and waved out to the crowd. He prepared and struck a pose. He didn’t have a lot of time to create a whole routine. Do, instead he may or may not have.. stolen his.
Yes, that’s right. He, Chase Hollow, had to steal a routine from Yuri On Ice, performing Yuri’s Eros routine. He’s not proud to admit that he’s plagiarizing.
But still. He was having so much fun performing it. He looked over at Buddy while he was performing and he noticed him staring.. really intensely, which did make Chase nervous, causing the performance to get sloppy.
But once he was done, there was an eruption of applause and cheering.
“Yes! Yes! Thank you! I know, I’m amazing!”
He skated over to Buddy, smiling proudly and smugly.
“Was that performance.. from Yuri On Ice?”
“EH-!” He froze, standing there as he processed being called out.
“Weeb…” Buddy murmured before skating off.
…. WHAT A JERK! Wait a minute…
“HOW DID YOU RECOGNIZE WHAT IT WAS FROM UNLESS YOU KNOW THE ROUTINE FROM HEART AS WELL!?” he called out.
He could’ve sworn he saw Buddy’s ears turn red, but he just ignored him.
“Frosta!” he heard a voice yell out from behind him. “The judges announced you as the winner!”
“Really? Wait, but only me and Iclyn performed, was there no one else in the competition-?” he decided to just put it at ‘nevermind’, so stories can be weirdly short and very unspecific or muddy with the details.
The prince held up a gorgeous silver tiara and placed it onto his head.
“Frosta. You are.. fantastic. I’m so proud of you!” The prince blushed slightly.
There’s the rushed romantic feelings. Chase thought.
“I hope you continue to skate!”
“Hm? Well. Thanks. I’ll… do that. But for now, I gotta go show my mom this tiara that I won. She underestimated me and I’m going to rub it in her face.”
“Ah.. well. Have fun with that, Frosta..” he said awkwardly with a crooked smile.
He waved off to the prince. The trek through the forest wasn’t nearly as awful as it was last time, actually knowing where he was supposed to go now. Though, the cold had just hit him, causing him to shiver so hard he nearly lost balance on his skates.
He saw the village in the distance and he nearly burst into tears. His legs were in so much pain and he just wanted to sit down.
As he entered the town, the villagers looked out at him and smiled at him.
“Frosta! We heard about the competition!”
“We’re so proud of you!”
“We knew you could do it!”
Eh?!? You literally had 0 faith in me winning! Don’t you lie to me!
He spotted the bakery Frosta’s mom owned.
Time to go show off my prize! Haha!
But just before he opened the door, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside.
“You..” Buddy said darkly.
“Ah! Hey, what the hell-?!”
“I can’t let this final half of the story play out.”
“What are you talking about! Ugh, let me go!”
But then he noticed the look on Buddy’s face. Almost terrified.
“Buddy? Geez, why are you acting like this? Isn’t this just like every other fairytale ending? What, do I die or something?”
“No, it’s just..”
He was cut off by a blaring trumpet. They turn to see the prince and 2 knights skating into the village.
Frosta’s mom pokes her head out of the shop upon hearing the noise.
She spots Chase and gasps upon seeing the crown.
“Frosta?!”
“Oh, uh.. hey mom! TOLD YOU I’D WIN!!”
“Frosta!” called out the prince, gesturing for him to come forward.
Chase shot one final glare at Buddy before breaking away from him and heading to the prince, ready for this story to finally be over with.
“Hellllo prince,” Chase said, waving.
What happened next, he didn’t expect. The prince grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a hug.
“Woah, uh, personal space there, dude-“
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Huh?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were my long lost fiancé?”
“….HUH?!”
Wait, I’m his what now!?
“Oh, uh, yknow, haha, just, I, um..”
“I can’t believe you had run away.”
“Oh, uhhhhhhhh…”
This is what I get for never reading the stories!!
“But I remember you told me we would reunite.” The prince grasped Chase’s face and pulled him into.. A KISS?!
“PLEGHHH! UGHH, DUDE! WHY?!”
“It was meant to be a.. a kiss to, yknow.. say hello again.”
“STILL! YOU DON’T JUST KISS SOMEONE WITHOUT PERMISSION! UGH! THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS!”
Behind Chase was a thudding noise.
He turns to see Buddy on his knees, sulking dramatically.
“Aw, and what’s up with you, mall goth?!?”
“The kiss was unavoidable,” he said, his voice strained.
“Hah?”
Buddy didn’t answer, instead pulling out his key.
“Hey, where are you going?!”
Buddy didn’t answer before disappearing.
I’ve never seen him react like that to.. anything!
He tightly closed his eyes to think about the matter at hand. He turned to the prince. “You!! At first I thought you were pretty bearable for a prince, but you had to ruin it with your overall lack of care for consent!”
“But, Frosta-“
“Oh, don’t FrOsTa me, you big creep!!”
Chase pulled out his key. “I think I’m done with this story, I’m going home!”
“Wait, but-!”
He didn’t hear what he had to say as he woke up in his bedroom.
“Ughhh… and here I thought that prince wasn’t too bad.”
“Oh, you’re back!” Deacon said, poking his head in. “How was it?”
“It was fine at first! But then the Prince got all grabby. And, honestly, so did Buddy.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Well, Buddy grabbed me and pinned me to a wall, like, twice. And he said he didn’t want the story to be complete. Like, huh?! Since when has he never wanted to properly finish a story?!”
“Ok.. and what did the prince do?”
“Well, after that whole thing with Buddy, the prince showed up and made me kiss him!”
“Oh ya. That’s how the story ends, to seal the deal of their marriage or whatever. Wait. Buddy didn’t want the story to end.. how did he react after the prince kissed you.”
“I dunno. He was sulking I think? He disappeared before I had a chance to talk to him.”
“….Uhuh…”
“What? What is it?”
Deacon sighed and shook his head. “You are so dense…”
Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cool awesome fanart of my and @avephelis 's Krunker Strike Suckening RP. You had to be there.
#jrwi#jrwi the suckening#the suckening#jrwi grefgor#shilo bathory#Avephelis told me to post this#From our aggie session#Baby's first jrwi art (And baby's last jrwi art)#I say this like I did a Shilo impression but 90% of it was me laughing bc I kept killing Avephelis while he was doing a Grefgor impression#MY PRINCE YOU KEEP SHOOTING ME IN THE CHEST MY PRINCE#IT'S OKAY MY PRINCE ANYTHING TO GET YOU THAT VICTORY ROYALE#MY PRINCE I CAN'T FIND YOU (Moving at 2fps)
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lollipops
Post-War: Levi Ackerman x Reader
wc: 4.3k
warnings: SPOILERS. im so serious guys. SPOILERS. if you havent watched/read to the FINALE, do not progress. you've been warned. also theres a little tiny bit of gore.
a/n: this is self-defense writing to protect my sanity after the last ep. im so not okay with it being over. also requests are open, i'll write anything! also, this is written in flashbacks. but never fear, the flashbacks are separated from the present by dividers, so you'll know when it switches.
“You two are like a fairytale couple,” a young girl giggles, hugging a pink-covered book to her chest. “Like a damsel and her prince.”
You smile, pulling a lollipop out of your box — and then another, handing them to her. “Take two for sweet-talking me. But remember that true love isn’t perfect by any means.”
She grins, nods, and takes her candy, sprinting off into an old woman’s arms. You sigh softly, looking up to see that the line of children coming to receive candy from Paridian heroes is momentarily empty.
“Not perfect, huh?” Levi asks from beside you, shifting in his chair.
You roll your eyes, gently flicking the side of his head. You crouch down to be on his level. “You’re saying that we had a fairytale romance? That you swept me off my feet and carried me away from danger?”
“Yes. I would. Now get your ass up, I don’t need you to get down for me,” he scowls, his eyes flicking over your kneeling form.
“I would get down on my knees for you anyti—”
“Up.”
You grin, but listen to him and stand up, picking up your box once more. “Fairytale, huh? So what are you, the savior?”
“I’d say it’s even. Although, I remember saving your ass much more often than you saved mine.”
You scoff, putting your hands on your hips. “Name a time!”
“Get your ass up, scout!”
You groan, shoving yourself up onto your elbows. “Just a sec,” you manage between heavy breaths, coughing and coughing.
Hoofbeats approach and you whimper, knowing that if that’s the captain you think it is, you’re about to get the beating of a lifetime.
“Why, exactly, are you laying in the dust?” Captain Levi Ackerman asks, tone cold and voice sharp as a knife. “You’re a transfer, not a cadet. From the MP’s, even. I expected better.”
“I’m recovering from an injury, Captain,” you wheeze out, pressing a hand to your side and shoving yourself up onto your knees. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“You’d better be. Now, up. On your feet, or be left behind.”
You pull one foot under you, then the other, and nearly collapse. His arm shoots out to grab your bicep, effectively keeping you up as your side screams in protest, ribs aching and tears springing to your eyes.
“What kind of an injury?” he asks, his grip tightening. “Why on earth would you switch to the Survey Corps while injured?”
“Ribs,” you hiss, gripping your side. The doctors have said that nearly all your ribs on your right side are either bruised, fractured, or completely broken. “And I had no choice. I had to leave.”
He narrows his eyes, but slowly releases you, making sure you’re not going to fall over the second he lets go. “You’re in no condition to be training, and I don’t need you getting worse. I have no interest in crippled soldiers. Go inside and get yourself assigned to kitchen duty for the next two weeks, on Ackerman’s orders.”
Your eyes slowly shift up from the ground to him, and you get your first good look at him.
And holy shit, the rumors of Humanity’s Strongest did not mention how mouth-wateringly attractive he is.
You give the dumbest nod you’ve ever given and turn on your heel. You hobble your way inside, and then immediately lean against a cold, stone wall, repeating to yourself in your head over and over again:
We are not falling for a captain.
We are not falling for a captain.
You open and close your mouth, then shrug. “Okay, but of course you were going to save my ass a lot while I was training. I’m sure it got better once I was a captain.”
“Did it, though?”
You elbow him, scowling. A smirk dances on his lips.
A woman grinning ear-to-ear starts your way, and you narrow your eyes. “She’s too old for candy.”
“Reporter,” Levi grumbles, looking down into his box, as if not making eye contact will stop her from approaching.
“Hi!” She shouts, giving a big wave. “I was hoping to ask you two a quick few questions, while you’re not too busy.”
“We’re quite busy,” Levi drones.
“Ah! I had heard about that grumpy attitude!” The reporter laughs, then looks at you. “And you must be his sunshine!”
You scratch the back of your neck, shrugging. “Something like that.”
The reporter whips out a pen and paper. “Now, all sources say that tog two have been married for quite some time, but nothing ever tells me when you two met, or how! Do tell.”
“We met in the service,” you start, rubbing your chin. “I had just transferred to the military police, so I was starting fresh in the Survey Corps.”
She quirks a brow. “Why did you transfer?”
The air simply won’t come to your lungs. You can’t breathe. The night sky doesn’t help, the fresh cool air is only suffocating you more.
You drop to the grass in the courtyard, one hand on your healing side and the other around your throat. Tears pour down your face, and you cough, and cough, and cough, and gasp.
It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. You can still remember what really happened, his hand around your neck, boot in your side, the bruises along each ridge of your spine from being tossed into a wall.
Your ribs may have been almost fully healed now, after two months being a Scout, but you still can feel each kick he gave you just for telling him no.
“Breathe.”
You sputter, looking up to see Captain Levi kneeling in front of you. He grips your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.
“Breathe, come on. Take a deep breath.”
You try, you really do, but you only end up sobbing harder. Your hands clench the grass.
He sighs heavily, scooting over to your side and awkwardly patting your back. “Breathe.”
You manage to slow your breathing, and take a few good deep breaths. Then you immediately stumble to your feet. “…Sorry. I’ll head back now.”
His hand is around your wrist before you can even register that he’s gotten up. “Why are you out here so late, crying in the damn courtyard?”
“It’s nothing. Just a bad dream, you murmur, tugging your hand away from him and heading back inside.
You feel assessing eyes on your back as you walk, and you can’t help but look down at your hand, that hand that you wore a ring on for a year and a half.
You’ve fallen silent, chewing your lip and looking off to the side. The reporter tilts her head, raising a brow.
“She just needed a fresh start,” Levi answers for you, placing a hand on your hip for reassurance. “And that’s what she got.”
She accepts that answer, writing down the words. “Now, how did you two end up together? Was it live at first sight?”
Levi scoffs. “Far from it.”
You glare at him. “Well, I liked you.”
“No, you hated me. You just wanted to fuck.”
“Thank you, Hange,” you grin, folding up the card again and tucking it back into the envelope, which reads ‘Congrats, new Captain!’. “I really appreciate it.”
A year in the Survey Corps flew by fast, and you had shown immense skill in the craft, therefore earning the title of Captain of your very own squad.
But your skills weren’t the only thing that had developed. You and Levi tolerated each other now, even if he thought you were loud and chaotic and you thought he was grumpy and sad, like a lonely old man.
And yet, you were drawn to him. He was handsome, and every once in a while you’d say something that would make his mouth tilt up, and… that mouth. It would be the death of you.
Hange heads out, leaving you alone in your room for the first time in hours. Everybody had been in and out, offering congratulations and words of advice.
You sink back onto your bed, yawning. It’s been a long day, and now you just want to sleep—
But a knocking comes on your door, and in walks Levi.
“I could have been naked,” you grin as he strides over, dumping a pile of paperwork on your desk.
“Captains have more paperwork than everybody else. I’ve been assigned to show you how to fill it out.”
“I bet you were hoping I was naked” you tease, but get up anyway, running a hand down your face as you stand next to him.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re boring.”
“Boring? Really?”
“Yeah.”
There is a short silence, with Levi sorting through the papers. And suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that you are in your bedroom, alone, with Levi Ackerman.
And apparently he’s aware of it too, because he gives you a look.
And then you jump on him.
The reporter laughs and scratches a few things down on her pad of paper, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “And what year was this?”
“We met in 846, and then started seeing each other romantically in 847,” you explain. You open a lollipop and stick it in your mouth.
The reporter only stares at you, a brow lifted and eyes narrowed.
“Eleven years ago,” Levi says, and then she nods and writes it down.
“What—”
“Different years,” Levi murmurs, shaking his head. “They’re in the damn 1900’s, remember.”
You flush, blood rushing to your ears and cheeks. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with the rest of the world, you always forget that years are different and you can take a plane somewhere and getting a papercut doesn’t mean you might die of sepsis.
For you, it’s still 858.
“Did you two personally know Eren Jaeger?”
You crouch by the bars, tilting your head as you examine him. Just a child. Skinny. He couldn’t hurt a fly.
“This is the titan child?” You ask, squinting. “He’s, what, fifteen?”
“Yes. Please step back,” Levi says. “You don’t need to be that close.”
“He’s like a fleck of dirt in a crop field. I need to be this close to see him. Are you sure he really—“
The chains on his arms rattle, and you skitter back, slamming into the wall beside Levi.
“Careful,” he scowls, brushing dirt off of your shoulder.
“What… happened?” The boy asks, rubbing his eyes.
Erwin launches into a full explanation, and by the time he’s done the boy looks completely lost.
“You’re… the commander of the Survey Corps,” he looks at Erwin, “…And Captain Levi, and Captain {Y/N}… where am I?”
“A dungeon—”
Erwin keeps speaking, but a thump near the staircase catches your attention. You stride off, past the MP guards, and peek around the corner.
There, struggling against a guard, is the young girl that you’ve been told is Mikasa.
You scowl, shutting the door behind yourself and storming up to her.
“Calm down,” you whisper, taking both her wrists in one hand and pushing her up against a wall. “Do you realize what you’re risking here?”
“You don’t understand, I need to see him—”
“Shut up. You’re risking his freedom by coming this close. Go back upstairs.”
She glares at you, damn near baring her teeth. But you hold firm, and she slowly nods.
“Good, now go.”
You release her, and with one final glance over her shoulder, she trudges up the stairs.
You run a hand through your hair, thinking to yourself: these new scouts are going to be an issue, aren’t they?
“Yes,” you say, nodding. “We knew all of the kids.”
“All of them?” she asks, furiously scratching down your words.
“We were both captains when Eren’s year entered the corps — we trained them. Of course we knew them all.”
“On my squad,” you read off of your paper, speaking to the large crowd in front of you — all the scouts that will be on the next expedition. “…I am pulling in an extra scout. Mikasa Ackerman will join me in the center ranks.”
Whispers run through the crowd, and you step off of the stage, taking your spot next to Levi in the captains line. Erwin picks up a speech, talking about the squad formations.
A tap on your shoulder makes you turn, and your eyes widen as you’re met with your favorite chaos trio: Jean, Sasha, and Connie.
“Get into your formation,” you hiss.
“But, here’s the thing,” Jean whispers. “I’ve been really great during training. What do I have to do to get on your squad?”
“Jean!” you narrow your eyes. “You are not getting on my squad.”
“I would bring you food every day,” Sasha pleads, putting her hands out in a prayer position. “Please! We’d be the best squad ever.”
You actually pause to consider that for the food, but Levi stomps on your foot. “Ow— Uhm, no. Now return to formation or I’ll bump you down a squad.”
They skitter off, moving through the crowd. You just hope that they’ll go to the right place this time.
You sigh, facing forward again. You’ve already heard everything that Erwin has to say, so this is all repeat to you.
You brush your hand against Levi’s, and his pinky touches yours. You lock them together, resisting the urge to just lean into his warmth.
Pinkies locked, you wait out the rest of the assembly.
“Would you say you were close with any of them?”
Levi shrugs. “They respected me. They loved her.”
“Oh, they loved you too,” you grin, patting his shoulder. “Loved you enough for Historia to smack you the second she was legally allowed to.”
“Have there been any hardships?” The reporter cuts in.
You pause. Levi pauses.
“Of course,” he murmurs, voice softer now. He brushes his fingertips against your thigh.
As soon as you make it in through the gate, Levi is at your side, pulling his horse up next to yours.
“Let me look,” he murmurs, beckoning with his hand.
You shake your head, cradling your messily bandaged hand to your chest. “No.”
“{Y/N}. Let me look,” his voice is more stern now.
You know the damage. You found a cloaked figure up high in the trees, you went for the attack, and they were faster than you. It was a clean cut. Your index and middle fingers are gone, as well as a chunk of your thumb.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I can’t take it off ‘till I reach the medics,” you whisper back, turning away from him. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
But he doesn’t leave. He stays by your side, silently. He rides with you all the way to the scout headquarters, silently. He walks with you to the medics, without a single word.
The medics take one look at you, and, having heard that you were coming in, usher you into a private room.
There are three medics with you, which means they consider your injury a serious one.
The lead medic closes the door, and then turns to you with a pitiful smile. “Let’s take a look, alright captain?”
You cradle your hand closer to your chest. You feel like a child, not wanting to accept what’s happened. But it’s… your hand… this is forever.
Levi gently touches your arm. “You don’t have to look.”
You can’t remember the last time Levi was so soft with you. You’ve been with him for years by now, but he’s just not a soft person.
Nevertheless, he pulls your face against his shoulder, stroking your hair. He carefully pulls your wrapped hand away from you, holding it out for the medics.
You feel it immediately when they start pulling the bandages off, and you bury your face into Levi’s shirt, whimpering.
“You’re alright. They’ve almost got it off,” he murmurs, holding your face against his chest.
The wrapping falls away, and there’s a soft gasp from one of the medics, followed by Levi stiffening.
“Is it bad?” you moan, crying out as someone prods something painful.
“Do you want me to lie?”
“No.”
“It’s not good. But it’s a clean cut, so they’re going to clean it and stitch it up for you. You’ll be fine.”
You fist his shirt. “…Please don’t go.”
He pulls you a little closer. “I won’t. I won’t leave your side.”
The next thing you know, they’ve stuck your hand in alcohol, and you’re screaming.
You tuck your half-hand into your pocket, out of the reporter’s watchful gaze.
“But you two are married, correct?”
Levi nods. “Yes.”
“When were you married?”
You look to Levi, smiling softly. “Well, twice. Once in Paradis, and they don’t acknowledge Paridian marriage licenses here, so we did it all over again a couple years ago.”
“When was the first time?”
Your hand has become a focus for you.
Just as you lay in bed now, holding your two and a half fingers above your head. The stitches have been taken out, leaving you with pinky and ring fingers, two little nubs cut below the first knuckle, and half of a thumb. It’s still healing, but this is pretty much what your hand will look like. Forever. Till the day you finally croak.
The door swings open, and you immediately feel Levi’s cold, calculating gaze. “Are you picking at it again?”
“No,” you roll your eyes. “Just looking. Y’know, at least I still have a ring finger.”
“Why does that matter?” He asks. He takes off his jacket and hangs it up, then sits on the bed beside you and starts on his boots.
“So one day I could wear a wedding ring.”
He pauses. You pause, realizing what just came out of your mouth.
He turns to face you, leaving one boot on and the other half off. “You’re interested in marriage.”
Suddenly your face feels hot. “…Yeah.”
“To me?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s really what you want?”
You nod, chewing your lip.
“Then marry me.” His face stays completely blank.
You sit up slowly, eyes wide. “You— you wanna marry me?”
“You already know that I love you. If you want marriage, it’s only logical that—”
You cut him off by tackling him, sending the both of you tumbling off the bed. Levi twists so that he’ll hit the ground and you’re just land on him, but you have no time to ask if he’s okay between all the kisses you’re showering across his face.
He scoffs. “Enough, woman.”
“You wanna be stuck with me!? Really?!” You grin, sitting up to be straddling his waist.
“I guess so.”
You throw your arms over your head, starting to sing to yourself. “You looooove me, you wanna maaaarry me, I’m gettin’ maaaarried,” you snap to your own little beat, dancing on his waist.
You look down at him, beaming, just to find him watching you with soft gray eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers.
The reporter smiles and nods, then looks over her notes. “Well, I just have one more question, and then I’ll leave you two be.”
Levi looks quite ready to be done, so you speak up. “Just make it quick.”
She nods, looking up at you one last time. “Did everyone else know you two were together?”
You sigh, reaching behind you and pulling your hair out of its ponytail. It’s been a long day, and all you want is to refill your ODM fuel for tomorrow and go to bed.
You approach the supply closet, but pause when you hear voices. You peer in, eyes widening at the sight.
Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, and Bertholdt all crowd around a table, coins in piles. But there are no cards. No game.
“Listen,” Connie says, throwing up his hands. “It’s just gotta be someone in the Survey Corps. There’s no way it’s not!”
“But wouldn’t we know if it was?” Jean adds, rubbing his chin. “There aren’t too many options.”
“Miche?” Mikasa proposes, spinning a coin in her fingers.
“What? No,” Eren scoffs. “Absolutely not. Armin, what do you think?”
Armin lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “I already lost my money on the bet that Captain {Y/N} would stay single. I thought she was the type to not want or need a man.”
Ah. So they’re betting… on my love life!?
“Well, she’s wearing a ring, that’s for sure…” Sasha rubs her chin. “What if it’s Levi?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Everyone in the room erupts into laughter.
“Ha! Her and Levi? When pigs fly!” Eren laughs, banging his fist on the table.
“You’re such an idiot,” Connie grins, shoving Sasha. “I’d say she’s a lesbian before that!”
You smirk and roll your eyes, walking away from the room. You just know that they’re gonna be knocked off their feet when they find out.
“No, no, it took them quite a while to find out,” you laugh, shaking your head. “They couldn’t have guessed it if they’d put all their little brains together — and believe me, they did.”
“So, how did they find out?”
“Alrighty, Armin,” you sigh, running a hand over your head. “Let’s get this transformation done. The area is cleared for miles, so just give me a few minutes to get out of dodge, and you’ll get the smoke signal to go ahead.”
He nods, chewing his lip.
“Hey,” you pat his shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
With that done, you turn, shooting your grappling hooks into a tree and soaring off into the forest.
After a few minutes, you’re damn near in the safe zone.
Near.
And then the sky lights up like a Christmas tree.
As expected, a massive explosion sounds behind you, and your ears immediately start to ring. More concerning, however, is the shrapnel made of trees and dirt and rocks flying your way.
You shriek, turning forward once more and zipping your way through the trees. Except, you have to hold your left sword in a weird way because of your hand, and then a gush of wind hits you and—
The branch you’re swinging from snaps, and you’re sent tumbling to the ground, unable to right yourself.
The grass gets nearer and nearer, and you fumble with your swords. But you won’t make it. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, and accept your fate—
Until you collide with Levi’s chest, and his arms are around you, and you’re zipping towards the safe zone.
“Holy shit,” you wheeze, coughing on stirred up dust. You grip his shoulders, shaking from all of the adrenaline rushing through you.
You’re back in the group with the others in no time, and Levi immediately puts you on the ground. But you don’t get a hug and a ‘thank god you’re alive.’ No, Levi puts his hands on your shoulders and shakes you.
“Are you crazy?” He hisses, gripping your jaw with one hand. “I’ve told you to hold your swords upside down like I do, so this wouldn’t happen. You almost died, and all because of your idiocy—”
“Levi—”
“No, I don’t want to hear it. You cannot go dying on me, you hear me? I will not lose you.”
You bite your lip, putting a hand on his chest. “Levi…”
“You are such a fucking idiot. I cannot believe I married someone who would risk her own life like that. You need to value yourself, damn it! You cannot leave me here alone—”
You shut him up with a kiss, rooting your hand in his hair. He kisses you back without hesitation, his hands flying to your waist.
“You’re not going to lose me,” you murmur, pulling away. “You saved me. You caught me. And I’m confident that you always will.”
His jaw clenches, a muscle feathering, and he opens his mouth, but a voice from the right interrupts whatever he had planned to say.
“Did I, uh… miss a chapter?” Jean asks.
You look over to find almost all of Eren’s friend group standing there, dumbfounded. Hange sits up in a tree, grinning ear to ear, but they’ve known about you two for years.
You grin, shaking your head. “The money goes to Sasha.”
“AND YOU ALL CALLED ME STUPID!” Sasha shrieks, throwing her hands up in the air.
“That’s all I need,” the reporter nods, and closes her notebook, tucking away her pen. “Nice meeting you two, heroes.”
She leaves with a wink, and just in time, because a little refugee boy has approached, hands behind his back.
You give him a soft smile, kneeling to be on his level. “Would you like a lollipop?”
The boy nods, giving a shy smile.
Levi reaches into his box, holding out a blue lollipop. He gives the child his softest smile, and in that smile you see it all.
You see the man that saved your ass more times than you can count. The man who presses a kiss to your temple when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. The man who blushes when you run your hands down his chest. The man who doesn’t give anyone that soft smile of his, except for on very rare occasions.
Your man.
The center of your universe.
The boy takes his lollipop, bows at the waist, and then skitters off with a mumbled ‘thank you.’
You watch him go, and then you turn back, met with Levi, holding out a lollipop to you.
You press a kiss to his scarred knuckles and take it, giving him your own soft smile. “I love you.”
“Yeah, you too, brat,” he chuckles, turning back to the box of candy.
And you remember the nights you spent eating sweets he brought back for you from town.
You remember every night with him.
Because Levi is your world. Your one and only.
And he always will be, from now until the end of time.
@jeannineee be proud of me bitch <3
#fanfiction#aot#levi aot#attack on titan#attack on titan fanfic#attack on titan fanfiction#levi ackerman#captain levi#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#second person#2nd person pov#post war aot#cassiefromhell
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
What about Monster!AU for prompt 5. Male reader and price please :)
Sure thing anon, made it a mage reader again, was trying to study for a 'lovely' surprise test but inspiration decided to strike me :/. Play the game HERE
Prompt: “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot.”
CW:NSFW, switch/power bottom Dragon Price, Male Mage reader, Oral, Anal, shower sex, semi public sex, reader is oblivious for a bit.
Price swears his hair and scales are going to go completely gray because of you.
You've been avoiding him for a week now, and all the base knows why — Price can still hear your desperate voice begging and bargaining with whatever will listen "I'll buy you dinner please-just stay alive- I love you- damn it you slimy bastard don't you dare die on me-" as you try to keep him alive, magic flowing from your arms to heal the gaping hole in his side despite the bullets raining overhead; a valiant knight protecting him like he's a prince instead of a dragon.
And Price can remember the way his heart had fluttered at your words, at the way you had hugged him so firmly to keep him safe as your magic raged all around you like a wild force of nature, at the way you looked at him so tenderly— eyes burning with mana like the gaze of a god he's your most prized possession —right before the blood loss made him black out.
But now that Price was out of the hospital, his side permanently marked with your magic and a hefty load of paperwork on his desk, you were acting like you never said anything. Anytime someone brings it up you just ignore them, ignore him, throwing yourself into training as much as you can. And it's getting on his nerves, his draconic blood making anger and malcontent burn in his bones because you'd looked at him like a mate but now it's like he doesn't exist beyond training and missions.
He knows it's against the rules, knows he shouldn't hope for much when he sets out to find you, but he does. It's not hard; though his sensitive nose easily picks up the stench of magic, it's the lingering mana burrowed into his skin that tugs him in a direction, even the foreign parts of him wanting you. He finds you alone in the training room, the ground around you scorched beyond hell.
"We need ta' talk lad." Price rumbles as he closes the door behind him, the deep thrum of his voice hiding the anxious pressure he feels in his chest.
Your head whips to look at him. Price cherishes the way your eyes soften when you see him like a glittering gem. Then a sea of ice settles over your eyes, and you turn your head back to the target dummy as if looking at Price makes you sick. "Nothing to talk about captain."
"That so?" Price asks like he doesn't believe you, because he doesn't. Ancient instincts tug on his mind and he follows them. You know he knows what's plaguing your mind, both of you are aware of the elephant in the room and Price can see the way your shoulders progressively tense as he draws near. But you're a stubborn fool, you refuse to show how his presence makes your heart beat faster despite how each of his steps rings like a gunshot in your ears.
Your mind fails to conjure up words but you force an "Hmh," out of your throat, trying to ignore how Price is so close to you, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His remaining wing stretches out, scales and leathery membranes barely brushing over your shoulder, but the intent is clear; the claim is clear.
You try to ignore him, ignore yourself, clinging to the sensation of your sharp mana digging into your veins as you summon another bout of magic to shoot at the training dummy, whisps of formless energy quickly forming into your preferred element.
His hand settles on your hip, not enough to make you loose focus just yet. "Because last ah remember," He leans in closer, the smell of black coffee and cigars on his breath. This close he can smell you instead of your magic, his chest rumbling against your back with a happy purr. "you promised me dinner if I lived."
You nearly choke on air, your magic sputtering out like an old car engine. "I-" You whirl around, your noses almost touching from how close you are. "-that's not what I'd meant!"
His heart should break at that, but before it can his sensitive ears pick up how rapidly your heart's pounding in your chest, reptilian eyes noting how you're flushed more than usual, breathing rapidly without even noticing it.
"Really now?" That greedy part in his bones urges him on, begging and pleading for him to just take you. His other hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you in place, close to him just like he wants. "Then ah suppose all that 'bout me bein' a slimy bastard was also not true?"
You want to flinch away but can't, your own body a traitor to you, a deep frown tugging on your lips. "Price, I wasn't-"
"And-" He cuts you off by leaning even closer, his forehead resting against yours and fuck, your head fits perfectly between his horns, like you belong there. "-I must've misheard you when you said you loved me?" He raises an eyebrow, voice both teasing and serious, holding his breath.
Just that small contact of skin on skin has your resolve crumbling like sand, "Listen, just-" You suck in a sharp breath, the situation both bliss and hell for you. “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot. Okay? And just-" You try to stammer the same lies you'd tell yourself every time you'd catch yourself thinking of him more than just your captain (which was way too often).
Price's clawed hand grips your chin and manually closes your mouth, his smooth scales cool against your warm body. You forget to breathe, your eyes flickering all over his face as he smirks, voice deep and guttural like the rumble of moving tectonic plates. "Then I'm an idiot too."
The world goes completely silent as he kisses you, holding your head still so he can claim your lips for himself, his deep purr shaking both of your chests when you submit so easily to him, like getting a gulp of fresh air after years of drowning.
You're so lost in his taste and his scent and just him you don't notice when Price roughly pulls you into the showers, tail and wing and arms holding your body; as if your brain could even conjure the thought of leaving. Bursts of awareness assault your mind every time you part for a breath and to displace a piece of clothing, his sharp claws tickling your skin as he can't wait and just cuts through your remaining clothes.
Clawed fingers grip your hair and tilt your head back, exposing your throat to sharp fangs and you submit easily, trusting him not to hurt you too much. Low sounds rumble in your throat as Price marks you, biting one spot until it bleeds your mana rich blood, greedily drinking up the crimson droplets and soothing the wound with his tongue just enough for the sting to become pleasant before biting again. Bite, lick, bite, lick, bite, lick— chest rumbling with satisfaction he pulls away, "Oh, look at you," He growls, your throat turned into a warzone, "So handsome, like a charming knight."
You snort and grip his hips, the water of the shower raining down the two of you. "Yeah?" You ask as you turn him around, pushing his chest against the wall as you drop to your knees. "Gonna let me lay you?" You ask, kissing down his spine, your rough hands groping and fondling his ass.
"Wanker," Price growls and lifts his tail, revealing his hole to you. You almost cum on the spot from the sight of it, looking every bit what you'd imagined he'd look like. But you don't get to look for long before his tail wraps around your throat, soft underbelly scales scraping against your bruised throat as he pulls you closer. "Only, if you prove your worth."
You don't need a formal invitation, pushing your tongue out as you slobber all over his hole, your hands keeping his asscheeks spread so you can worm your tongue into his hole, feeling him clench around your tongue, his moans ringing like angel song in your ears. His claws tangle in your hair, pushing your head even closer to worship him better. And you do, like a pious believer you lick and suck and nibble around his hole, your nose buried in the space between his ass and tail, barely able to breathe but it's a small price to pay.
Finally he grows greedy for more, his tail releases a fraction and he shoves you, making you fall back on your ass, your cock standing like a flagpole. You only manage to rise up on your elbows before Price jumps on you like the beast he is, thigh powerful thighs bracketing your own, his clawed fingers scraping against your skin as they settle on your shoudlers.
"Now then," Price rumbles like an ancient mountain, reptilian eyes hooded with lust. He feels on top of the world with the way you look at him, like a desperate mutt, your cock hard like a rock between his legs. "Stay still, mighty knight, an-" Price lifts himself up, positioning your cockhead at his puckered rim. "-relax."
The running water muffles your combined groans, his walls hot and tight like the fire in his chest. His weight bears down on you, wing stretching out in a show of pleasure, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants. "Fuck," Price growls, grinding his hips down into yours. "Feel so good, lad."
You grunt, your hands fitting on his hips like they always belonged there. Magic sparks across your arms as pleasure steadily erases your ability to think, but his thick scales keep him safe, a pleased groan leaving his chest as he starts bouncing on you, chasing his own pleasure. You can do nothing but hang on, your hips rising to meet his downward thrust, Price's lips swallowing your moans. You don't have enough sense in your head left to care if anyone was to come in and see you, your mind fully consumed by him.
You cum way too soon, your orgasm sneaking up to you, lightning rushing down your spine and magic sparking across your arms as your brain leaks out of your ears, shooting cum up into his greedy walls.
"Good- good lad." Price grinds his teeth, never stopping his bouncing, lewd sounds ringing through the showers from the way your cum squelches inside him. He rides you past the sting of overstimulation right back to hardness. His hand grabs yours, placing it over the scars on his abdomen where your magic had stitched him back together, greed and lust fueling his desires. "Protected me so good, yeah?" His hips never cease moving, that draconic endurance coming in handy to absolutely wrecking you. "Let me take care of you,"
And like a proper mate, you let him do as he pleases.
#Gnome's Prompt Game#cod mw2#x reader#gnome correspondence#trinkets from the hoard#male reader#captain john price#top male reader#john price x male reader#john price x reader#cod x male reader#cod smut#cod modern warfare#monster cod au#monster 141 au#mage reader
597 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shooting Blanks - Suguru Geto x Reader
Your boyfriend Suguru Geto gets a Prince Albert piercing and makes you wait the whole 6 weeks before you can sleep with him again. You take advantage when the wait is over.
Title: Shooting Blanks
Rating: Explicit
Warnings:
AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, Explicit PV Sex, m-Overstimulation, light bondage, cum shot, creampie, cum eating, Oral Sex f-receiving, multiple orgasms, piercings, pet names (baby & darling mostly) m-Masturbation, consensual voyeurism
Characters & ships: boyfriend!Suguru Geto x Reader
Word count: 4.2k words
18+ Minors DNI!
More explicit below the cut
6 weeks. You had to wait 6 whole weeks to have sex with your beautiful boyfriend, Suguru Geto, as his newest piercing healed. Those weeks were very, very long, and when you received the calendar notification that your waiting period was up today, you almost left work early to greet him at the apartment, but he beat you to it, texting you as you were gathering your things to stay put because he was going to be home late, and it wasn’t worth using the sick time. So you sat down and got absolutely no work done for the next few hours as drool pooled in your mouth thinking about the terrible things you were going to do to him when you got home.
He beats you to it, though, because as you finally get home and slip your shoes off at the door, your boyfriend sidles up behind you and covers your eyes with his large, masculine hands. You hum in enjoyment, leaning back against his chest to feel his body against yours. It’s so warm, and he hulks over and around you, encapsulating your body in his wide stance. He smells of syrupy vanilla and smoky bourbon and shampoo in his long black hair wisping over his shoulders, over your shoulders, tickling your nose as he leans in close to your neck and breaths in deep.
“Hello, my love,” He murmurs, a smile on his lips pressed against the soft skin of your neck, and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation because 6 weeks is the longest amount of time, you think. It must be because it feels like an eternity since you last had him thrusting roughly into you, and the thought alone makes your knees weak.
“Hello,” You purr back, attempting to turn to him to make eye contact, but he follows your movements, keeping his hands covering your vision the whole time, “Something specific you’re hiding from me?”
“Just a surprise,” His voice is already slick with want, deep and rumbling and warm just like the heat radiating from his body.
“I love surprises.”
“I know,” He whispers before slowly starting to lead you into the bedroom you two share. Your steps are slow and shuffling as you try to avoid the corners of furniture that frequently like to bruise your shins, but finally, he sits you down on the bed. He blocks your view, towering above you, and he shimmies his tie off from around his neck. The silky, thin fabric shines in the lamplight as he reaches around you and binds your wrists together. You smile up at him; this territory is familiar, and after this long, anything this kinky is going to finish you in mere minutes.
“This is my kind of evening,” You whisper, starting to lean back, but he grabs you by the top of your head and sits you back upright. He is strong, he is stern, not forceful but commanding.
“You stay here. Sitting like this.” It’s an order, not an ask, so you sit up a little straighter and lick your lips. He finally moves out of your way, and sitting in front of the bed is a single chair. You can’t help but scrunch your face in confusion.
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see,” He teases, slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt with one of his hands and grinning at the torture he’s putting you through. You whine a little in desperation and frustration, but when the shirt falls from his shoulders and he flexes just for you, turning at the waist briefly to show off his back, you fall silent in awe. He chuckles and unbuttons his pants and lets them slip to the floor.
Geto is not wearing any underwear underneath.
His cock stands at attention before you, and you gasp, slurping up the drool dripping from your lips, locking eyes with the shiny new appliance adorning the tip of his impressive length.
The look of this piercing against his tan skin is not, on paper, surprising to you. He has other piercings - his earlobes have been done since high school, he said, and he had a lip piercing when you first met him, and he was bragging about how he had gotten his nipples done on your first date. These embellishments to his already perfect skin made him even more irresistible.
This piercing, however, makes a record scratch in your brain. It is beautiful, hugging the tip of his cock like your tongue does when it’s in your mouth, and it makes you want to rub your fingers against it, rub your tongue against it, feel it pressed against your most sensitive bits because he promised he’d do that when he told you he was going to be getting his Prince Albert done and needed a 6 week recovery window without temptation.
He smiles when he sees your eyes locked on his prize. “You like it?”
“I want it,” You whine out, shifting your weight on the bed as the heat starts to build between your legs. What is he doing? Why hasn’t he ripped your skirt, pushed it up to your waist, and slammed right into you?
“Ah, ah,” Geto teases, and finally you peel your eyes up to his, and they are looking awfully mischievous right now. “You are going to watch.”
“Watch?” You ask in disbelief. He wants you to just watch? Has he even seen himself? Does he know how hard that is?
“Watch,” He commands again, letting the words drip like hot honey off his tongue as he sits in the chair, legs spread facing you, his length already hard and dripping and bouncing off his toned abs. Your eyes are glued to his cock, and his eyes are glued to the absolutely crazed look on your face as his hand comes up to grip himself. His thighs tense at just that touch, and a shiver rips through him. “It’s been a while for me too, darling.”
He brings his hand slowly up his length, and he lets his head drop back, and you finally take in all of his body before you. His jaw is tense, and as he gulps down a breath of air, you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and it takes everything in your power to not sink your teeth into his neck. His chest is flushed red, and his arms and shoulder keep tensing as he slowly fists himself. His thighs - his beautiful, thick thighs - stretch out wider, and you have full view as his fingers travel up and down his length, a slick noise from the movements making your body ache for him.
He lets his thumb brush against the piercing, and the feeling sends a shock through him, his neck tensing.
“Does it feel good, baby?” You coo, watching him for a reaction, and he groans, rolling out his neck and brushing against it again.
“So, so good.”
“Am I going to get to watch you cum?” You ask, your voice dark and daring, and he pushes his hips up into his hands with another groan
“You’re supposed to be watching not talking.”
You grin, knowing you’re getting him all worked up. “I just want to taste it, baby. I just want to taste it so bad.” He lets out a softer moan at your words, and his hand speeds up, rubbing over his tip and all the way down his length, and his other hand is gripping the seat of the chair. “Please won’t you let me taste you?”
“You’ll get what you want soon,” He breathes out, lolling his head back up to look at you through his eyelashes. A blush has covered his face as well, his hair sticking to a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his eyes are glued to yours. You bite your lip and nod softly.
“I need it. I need you to fill me up, Suguru. Please, please come fuck me,” You beg, and you watch his pupils dilate and shrink. His grip tightens, and you see the veins throb in his cock in his hand as he drips all over his own fingers.
“Do you really need me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, I need you. Ruin me, I need you to ruin my body,” You coax, sitting up on your knees, your eyes flitting back down to his length as he pulses, throbs, twitches in his hand. The tip has become a beautiful violet color, sticky and wet with his mess, and his own eyes flutter close as his breathing stutters. “I want all of it, baby.”
Suddenly, he stands, kicking the chair out from underneath him, and he’s beside you in seconds. He still fists his cock with one hand, but with the other, he pushes you down on your back and slides you to just the right angle under him on the side of the bed. Placing one foot on the bed and the other firmly on the floor, he leans his head back, pushes his hips forward, and lets himself cum.
It douses your body, clinging to your neck and collarbone, the thin fabric of your shirt, staining your skirt, dripping onto the sheets from where it hit your arm, it’s in your hair, and somehow, none of it landed on your tongue, sticking out enticingly, and you are just a little furious.
The anger melts away seconds later when he’s pushing your skirt up to your waist, pulling your panties off in a singular swift movement, pulling your shirt up over your face, pushing your legs wide apart, and burying his cock to the hilt in you with no resistance. You call out, arching your back at the sudden feeling of fullness, but his softening cock hardens right back up inside you, and you can suddenly feel his new piercing pressing against your G spot like its a doorbell, and your tongue goes stupid. You can’t even think it all feels so good.
“Is that what you wanted?” He groans in your ear, enveloping your body with his, and he thrusts once experimentally, and the cry that rips from your throat at how nice it feels after so long would be embarrassing if your legs weren’t already shaking with pleasure. You’re lost in the foggy haze of arousal, unable to say anything to Suguru, simply panting into his mouth as his lips find yours, sucking on your tongue as he starts to pound into you.
“I….need….you…” You moan out of your mouth between hiccups as his hips ram into yours, and your brain turns to mushy white noise each time his tip hits deep into you, spasming all of your muscles into what might be the best orgasm you will ever have.
“You have me, darling, you have me,” He whispers comfortingly into your ear. You arch your back, your jaw wretched and frozen open as you try to pull in air. With an uncontrollable need to get him to fuck you deeper, harder, rougher, more more more, you wrap your legs around his waist and push him into you, and it makes him chuckle so deep in your ear that it vibrates your spine and you have to grip the sheets with your still bound hands to keep yourself tethered to the moment.
“More, please, more,” You moan, desperate, and he obliges, pulling your legs up so your knees are to your shoulders, and this new angle splits you open. You have never felt this full before, and at this point, you’re past an orgasm. Your brain is melting out your ears as your pussy throbs around him, and it pushes him on, slamming into you harder and faster, and your bound hands can finally claw at his thighs under you, leaving red angry marks as you try to pull him even closer
“I’m going to cum again,” He grunts, gripping your hips even harder, and you nod, bobbling your head dumbly at his words
“Inside me, please, please.”
That’s all it takes for him to lose it, and you feel him sputter inside you, pouring himself into you, warming you from the inside, melting you, and makes your toes curl. His face is scrunched in pleasure, and his fingers are gripping you so hard that they’ll leave bruises, but it doesn’t matter because the look on his face leaves you needing even more.
“Again, please, more,” You beg, and it breaks his concentration on the pleasure pulsing through his veins.
“I don’t know if I can go again-” He starts, leaning back, but you push up onto your knees and interrupt him.
“I am going to milk you dry, Suguru,” You declare, determined, as you push him back onto the bed, his head lolling off the end.
“Wait, love, hold-” But you cut him off as you settle in his lap, taking his again softening length and settling it between your slick slit before grinding against him. His piercing is now brushing against your neglected clit, and it feels like your body is on fire with the lightning electricity dancing across your skin at every touch. You can feel his cum dripping out of you and onto him, and when he moans, he looks back up at you with pain and pleasure covering his face, his teeth biting into his bottom lip so hard that it might draw blood. “It’s too much,” He whispers, but you can’t stop yourself.
“I need to fuck you again, Suguru, please, I need more.” You feel your begging work as he lengthens, hardens, grows in your wetness, and you sit up on your knees, and when you guide him into you, Suguru’s hands shoot up to your waist with a cry.
“Gentle, please.”
“Okay, baby, yes, gentle,” You nod, you agree, you babble, but your hips say otherwise as you bounce up and down on his length, speeding up when you hear him whimper and moan and whine beneath you because it is simply too much for both of you. His legs tremble, and you settle into his lap again, grinding against him so you can rub your clit against his pelvic bone and feel him kiss your cervix and you’re wild with how badly you want to cum. “Use your hands, please, please, please-”
And he obliges, taking the thumb of his free hand to press against your clit, and you clench around him in response, and when you see the tears start to bubble in his eyes, it just urges you forward, grinding against him at as punishing a speed as your hips could manage. Your walls are spasming with pleasure, and it ripples up his length, and you can feel his heartbeat inside you. Your pants melt to moans, loud loud moans of his name and curses and pleading for him to make you cum. His cheeks are bright red, so pretty, and his hair is sticking to his wet skin all over his body, and his breathing is harsh as you push him closer and closer to an edge.
“I can’t cum anymore,” He groans, and the bite of his nails in the flesh of your hip is delectable.
“I can,” You let out a soft giggle, and his ab muscles contract at the sound. “I haven’t even once!”
“My love,” He’s nearly begging now, and you can hear the wobble of overwhelmed tears in his voice, but it makes you wetter, faster, slicker, needier.
“I want you shooting blanks at the end of this,” You purr, and as you arch your back and crane your neck to stare at the ceiling, you reach back with your bound hands and palm at his flesh, dragging your fingers up his inner thighs, near the base of his length, gripping at his balls. His knees stutter, his breathing stops, and you feel a weak release deep inside you again.
However, you still haven’t cum, and as he whimpers below you, all you want is more.
You still on his lap and push out your bottom lip in a pout. “Suguru, more, please more.”
He brings his hand up to your mouth, cutting off your words, and he catches his breath, sniffling and sucking back tears. His chest bounces with his sporadic breath, and when he finally picks his head up, he looks barely there, lost in a fog of sex and pleasure behind his eyes. His arm is weak, shaky, and his legs vibrate underneath you.
“Just give me a moment,” He whispers before slowly slipping three of his fingers into your mouth. You take it greedily, licking at his skin, swallowing him down as far as he’ll go, sucking frantically needing more. He smiles up at you, so soft it slows your heart just a tad, before he shifts underneath you, picks you up, and places you on your back on the bed. Removing his fingers, he slides down your body, spreading your legs and resting his head on your inner thigh to stare at your messy, sloppy core. “Let me clean you up a little.”
You nod, knowing exactly what he means, needing exactly what he means, and when his tongue slowly drags up your skin to your slit for the first time, you writhe into the pillows, gripping the sheets as a new flooding warmth of pleasure courses through you.
Suguru’s cock was great, but his tongue did things no one could dream of. Absolutely magical, mind-boggling things, and as he licked the cum dripping out of your opening, it shot the pleasure you were looking for directly into your brain. He is slow and deliberate with his movements, sticking to cleaning you, making sure to lick every inch of skin he can reach. He presses soft kisses to the sensitive parts of you, and you can’t help but pant like a dog in response, spreading your legs even wider for him to reach.
His tongue swirls inside you, dipping deep, and you grind your hips softly against his face. When you look down your nose to sneak a peek of the action, you match his eyes as he watches your every reaction, and it absolutely ruins you even more to know he’s getting off on pleasuring you. You grip your hands into the sheets behind you, humping harder against his face, and he lets you use him to chase your high.
“Suguru,” You whine out, carrying out the vowel into a high-pitch squeal.
He takes this as a sign you’re close, and it’s when he replaces his tongue with two fingers deep and fast inside you and sucks your clit between his lips that you finally lose it. You feel the waves of orgasm finally overtake your brain, and it rushes out of you from between your legs and all over Geto’s face. Your back arches almost painfully into the feeling, and you press your face into the pillow next to you to drown out the loud cries involuntarily escaping your throat
“That’s it, good girl, just like that,” He moans against you, continuing to lap up the wetness spilling from you, and your body convulses with the feeling until your brain is mushy and content.
Unfortunately for you, Geto wants his payback.
Just as you settle into the feeling of finally, finally being relieved of the throbbing need that had been pestering you for 6 straight weeks, you look down at him between your legs and see him gently stroking himself again.
“You taste so good, my love,” He murmurs, and suddenly, you’ve been flipped on your stomach, and he’s positioning you on your knees and spreading your legs wide to fit his overwhelming presence.
“Again already?” You ask, wiggling your hips enticingly, and he slaps your ass in response.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asked, and you can feel his length prodding against your sensitive hole.
“Aren’t you a little shit?” You mock back, but you take your hands, still stuck behind your back, and spread you ass cheeks apart for easy access. “I’m all yours, baby.”
And he takes that as permission, pushing deep into you again, and it hurts so good that your toes curl immediately and you see stars in your vision as he bottoms out, draping his body over you and fucking into you with relentless speed. You squeak every time he hits deep inside, your mouth stuck open like a doll.
“I…thought…you…were…tired…” You manage between thrusts, and he rumbles laughter into your ear that shakes you straight down to your cunt.
“And then I saw how hot you are. God, you’re fucking irresistible,” He presses open mouth kisses against you back, his lips stinging your back with greed. It’s when he digs his teeth into your back that you can finally feel the gears in your brain turn, and you yelp a little at the pain. You can feel the piercing rubbing against your walls, making your stomach flutter and your toes curl as it pokes and prods.
“I-I like it,” You mumble into the sheets, and when Suguru lightly hums for clarification, you groan it louder. “I like the piercing!”
He buries himself deep in you and kisses the soft spot below your ear.
“Good, that was the point.” Another hard thrust. “Touch yourself, darling.”
He barely even had to ask. Your fingers find the bud between your legs, and soon, you’re frantically chasing another orgasm as his hips rocket against yours. Your walls throb in time to his heartbeat in his cock, and if you thought about it for a while, you’d probably think it was romantic, but right now thinking is hard, and it’s probably for the better that the only thing in your brain is just Suguru’s name like a chant to the Gods.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, you feel so good all used like this,” He moans, massaging the flesh of your thighs with his thick fingers, and you can feel the blood rushing to the irritated skin, your nerves sensitive from his manipulation. You press harder against your clit, and your toes curl with need, a wet moan slipping from your lips.
“So big, Suguru, so big,” You mumble, clenching around him to punctuate your thought, and he stutters at the feeling. You turn to see his eyes roll to the back of his head as he gives you a few more thrusts before falling atop you, kissing you, licking at your lips, biting your tongue. His cock spasms inside you, barely leaking the little he has left to give.
The feeling deep inside is victorious, and it helps push you over the edge to your own final orgasm. It has you screaming out, your whole body vibrating with pleasure that turns your vision white before collapsing from your knees. Geto falls atop you as well, careful not the crush you but fully enveloping your much smaller body. Curling up against him, you moan, almost purring, in pleasure, and he welcomes you to him by wrapping his arms around you.
“That was wonderful,” You whisper, stretching your neck to kiss his nose as he finally reaches around to untie your hands. With a brief rub at your wrists, you shift and turn, wrapping your own arms around his neck. You are as close to him as you physically can be, and sometimes even that doesn’t feel like enough.
“It was a lot, that’s for sure.”
“That’s what happens when you make me wait.”
“It was six weeks!” He scoffs a laugh, disbelieving but still playfully smirking. You laugh too, letting a warmth cover your face.
“I genuinely think six weeks is the longest we’ve ever waited. Honestly, give me a half hour, and we can go again.”
He groans, crossing his legs just at the thought of the feeling. “I’m going to need a few days.”
“A few days?!” Your mouth drops open, and he laughs again at your reaction.
“If I promise to go down on you again tonight, do you think you can make it?”
You purse your lips in fake consideration before giving him an over-exaggeratedly sad nod. “I guess, if you hate me, that’ll do…”
“You’re absolutely ridiculous!” He grabs a pillow and gently bats the top of your head with it.
“All I’m saying is don’t ever make me wait that long again,” You wink, and he kisses your forehead softly, pulling you closer.
“Was it worth it?” He whispers, pressing his hips towards you, and you nod wildly.
“You tell me,” You coax, and you reach down, gripping his cock suddenly in your hand, rubbing your thumb along the cool metal of his piercing. He shivers, pulling away quickly.
“Watch it!”
“Worth it, but I never want you to do it again.” You sigh in relief, wiggling from his grasp to lie on your back on the bed. You spread your legs wide, showing a new slick wetness off to him before shooting a glance over at him, your eyebrow high on your face. “Ready to go now?”
#veroniquesboutique#fanfiction#cw sex mention#cw smut#x reader#x you#smut#fem reader#female reader#jjk anime#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jujutsu geto#jujustu kaisen#jjk suguru#geto suguru#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#geto#jjk geto#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#suguru x reader#suguru x you#suguru x y/n
209 notes
·
View notes
Text
→ A True Victory.
gif credit
pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.
rating: explicit.
warning: polygamy, established relationship, breeding kink, creampie, light sub/dom dynamics...
word count: 2.4k
summary: the newly-crowned king of the narrow sea returns to court victorious, but his greater triumph is crowning you with the dragon sigil.
PART II: A DRAGON'S GLORY.
PART III: A LIONESS'S HOME.
masterlist | ao3
YOU LIKE HIS NEW HAIRSTYLE, in fact, the prince never ceases to enchant you by his sharp looks, and the ridiculous amount of shameless sighs and lingering eyes on him confirm that you're not the only one who's quite taken by the prince. However, any sign of infatuation on your side is masterfully hidden under a cold façade. You sip from your wine and keep on exchanging the silly topic you're having with the other courtier ladies. Untill another, more of importance, is brought up.
“I heard that Lord Corlys is seeking an alliance with one of the free cities.” Lady Redwyne says.
“To the son of the Sealord of Braavos, or so I've heard.” Lady Strong remarks, before her lips press delicately on the rim of her goblet.
Joselyn Redwyne's puckered lips tighten in distaste, “Oh, that is awful to hear,” Her eyes drift momentarily to the King who's laughing along his brother on something the Queen has said, “The King mustn't stand by and do nothing about it. The retreat of the Velaryons' fleet will weaken the royal navy, thus, will put the King's reign in danger.”
“I do not think so,” Lady Strong answers, “Now the Prince is back at court victorious, and the two royal brothers made peace with eachother. The realm is stronger than ever. Isn't that right, my lady?” She turns her head towards you, a taunting grin visiting her lips.
A cold smile slips into yours, “The house of the dragon is at the height of its strength, Lady Strong, one more fleet or less cannot prove that his Grace's grasp on the realm has faltered.”
“Even when your prince husband fled to Dragonstone with two thousands men of the City Watch?” Lady Redwyne says.
Your grip tightens around the stem of your goblet. That again. They must always rub it in your face; your husband's abandonment of you, they're impudent enough to do so; it gives them a large amount of self-satisfactory to make a lioness of the rock who's wed to a fierce and royal dragon cornered, humiliated even. You smile at her, nevertheless; you'd never rise to the bait. Instead, and like the dutiful lady you are, who harbours great love for her husband, you choose to defend him.
“My prince husband had his personal reasons to pass some time alone on Dragonstone away from court.” Your gaze shifts to the prince, and fuck, he's looking at you, smirking. Your eyes lock for a moment before they flit back to the old lady. “And as Lady Strong just said, the Prince is now home, triumphant with the Triarchy destroyed. The realm owes him a lot.”
“Dear me, such a shame he did not want his wife's company in his time of solitude there.” The old lady murmurs.
The anger that has been huddling within your chest since the Prince's return finally snaps, and you decide to let it out on the old hag that chose not to keep her mouth shut. The moment your lips crack open, ready to shoot a snarky remark at her, you feel a very familiar warmth surronds you from behind.
“A shame indeed,” You hear the usual drawl in your husband's voice, “But such cold and grotesque island as Dragonstone is no suitable place for my delicate lady wife. Do you not agree, my ladies?”
“Prince Daemon.” Your company of nattering ladies all dipped in short courtesy for him.
You allow yourself to grin, just slightly, before you press your lips purse into thin line.
Your husband's hands perch gently on your shoulders, his thumbs squeezing a bit, and you shiver under his touch. His rough-padded fingers trail up to your neck, tilting your head aside so he can look at your eyes. You have the famous green eyes of the Lannisters, and they're burning no less than the wild fire. “Her Grace, Queen Alicent, has just mentioned to me the new additions to the gallery. Would you care to tour me around, my lady?” His thumb traces your cheek in a circular pattern. His public show of affection has been one of the perks you take huge delight in once. How he'd kiss you, caress you in front of the court. Abashedly, declaring his love and devotion to you. You took sick pleasure in making the ladies at court jealous and envious of your position. The woman who has it all. That what some would call you, and how would they not. You're the younger sister of the Lannister lord twins; a high-born lady with generous wealth, who happened to catch the interest of the King's younger brother, he took it so far that he named you the Queen of Love and Beauty after he's won an attorney, and decorated your head with a crown. Offending both his and his wife's houses. But he doesn't care. And perhaps that's the most alluring trait that made you fall in love with the handsome prince; he's taken you as a second wife, in the tradition of his house. He didn't care about the havoc he faced for that, and your family didn't actually mind as it comes back at them with the advantage of having you marrying a royalty.
A dragon marrying a lioness, it made quite the shake in the realm. And everyone acquiesced to the viciousness of your love.
Daemon could've sworn that the fire in your eyes is more lethal than Caraxes', and the Rogue Prince is fond of playing with yours. You smile cordially at your husband, “Of course, my love.” Then you turn to your companions, “If you will excuse us, Your Ladyships.” You remove his arms from around you, but he offers you his elbow, and you have no choice but to accept it.
You two walk into the palace in silence. Your feet clanging against the corridors floor, your hand still latches onto his arm. Once in the gallery, Daemon orders the servants and guards out. When he makes sure that you two are alone, he takes the opportunity and leans into your neck, pressing light kisses on your anointed skin.
“How I have missed you.” He whispers desperately as he inhales the sweet scent of the Lysene oils he's used to gift you. You almost give in. Every resolve you solidly built to fortify yourself against him is falling apart at a mere touch of his. You truly love him, and he truly owns you, body and heart. You're his precious prize, therefore, he cannot treat you as such, and you'll make sure that he'd pay for hurting you. He's your husband, your lord, your prince, your beloved. But you're a lioness of the Rock, who holds great pride, and your dragon wounded it deeply.
You shake away from his touch, “Oh have you?” Turning your head to face him, your feigned smile finally drops. “Well, I have not.”
You step forwards, making sure his body warmth is fairly away from you.
He strides towards you, “(Y/N), darling...” His steps come to a haul when you spin around to stop him.
“You cannot go and abandon me in an overnight, and come back after four years like nothing happened, Daemon!”
The latter stills on his spot, looking at you blankly, “We were at war, love, what did you expect from me?”
“You did not fly to Dragonstone because you were at war, Daemon.” You hiss at his face through gritted teeth.
“I was at one with my brother.” He replies frankly.
“And you deemed that leaving me, your fucking lawful wife, here suffering from courtiers looking at me sideways, and whispering the foulest things behind my back, to the point they don't have any sliver of courtesy and say it in my face, would be a great notion? How smart of you, husband.”
A small yelp escapes your throat as Daemon's hand clasps on your forearm and drags you behind him, splaying you open at one of gallery's walls. His face is few inches away from you, his hot breath slamming your soft skin, searing like the one his dragon produces. Your own grows ragged. His violet eyes pouring into yours. Glowing amethysts clashing with scalding emeralds.
“I did not take you with me, because if I did, you going with me into exile would have condemned the entirety of your house as well.” His tone is calm. However, the fires within his eyes tell you otherwise. “And who ever dared to hurt you in my absence, I shall gouge their tongues myself.”
A shudder sweeps over your body, you know your dragon is true to his words. However, that will come later. “But I'm your wife, Daemon.” You murmur breathlessly, “The one you fought the world for, or do you not remember?”
Your husband grins wickedly, “Of course I remember.” He tugs a strand of your golden hair behind your ear, “Do you think I shared interests with Lord Corlys only for the sheer lust for victory and to taunt my kingly brother?”
“Wouldn't put it past you.” You say in whisper, “You did it to win your post in your brother's court back.”
Daemon chuckles, “Can't deny I did.” His slender fingers twirl a tress of your hair, “Nevertheless, it came clear to me, after four years in exile, three of them at war, that there is no victory can compete with the one I've achieved of having you.”
A crimson hue smudges your face, and your prince pops your nose playfully. “Ah, here she is, my good kitten.”
Kitten, is the pet name he's given you when you show hints of your more submissive side, that only him gets to see it. The wild lioness that everyone is intimated by turns into putty in the prince's hand. Her resonant roars turn into delicious mewls when the dragon coaxes the worst out of her.
His hand is warm against your cheek when he cups your pretty face. He roams your body up and down with his eyes. You're wearing a sleeveless dress, made of green velvet. The fabric was a present from him. The colour brings out the green of your eyes, and the golden embroidery patterns accentuate the gold of your mane. You lean into his touch, and his hand grazes up to your mane, grabbing it a tad to make more available skin for him to feast on.
You whimper weakly, your body is already raging with need; four years deprived of this... of him. You never imagined you'd have to go celibate after you married Daemon, he always had you in his bed, fucking you almost every night, teaching you the arts of love and carnality in his sheets, the ways of hedonism you never thought of before. He pleased you and taught you how to please him. And you did so eagerly.
His hands touch your bare arms, pressing your hands and bringing them up to his lips, kissing each knuckle and fingertip of yours. You giggle and he grins. Daemon dips again and trails a line of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, jaw, and chin. He decides to look at your eyes before he presses his lips against yours. Your breathing is heaving, your eye are half-lidded, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. Hungry, lustful, and burning. Daemon grasps your shoulders as his lips crushing against yours, growling desperately in your mouth. Then his hands drop to your skirts, you help him lifting them up, and shuffling your undergarments down.
“Gods,” He hisses as he slips a finger inside of you. “You're as tight as you were at our wedding night.”
“Daemon, please...” You moan when you feel his thumb brushing your clit. “Please...”
“How cruel of me,” He remarks, a hint of mockery tinting his voice, “Leaving my wife unfulfilled and unsatisfied.”
You slap his chest playfully, “For four years you fucking twat.”
He grips on your hair again, with a bit more force this time, “That's no way to talk to your prince, my lady.” He kisses your lips again.
You laugh between the kisses, “And that was no way to treat your lady wife, my prince.” He groans in irritation, “Your lioness became hopeless to the point of considering returning to her original den, Casterly Rock.”
Daemon freezes, “What?”
“See, husband?” You sassed, “If you had been a little more late, you wouldn't have found me here.”
He grumbles, “Then I would have mounted my dragon and come to you, darling, and nothing could've stopped me from taking you again like I did first time.” He turns you around, your breasts pressing against the cold wall.
“Oh, shall I test the waters, my prince?” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers hit that delicious spot of you. He hasn't forgotten.
“Do not tempt the dragon, darling,” He snarls next to your ear, “You'll only get burned.”
“I've taken much more harder things, Daemon.” Your chuckle is interjected by moans.
“You're taking much more today.”
He continues to touch you, to ease your skin, with his lips and hands. His fingers coax your insides untill you're begging for his cock. He knows exactly where to touch you, earning your submission once again.
He clasps your hands, your fingers interlocking, as he thrusts deeply into you. All wet and warm for him. You gasp, your body craving for more. And Daemon knows, from the way your walls are sucking him up greedily and eagerly. His tip kissing your cervix each time he snaps his hips. You spin around and cling to him in desperation; your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.
“Ah... ah... Daemon...” Your head snaps backwards, and his lips are on your neck. “Give it to me please, husband, please!”
Daemon doesn't stop untill he gives you both, his and your high. And he fucks his seeds through your pleasure. In hope of a child will be born nine moons from now. You quiver, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands clawing at his back, and you bury your face into his neck. You don't wish him to see you crying. Daemon does indeed relish in watching you submit to him, but he never is fond of weaklings.
But Daemon senses the shake of your chest and sees the shinning beads on your face.
“What is it darling?” He tugs your hair away from your forehead, cradling your face in both hands, “Speak to me, love...”
“Never leave again.” Your words came out hushed, fragile.
“I never will.”
#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#prince daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen headcanon#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x you#Daemon Targaryen x y/n#house of the dragon#game of thrones#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fic#Daemon Targaryen fluff#daemon targaryen fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲
Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC
Warnings: Swearing, character death
1.02
You struggle to breathe normally from crying so much, so you clasp your hand over your mouth to try and help regain control. All the repressed emotions that had been building for years came bubbling out when you and your father got into a heated argument. He was upset that Rhaenyra had suddenly fled to Dragonstone and blamed it on you for giving your older sister the silent treatment, insisting you go fly to her immediately and apologize.
It caused deep pain in your chest, knowing he didn’t care about your side of things. He didn’t even care to ask.
“The decision has been made; you will go to Dragonstone and apologize,” your father says, waving you off dismissively before returning his attention to his sculpture of Old Valyria. “I think it might be good for you to go and stay on Dragonstone for some time.”
“Why? As a punishment?”
“No, my child, it’s so you and Rhaenyra can be there for each other.”
“I don’t want to leave the house; it’s my home.”
“It wouldn’t be forever.”
Red blotches appear across your neck and chest as your body shakes with rage. It felt as if you were being banished for a crime you didn’t commit, and something inside you snapped. “It’s not my fault; none of it is. Not Rhaenyra was leaving, and neither was my mother or brother dying.”
“What?” Your father still makes his movements but keeps his back to you. “Ivory, what did you just say?”
“You were so obsessed with having a son that you forced my mother to get pregnant again and again until she finally died giving birth, and you have spent every day since resenting me for it.”
“That’s simply not true.”
Your eyes gloss over. “You wanted a son, and Baelon died. Leaving you with me.”
“I suggest you go to your chambers and rest before you leave.”
“I’m not going to Dragonstone!” Your father finally turns back around to face you, and the expression on his face is one of disinterest, which angers you further. You had spent years craving his and Rhaenyra’s approval, and now you felt nothing but a fool, a silly girl who thought she needed to remain quiet to keep everyone else happy, but in the heat of the moment, you no longer felt that way. “You remarried Alicent so you could have an heir, and she’s given you three sons and a daughter. Another four children that you don’t even acknowledge!”
Your father shoots you a glare; it was obvious you had struck a nerve. “Ivory, hold your tongue! Remember, I am not only your father; I am also your king.”
“The only child you love is Rhaenyra, and we all know it.”
Before he can say anything else, you turn to leave his bedchamber and come face-to-face with Alicent, who looked speechless. You closed your eyes and waited for her to scold you, but she never does; instead, she holds your hand.
Seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, your father stands. “Alicent, what is wrong?”
“I’m afraid I have some dreadful news for your grace,” she says. “It’s regarding Ser Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong.”
—
You twiddle with the green and gold ribbons that go down the center of your pale gold dress. It was a beautiful gift from your stepmother, but you couldn’t wear it yet. You focus on the design of the fabric and how it reminds you of dragon scales; it was a good distraction from the last memory you have of your late husband plaguing your mind.
Smiling, you pull your riding gloves off with your teeth as you make your way out of the dragon pit, listening intently as Aegon talked about his lessons in sword fighting. Your conversation comes to an abrupt halt when Ser Harwin appears at the doorway.
He bows his head, but before he has a chance to say anything, Aegon sharply asks, “What do you want?”
“I simply wish to speak to my wife, my prince.”
Aegon turns to you to gauge what your intentions are. Once you nod your head, silently telling him it was okay, he looks between you and Harwin, shooting a death stare at the knight. He says, “Fine, but she can’t stay long. We are expected to have tea with my mother, the queen, shortly.”
Harwin nods his head. “Of course, my prince, I won’t take much of the princess' time.”
When Aegon is out of earshot, Harwin faces you, and the amusement on his face is clear. “I’m glad that your brother is so protective of you.”
“What do you wish to speak to me about?”
He straightens his posture and says, “I am leaving tonight with my father to return to Harrenhal, and I just wanted to say goodbye as it may be some time before I return.”
Feeling your eyes become glossy, you stare at the ground and ask, “Have you said goodbye to Rhaenyra?”
“No, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”
Heaviness weighs down on your chest. You doubted he was being truthful; you fully expected him and Rhaenyra to say a tearful farewell, but your feelings of concern for the children were stronger than your anger towards them. You clear your throat. “I hope you speak to Jacaerys and Lucerys before you go; they deserve a proper goodbye.”
Harwin’s expression is hard to read as he leans forward, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “I truly am sorry.”
When you remain silent, Harwin bows his head slightly and goes to leave. A horrid feeling twists in your gut; you don’t quit explaining it, but you feel as if it’s a final goodbye. You step forward and ask, “When do you intend to return?”
He gives you a soft smile and says, “Whenever you ask me to, princess.”
You jump when approaching footsteps pull you from your thoughts. You spin around, hand clapped to your chest, the feeling of your heart beating fast pressing against your palm. “Ser Criston, I had no idea you were behind me.”
“Forgive me for startling you, princess,” the knight says. “The queen has asked that I accompany you to the docks.”
Knowing that it was time to leave, you reached for the shawl, lying across your bed, and draped it across your shoulders before leaving your chambers. Many a lord and lady offered you their condolences as you made your way outside as the news of Harwin and his father, the kings hand burning to death made its way around court. In the back of your mind, you wondered how Jace and Luke were coping. No matter how much you hated Rhaenyra for hurting you, you could never hate your nephews.
—
Noticing you rolling your eyes at his comments, Aegon scoffs, “I’m just saying, I hate the color black.”
Not only were you dressed appropriately to mourn Harwin, you were all wearing black as you made your way to Driftmark for the funeral of your uncle's late wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, who had died during childbirth.
“You hate most things.”
Aegon pouts, “I do not.”
You tap your finger along a thick rope that was attached to the side of the boat, trying to think of something smart to say back, but your mind draws blank. “What’s something you love, then?”
“I enjoy drinking and beautiful women.”
Smiling, you shake your head, turning to face the choppy waves. “You’re ridiculous.”
Aegon’s nose crinkles as irritation spreads across his features. He looks up at the sky, watching as your dragons fly side by side. “Sunfyre.”
You smile; the dragon keepers had already spoken about how strong the bond between Sunfyre and Aegon was, especially since the golden dragon never hatched in the crib and they had only bonded a few years prior. “There is no denying that, lēkia.”
You stand together in a comfortable silence, watching as the scenery around you changes, until your destination comes into view and your heart drops. The thought of seeing Rhaenyra again so soon after Harwin’s death made you feel sick.
Aegon stretches his arms out and yawns, but his attention changes to something behind you. He clears his throat and says, “Father.”
You turn to see your father standing on the other side of you with a smile on his face, which was surprising since this was the first time you had spoken following the argument in his bedchamber. “Have you thought anymore about what we discussed?”
Before you can answer, Ghost, the beautiful white dragon you're bonded with, swoops down low and lets out a loud screeching noise, startling everyone on the boat. “No, your grace, I haven’t.”
—
As the funeral ends and the wake for Lady Laena begins, Aegon rudely interrupts the conversation you’re having with the ladies from the house, Darklyn and Baratheon. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you behind him, further away from the crowd and behind some large rocks, so you're out of sight. “What are you doing?” You frown. “That was incredibly ill-mannered; the queen will be furious.”
“What does Father want you to think about?”
You toyed with loose threads on the sleeve of your dress; you felt too embarrassed to tell him the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”
Aegon scoffs, “Fine; perhaps I’ll go ask him myself.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you are obviously fucking upset!” Aegon stumbles backwards into one of the rocks. He had been drinking since you got off the boat; it was actually astonishing that he wasn’t sliding his words by now. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s humiliating, that’s why.” A sinking realization hits you suddenly, and tears glisten in your eyes. “Father no longer wants me around; he wants to ship me off to Dragonstone.”
“I will speak to my mother tonight; you cannot go and live with her; to even suggest it is an insult,” he says, shaking his head. “The king is neither blind nor stupid; he’s in denial and would rather believe my mother is a fool over Rhaenyra being a whore.”
“Aegon!”
“What she is! She slept with your husband and had his bastard children.”
“I know.” The black thread you’ve been pulling on finally snaps. “But—”
You freeze when you hear a snapping sound behind you. Aegon stares at you with his mouth slightly agape. Someone just heard everything he said.
Brother - Lēkia
#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#Aegon II Targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#Aegon II Targaryen/you#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen#ghosts in the sky#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen x oc#Aegon Targaryen x fem oc#Aegon Targaryen/oc#Aegon ii x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#Aegon ii Targaryen x fem oc
283 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scrambled Eggs P1
(3rd POV)
Charlie hummed to herself as she made her way towards her brother's room. 'That dummy probably fell asleep at his desk again.' she giggled to herself before knocking on (Y/N)'s door. She frowned softly; (Y/N) was usually a light sleeper, so that knock would've woke him up immediately.
Charlie opened the door to pop her head in, her eyes landing on her brother's bed, eyes widening at sight before biting her lip to stop herself from squealing too loudly.
In (Y/N)'s bed, laid a shirtless prince and Angel Dust curled in his arms. (Y/N) laid on his back, with Angel curled into his side, beak pressed against the side of the blond's neck, of of his upper arms holding under (Y/N)'s shoulder, the other draped across his chest. Both of the spider's lower arms were holding onto the prince's waist.
Their legs were covered by (Y/N)'s heavy blanket, but you can tell their legs were tangled. (Y/N)'s wings were wrapped protectively around them.
Charlie used her phone to take a photo, before quitly shutting the door.
Once the door was shut, Charlie immediately ran down towards the kitchen and tackled a drowsy Vaggie. "Vaggie! Look, look, look!" She squealed, showing off the stolen photo. "Woah... about time." she muttered, pressing a kiss to Charlie's cheek before turning back to her coffee.
"Maybe we'll let them sleep for a bit. And let's keep this between is, babe. You know how private your brother is." Vaggie smiled, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.
*Timeskip*
Charlie finished nailing the last nail to the banner. "That looks perfect!"she squealed, examining it. It read, 'Happy first week, Sir Pentious!'
"Ahh! I am so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel." She sang, making her way down the ladder.
"Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago." Vaggie pointed out, hands on her hip.
"Well, I haven't seen him try to pull any of that here." Charlie defended, just as the snake himself rolled over a cannon looking thing, his Egg Bois sitting on top.
"What the hell is that?" asked Vaggie.
"Oh, hello, purple female," Sir Pentious greeted, tiping his hat at the women. "It's my new invention, the 'SSSSkin Flayer 11,000.' I'm really looking forward to shooting the other residentsss." He grinned, rubbing his hand together.
"What? Why?" asked a baffled Charlie.
"Everyone is being too nice," answered the snake before rolling his eyes, "Obviously, it must be a lie. I can sssense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared! Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here." He perked up before slithering over to the delivery girls.
"Sign, please." Odette held a clipboard out, which the demon did happily before turning to the delivery. "Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase." she waved goodbye as she and her sister departed.
"Carmine? As in Carmella Carmine..You are buying parts from an overlord?" Vaggie growled.
"Uh, of course," Sir Pentious said in a 'duh' tone, "She's the top weapons dealer in Hell."
"Okay, well, that stops right now." Vaggie took the parts from him, turning to him as he protested. "Hey!"
"You absolutely cannot build weapons in this hotel. No one is trying to kill you. People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome." Vaggie raised an eyebrow as Pentious peeked over his cannon to look at the other members of the hotel.
Husk was behind the bar, drinking a bottle of his Cheap Booze, before peeking an eye open and sending a middle finger at the snake.
Angel was leaning against (Y/N)'s side, turning between scrolling through social media, and watching the prince sketch in his sketchbook, when both males smirked at the snake and sent him their middle fingers again.
(Y/N) was still pissed about Pentious breaking into his office and attempting to send recordings to the TV themed Overlord.
Angel just wanted to be an asshole.
Niffty was dusting the table, before turning slowly and smiling manically at the snake, giggling devilishly.
"Hmm, I have my doubts." hissed Pentious. "Well, it's true. You have to trust us." Vaggie rolled her eye.
"But I don't." retorted the snake demon.
"Well, why don't we focus on that for today's activities?" Charlie spoke up, hoping to lighten the tension.
"Not before we lay some ground rules." Vaggie interrupted, "No more building weapons, no more plotting against the other guests. And you need to get rid of those things." She pointed at the Egg Bois who were playing with Pentious' new weapon parts, and accidentally fired a laser at the ceiling.
"Oh, what did I just say? What did I just say?" grumbled the white haired woman, pointing at the hole.
"What? Not my little Egg Bois! They do my evil bidding for me!" He begged, hugging the little creatures close to him. "Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?" Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?" Pentious asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then no more eggs."
"All right, eggies. You've got to go." sobbed Pentious, "I...can't keep you anymore," "Okay boss!" They saluted him, walking away with Vaggie as he continued to protest them, "No, don't resist. This is how it has to be." He sobbed into his hands, Charlie awkwardly patting his shoulder.
*Upstairs*
Alastor hummed along to the light jazz music he was playing as he ate his....breakfast. "Alastor!" called Vaggie, startling the Radio Demon. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of breakfast." he ate another forkful.
"Pentious' eggs are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them." Vaggie watched through an narrow eye. "Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!" He walked closer to the Latina, who crossed her arms and glared. "Humanely!" she snapped.
"Hm. Well that's a lot less fun," grinned Alastor, eyes glowing red, revealing the X on his forehead, before he turned to normal and shrugged. "But I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today." He nodded his head to Vaggie who smiled briefly. "Great."
She caught sight of the 'breakfast', that Alastor was eating and grimaced. "That looks disgusting."
*Downstairs in the main lobby*
"Hi, guys! Thanks for coming," Charlie smiled at the demons sitting in front of her, "It's been brought to our attention that there maybe a litttttlllleeeee tension in the hotel."
Pentious hissed as he picked up Niffty to further examine her, the little cyclops not minding as he squeezed her, aiming his death ray at her.
"Tension that can be counterproductive to what we're trying to do here." Vaggie side eyed Pentious as he hissed in irritation.
"We think that this group could really benefit from...Trust exercises!" "Trust exercises!" Vaggie and Charlie cheered, Vaggie falling on her butt. "Ah, shit." she hissed.
"Vaggie, we rehearsed this." Charlie blinked at her girlfriend, helping her up. Vaggie smiled sheepishly, making Charlie smile at her goofiness. "We're doing trust exercises. "
The group looked her rather boredly, (Y/N) smiling at his sister encouragingly, sending her a thumbs up.
"So, what's the whole, uhhh, this?" Husk asked, gesturing to the stage behind the two women. "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps. It's bad enough when Prince here gets inspired, he tries to dress me up." grumbled the cat.
(Y/N) grinned from his spot next to Angel, "No, no I don't try, kitty, I do." He chuckled to himself, holding up his sketch book mockingly as the winged cat demon playfully rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face.
"You've been spending too much time with Legs over there." scoffed Husk.
Angel perked up, tossing his long legs on (Y/N)'s lap, gold tooth glinting in the light. "Oh I will put on a show, but it's cash up front, " He held his hand out for cash, before pointing at Pentious, "And I know that one, can't afford me."
"Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!" hissed the snake, crossing his arms.
"That's fine, because I'm VIP only, and only (Y/N) here gets the special treatment from me." Purred Angel, cupping the prince's face, leaning forward, eyelids low, a grin on his face. "Mia cara, non davanti a tutti. (My darling, not in front of everyone).." blushed (Y/N), a shaky smile on his face before he mushed Angel in his face before turning back to an amused Charlie.
"Mi les lexi re manka. (Don't you say a word, you brat.)" He hissed, she merely grinned, knowing her brother wouldn't hurt her, "Den eipa tipota. (I didn't say anything)"
Vaggie spoke up, "Right, well let's get started, Charlie?" Vaggie smiled, trying to move things along.
"Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one. I trust everyone, so maybe you know better about how to build it properly." Charlie smiled encoruagingly, as everyone came in a line, to see what Vaggie had planned.
"What? Uhh, I don't know if I'm qualified, uh--" "Oh, come one. It'll be easy, I'm sure you can handle this." Charlie said, complete faith in her beautiful girlfriend.
"Yeah, um..sure. I can handle this. No problem." She eyed the raised eyebrows and scowls from some of the men.
She shouted like a drill Sargent, "All right, so we are starting with trust falls. Each of you are going to share something vulnerable with the group about yourself and then fall backwards whole the rest of the group catches you! Got it? Who wants to go first?"
Charlie excitedly raised her hand. "Ooohh, ooohh, me me me me! Me! Me! Me!" she grabbed Vaggie's shoulder who looked amused. "All right. Get on up here."
"I love you guys. Like really, really love you." She said, tearfully, falling backwards into Vaggie's waiting arms. "That...felt...great!" she giggled, kicking her feet happily.
"Angel, why don't you go next?" she suggest, looking at him upside down.
"Fiiinneee." sighed the spider, as he sashayed up to the stage. "This time, everyone needs to catch him. Okay, unless you want me to hurt you." Vaggie held out her spear in warning.
Niffty, Husk and Pentious walked closer, (Y/N) moving Vaggie's spear from near him.
"Oh, somethin' about myself huh? How about this? I love to suck---" Angel grinned widely, making a certain gesture, "I swear to fuck if you say dicks!" Husk growled loudly, Angel smirking to himself.
"Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind out of the gutter." He winked, before falling back into (Y/N)'s waiting arms. "But you know, (Y/N)'s dick too!" Angel grinned, running a hand over the prince's belt buckle.
(Y/N) dropped him on his ass with a playful grin. "Whoops. "
Angel rubbed his butt ,and rolled his eyes playfully, before turning to Sir Pentious. "All right, new guy, you're up."
"I don't want to live without my minions. Nobody catch me." Sighed the snake tearfully before falling backwards, grunting when Charlie and Vaggie caught him. "Damn it." he groaned. "That's great, wow, you are slimey." Vaggie grimaced, shoving him away, wiping her hands off on her dress.
"(Y/N), you're up." Charlie urged her brother, who sighed dramatically, before climbing up to the stage.
"Umm..." (Y/N) placed a hand on his hip as he hummed, thinking. "Um, I can use the feathers off my wings as kunais for long distance attacks. And I have deadly accuracy. " He grinned, briefly showing his demon form.
He turned and fell into Angel's arms, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Come here often?" Angel purred, making (Y/N) huff and roll his eyes, a very faint red on his cheeks. "Put me down, idiota!" He snapped, mushing Angel's face again.
"Niffty, your turn." (Y/N) smiled at the little cyclops who giggled excitedly before rushing to the stage, eye wide with murderous glee.
"Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others." she admitted before jumping off, and face planting on the floor as everyone else took a few steps back.
The rest of the members eyed her clearly weirded out. "Yay! Pain!" Niffty got up to jump off again and again while Charlie and Vaggie snuck off to talk in private.
"I don't know if this is really working the way we hoped." Charlie whispered, before perking up, "Maybe we should--" "Honey, you have to trust me here. I got this, okay? I'll figure something out." Vaggie soothed Charlie's worried mind.
Both looked up as Angel suddenly loomed over them with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye, and pulled them into a huddle with his arms. "If you're in the market for some ideas, I got just the thing for some 'trust' buildin.' " He lowered his body to be eye level with Vaggie as she sighed, and eyed him. "What do you have in mind?"
*with Alastor*
The Radio Demon walked through the city as the Egg Bois followed him, chattering away. "Oh boy. What's the plan boss? I like your suit! What are the antlers for? Can I touch your staff thing? Are those your ears? Or is it your hair? I can't tell."
Alastor's right eye twitched in annoyance, as he debated if he should get rid of them humanely like Vaggie asked, or say fuck it.
"Hark, Alastor. How fare thee this day?" A green and black spider demon asked, approaching the Radio Demon who grinned excitedly seeing the figure.
"Who's that boss? Want me to rough him up for you?" asked the Egg Bois, ready to defend the deer.
"Follow in silence if you value your shell." hissed Alastor before turning to the demon in front of him. "Greetings, Zestial!" He greeted, as demons around them took notice of who was there, screaming in fear.
"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day." Zesital replied, narrowing his eyes at a demon who ran out of a bar, arguing with someone inside. "Oh shit!" They screamed, disappearing.
"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon." The two demons watched as another doused himself in lighter fluid before setting himself on fire and running away in fear.
"I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence." The two started walking, ignoring the multiple demons who ran in and hid in fear.
"Some hath soun wild tales of you falling to holy arms." hummed Zestial.
Alastor laughed, "Oh, I just took a well earned sabbatical. Nothing serious." Alastor looked around briefly before turning to the green and black spider. "Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes, haha!" He turned on a laugh track briefly.
Zestial chuckled lowly, "There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy." Alastor watched as he opened his cloak dramatically, through lazy eyes.
"Tell me, how does thou fall in such folly?"
"That is for me to know. But please, do guess. I'd love to know the theories." Alastor side eyed the spider as he continued to walk.
"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm." complimented the spider.
"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment." The deer smiled, before they reached their destination.
They both looked into a security camera; the camera glitching when Alastor grinned into it, before stepping onto the elevator.
The Egg Bois tried to follow but were stopped by the Radio Demon. "No, no. I havea very important task for you." He tapped his claws on his staff, "Stay here and guard the front until I return. " The Egg Bois saluted determinedly back.
"Oh, look!" cried one of the Egg Bois as the elavator lifted up, "Frank is up there!" he pointed to their friend who was banging on the glass with worry on his face. "We have names?" asked another who shrugged.
*Upstairs with the Radio Demon.*
Frank watched in awe, as many other demons came and joined Alastor and Zestial at the table. He stood behind Alastor, peeking over at a demoness. He waved happily, before the woman grinned, showing her sharp teeth. "Oh!" exclaimed the little egg.
Metallic clinking echoed in the room as a woman with her hair in a horn style, and ballerina shoes on her feet. "Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city." She was joined by the two young ladies who made the delivery to Sir Pentious earlier that day.
"Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule." She slammed her fist on the table. "We need to discuss what can be minimize the impact to our interest."
Hearing a soft rattling, the woman turned to see Zestial having a seat next to her, summoning a cup of tea.
"Zestial, so good to see you, my friend." "Enchanted as always, Carmilla."
Carmilla then noticed the Radio Demon. "Alastor?"
"Yes, I know I've been absent sometime. I'm sure you've been wondering." Alastor gestured theatrically.
"Not really. But welcome back in any case." replied Carmilla, shrugging her shoulders as Alastor's face tightened in annoyance.
She snapped her fingers, and Odette handed her a clipboard. "This year's extermination was brutal, far more even than years past." Her daughters sat in their seats, Odette pulling up a slideshow behind Carmilla.
"We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost. With the angelic legions, now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we--" a door slamming cut her off.
"Yes, I've got it handled, Vox." Velvette said loudly into her cell phone. "Are you doubting me?"" she asked. "Really? Me? That's what I thought." The pink haired demon cackled, leaning against her chair.
"Haha! Yes, I know. They're all a joke." She grinned, purposely making eye contact with Carmilla. "Thank you, Vee. See you soon. Kisses, darling." She sent kisses towards the phone before hanging up, and throwing herself into her chair.
"Nice of you to join us, Velvette." Carmilla said politely. "Will your...colleagues be joining?" She asked, disdain clear in her face.
"No. They have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag,who thinks she's tough shit." Carmilla narrowed her eyes at the language. "I'm here to represent." She then took a picture of the ballerina and add poop emojis around her.
"Charming," Carmilla rolled her eyes before turning back to the slide show. "So, as I was saying, we need to discuss--"
Velvette once again interrupted by raising her hand in the air. "Yes?" Carmilla asked, annoyed.
"On the subject of discussion..." Velvette threw an exorcist's head onto the table, getting a varying array of responses. "Oh shit!" "Oh, tasty!" Alastor exclaimed.
"Where did you get this?" asked the white haired woman, her eyes flashing red.
"We found it during extermination day." explained Velvette as she stood up. "If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed." She jumped on the table as she explained herself.
"We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan." Velvette was interrupted by Zestial slurping loudly on his tea...for a good few seconds.
"If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof...Thou art far more foolish than I be thought."
The fashionista scoffed, " "Meager proof? It's a dead fucking exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?" She mocked.
Zesital shrugged his shoulders. "We know not how this perished...Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?"
The other overlords muttered in agreement. Velvette noticed that Carmilla was suddenly silent, looking downcast.
She smiled sharply, "Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?" Zestial remained silent.
"Oh. What's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for--"
@mihawksdemoness @avatar-lover
Let me know if you guys want to me to tag you. And I gave a specialy surprise coming soon! Follow @deathexe6110 bc I owe them a HUGEEEEEEEEE THANK YOU for the surpise <3
#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel x reader#x male reader#habzin hotel#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel lucifer#viziepop#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin hotel alastor#storydays
120 notes
·
View notes
Note
Aemond and the trope "Reluctantly has a crush on his favourite weirdo and hates that he's soft about it but damn they're cute" gives me life
"I hate that I'm in love with you, what no I didn't say love, shut up" vibes
'Y/N, try to act like you're enjoying this."
"Bite me, Aemond."
haha this was the perfect ask for my newest enemies to lovers oneshot.
Aemond x fem!reader | enemies to lovers | light smut at end
“In public, we’re in love. In private, we are in a civil war. Remember that, or we’re fucked.”
Aemond stifled a snort of derision at your terse whisper, turning it into a polite cough as he nodded at a group of huddled onlookers. You shot him a sidelong look, quickly looking away to smile at a pair of elderly women who were clapping for you. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Hush, we can air our grievances once we get someplace with less listening ears.” Aemond’s arm around your waist tightened, almost painfully, as he steered you through the crowded hallways. “Besides, I am madly in love with my betrothed.”
“Oh, you’re going to have to work on that.”
“Hmm.”
The stone corridors Aemond and you now walked through were empty, he led you to a set of great oaken doors that swung open on silent hinges. A darkened arched space and smell of many old books greeted you beyond them. “The library, how romantic.”
“Private is more what I was going for.” Aemond pushed the small of your back and you stumbled into the room, shooting him a withering glare over your shoulder.
“You know, I’m not pleased about this either.” You snapped, smoothing your skirts haughtily.
Aemond quickly closed the doors and scanned the room with his violet eye, making sure you two were alone. A fireplace flickered in the hearth, the only source of light in the spacious library. “You are from a house that openly declared for Rhaenyra.”
“Yet…” You had walked over to the mantlepiece by the hearth, running a finger along it and looking in distaste at the dust you gathered. “I find myself suddenly betrothed to Aemond Targaryen who, if I remember correctly, is not on her side.” You let your gaze wander to where he stood stiffly, eyeing his leather jerkin tied at his trim waist with two buckles and sporting intricate dragon fasteners. His sword was at his hip, a small sapphire gemstone inlaid upon the pommel. “Your mother, or rather her father, stole me and are now forcing us to get married so as to ensure my house’s allegiance.”
“They hardly stole you.” Aemond defended, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You were handmaid to my sister.”
“Am I allowed to go home?” You asked, eyes widening in mock surprise.
“No.”
“Then I am a prisoner here.” You turned your back to him, looking into the flames.
“With our union, we gain a key asset to our side.” Aemond said bluntly, his footsteps muffled on the stone floor as he approached you slowly. “The support of your house is instrumental in winning the coming war.”
“Will you stoop so low?” You whirled on him, anger pulsing in your veins, jabbing a finger at his chest. “First your family declares Aegon king against Viserys’ wishes, now you take political hostages!”
Aemond caught your wrist, holding it firmly and jerking you closer. “King Viserys’ last wish was for Aegon to be named his heir.”
“You cannot believe that.” You looked aghast at him. “Surely you’re cleverer than that, Aemond.”
“It matters little what I believe.” The prince released you, shaking his silver head. “I serve my family. A member of which you are soon to become.” A rueful smile pulled at his curved lips. “Whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t.”
“Hmm.” Aemond rolled his eye, running a hand through his long hair. “Perhaps in time you will learn to.” He turned from you, walking crisply to the door. “Don’t stray too far, Y/N. At my behest, you are to be treated with the dignity of a guest. Yet you are not free to leave the Keep.”
“A prisoner.” You muttered again, watching Aemond leave the library, closing the door behind himself.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
“Don’t you think you’re holding me a bit too tight?”
“Well, do you want this to be convincing or not?”
“I do, but a little looser than this would still be convincing.”
Aemond acquiesced. Loosening his grip on your waist as you both slowly swayed on the dance floor. The two of you were having a terrible time. You were barely managing to keep a convincing smile on your face, feeling much more like you were about to begin crying.
“Try to look less like you’re about to vomit, Y/N.”
“Maybe the soup was off.” You smiled sweetly up at him. “Why does it matter whether I appear happy or not? Surely the commonfolk don’t care…maybe they’d like it more if I were wailing and thrashing.”
“There are houses allied with your own who would not be so pleased.” Aemond murmured, bringing his mouth to your ear under the pretense of wishing to hold you closer. “If they saw you were…so unwilling they’d declare against us, and we would be forced to take drastic measures.”
Your stomach clenched. “I’d rather not know what that means.”
“Indeed.”
A ringing of metal on a crystal goblet halted the lilting music, you dropped your hands immediately from Aemond’s shoulders, but he tactfully kept hold of your waist.
“A toast!” It was one of the nobles, his face flush from many cups of wine. “To the two lovebirds! May your wedding day be festive!” Cheers rose up around the room. “And may your wedding night be productive!”
You ducked your head into Aemond’s shoulder, hiding the grimace you couldn’t keep off your face. Clapping and laughter echoed all around you followed by the scrape of goblets against the wooden tables as people toasted your happy union.
“Kiss!” Shouted one drunken reveler. “Give your love a kiss!” Cried another in agreement.
“Oh no.” You murmured into the leather of Aemond’s tunic.
As the crowd took up the chant of “kiss”, clapping their hands in encouragement, you felt Aemond’s finger slip under your chin. He pulled your face up to look at him, his lilac eye sparkling with something akin to mischievous mirth. The sound in the hall grew louder as the two of you hesitated, inches apart. You bit your lower lip, drawing Aemond’s gaze to the movement.
He looked back into your eyes. “May I kiss you, my lady?”
You couldn’t speak, settling for a curt nod. Aemond smirked, bringing his lips to yours with a smooth duck of his head.
A pulse of electricity shot to your core as Aemond’s warm mouth moved against your own. A small, pleased sound escaped your throat, despite your attempts to regain full capacity of your faculties. You had not expected your body to react like this, and it was with surprise you found yourself tangling your fingers in Aemond’s silken hair as he bent you backwards. The crowd laughed, pleased at the show you’d given them, as Aemond pulled away. You avoided his eye as it roved your features, very sure your red cheeks shone like beacons.
You spoke very little the rest of the evening, the feeling of Aemond’s lips on yours thoroughly distracting you; to the point you almost poured gravy into your cup instead of wine. Thankfully, Aemond saved you from that embarrassment, looking at you with mild concern as he poured your wine. You looked away from him quickly, hating yourself for the burning in your cheeks and erratic beating of your heart.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
“The boat awaits, my lady.”
“Thank you.” You gathered your skirts, moving to collect the few bags you’d managed to pack for your escape from King’s Landing.
Your waiting maid curtsied, a small frown upon her face. You looked at her, briefly wondering the reason for her mood before a rapping knock at the door sent your adrenaline spiking.
Your maid hurried to the door, opening it a crack, before curtsying low as Aemond pushed his way into your room. He was fully dressed despite the late hour, his coat and gloves of deepest green, contrasting with his silvery hair. His violet eye snapped to focus on you with dangerous intent. “Leave us.”
The maid curtsied again, looking terrified at the ground.
“See my mother in the morning for your coin.” Aemond dismissed her, not breaking his gaze from your face.
You watched the traitorous girl scurry from the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
“My brother may be incompetent and unaware…” Aemond took measured steps toward you. “I am not.”
Tears welled behind your eyes, anger and frustration mixing in your chest. You moved to stride passed the prince, but he caught your arms, spinning you to face him. You fought against him, useless as it was, the tears falling freely down your cheeks as he held you firm, unflinching as your fists met his chest.
“Y/N.”
“Let me go, Aemond!”
“Y/N-”
“I cannot be kept here like some prize animal!”
Aemond moved with you until your back hit the wall. Your fists on his chest flattened as you pressed your palms against his coat, your eyes puffy as sobs racked your body. Aemond made a soft noise in the back of his throat, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as you leaned your forehead against his chest, beneath his chin. His other hand rubbed the small of your back soothingly.
“There is little I can say to make this easier, Y/N.” Aemond took your shoulders, encouraging you to look at him. “I am truly sorry for your distress. I do not wish for you to suffer.”
“What do you wish for, Aemond?” You sniffled, feeling his fingers lightly brush your tear-stained cheeks.
“A great many things.” Aemond’s gaze, so cold with anger a moment ago, had softened as you looked up at him with watery eyes. “War not being among them. Nor wedding a woman who despises me.”
“I don’t despise you, Aemond.” He stilled at your words looking at you with a guarded expression as you continued. “You’re a pawn in this as much as I am.”
“I don’t know how to take that.” A wry smile curved his lips as Aemond continued watching you.
“Will I ever be able to see my family again?”
“After the war is over, and the threat to Aegon’s rule is removed.” Aemond smoothed your hair, tucking a strand of it behind your ear. “It won’t be long, Y/N.”
“How do you know?”
Aemond sighed, unable to answer, his eye searching your own. Silence stretched between the two of you, heavy with unspoken words.
“Don’t try leaving again. I might not be the one to catch you next time.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
“Aemond?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
You rolled your eyes, quickly schooling your fond smile into a more neutral expression. “What do you see?”
Aemond didn’t answer, a small smirk curling his lips as he continued to observe you over his book.
“What?” You snapped your own book shut, rising to your feet, your brow arched.
Aemond methodically marked his place, shutting his volume of philosophy and setting it aside before standing to meet you. “An infuriating woman, is what I see.” His reached out to knead the fabric of your skirts with his fingers, his gaze lilac intent on your face.
“I’m flattered.”
“You are something, Y/N, that much is certain.”
“You’re a royal pain in my-” Your words were cut off in a gasp as Aemond swiftly pulled you to him, capturing your mouth with his own, drinking down the gasping moan that escaped your throat.
You felt his hot breath fill your lungs, your hands wandering the planes of his back, curling in his hair, tugging the silver locks to make him hum in pleasure like that again. You felt his knee part your thighs, his touch tracing lines of fire along the exposed skin of your throat and chest. You lost yourself in the feel and taste and smell of the prince as he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You arched into his hand, pressing into where he palmed your breast through the velvety bodice you wore.
“Aemond.” You breathed, your lips brushing his as he made to pull away from you. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this.” Your hands tugged at his trim waist, urging his body to press back against you.
“You want this?” He asked, his eye hooded as he looked down into your flushed face, his own cheeks faintly pink.
“I want this.” You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your throat. “I need-”
Your words cut off in another heady moan as you felt him mark your skin, sucking trailing kisses down to the swell of your breast straining above your corsage.
“Hmm?” He murmured against your flesh. “What do you need, my love?”
You felt his hands bunching the fabric of your skirts, the heat of his fingers finding the inside of your thighs.
“Aemond-” You gasped, his exploratory hands dipping beneath your smallclothes.
“Ah.” He chuckled low, kissing the corner of your panting mouth. “I see.” He looked at your wanton expression with a dilated eye. “In that case, let me give him to you.”
You ground yourself against his hand, your lust taking full control as you kissed Aemond roughly, pulling his hair so that his head tipped back, exposing his throat to your own bruising kisses.
“If it is within my power, I will give you all that you desire.” Aemond promised, his voice husky with want. He lifted you into his arms, you wrapped your legs around his torso as he backed you against the wall, his lips descending hard upon your own once more.
#aemond fluff#aemond smut#aemond x reader#prince aemond x reader#hotd aemond x reader#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen#prince aemond#pro aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x you#aemond drabble#aemond oneshot#aemond one eye x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#hotd aemond#house of the dragon aemond
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi girl!!!
I have this idea running around in my head for so long. Can you write the demon bros with little sister reader (around the teenage year)? Hear me out. She's the 8th of the family which means she's the youngest. The brothers must be overprotective of her and they would love her so much. Lucifer would have a soft spot for her. She and Mammon would be partners in crime. Then Satan will help her with her study and Asmo will love to help her do her hair. That's it 😁
Btw I love your writing...
hihi! yeah ofc i can! <3
as per usual I had no idea where this was going🧍♂️
but this was super fun to write as well
grma for the ask! <3
[Amazing Title]-Obey Me Brothers + Little Sister! Reader
Summary: The brothers except MC's their wee sister ig, chaos ensues.
Word Count: 3.8k+
Warnings: Mentions of Death, Female Reader (she/her pronouns used) MC changes her hair length and colour when she feels like it, also she has a crush on some rando idek,
dividers by @cafekitsune
Lucifer was sick to his stomach. Long broken wings attempted to flap, ivory feathers turning black. Wounds open and bleeding. Shooting through stormy skies like a dying star.
His eyes burnt, the speed of his fall making it almost impossible to take in a breath. His lungs burnt. His heart hurt. He hadn´t understood death until Cain took the Rock to Abel, until Father took the scepter to Lilith.
Was he going to die?
He was falling.
As he tore through the sky at a damned pace, he caught a glimpse of warm bronze skin, unusually cold, stained with blood as red as the long crimson hair of his sister.
Despite the pain, despite the strain in his broken, burnt wings, he used the last of his willpower, the last of his strength, to get to the young girl.
He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her close to his chest, attempting to shield her from the fall.
"Luci?-" Lilith chokes out weakly, skin greying, holding onto her brother like a lifeline, one that was getting further away, as her grip slowly loosened. "Luci...I-im scared..."
"D-...don't be..." Lucifer manages to choke out. He could see some sembelance of land now. Some sembelance of an end to the torture of just....falling. "I'll protect you, L-Lilith."
He held on tight to her as he braced for impact, not registering that his little sister had died in his arms, that six wings became two.
He lost conciousness for a moment, hardly lucid, coming to moments later. The ringing in his ears didn't stop.
He coughed up dirt. Dust cleared to reveal two demons, as he looked around he saw crimson everywhere. Filthy fuil dearg coated the crater he'd created. Lucifer scrambled up, staring at the mangled form of what used to be his sister. Not noticing a pair of his wings at his feet. They didn't matter.
He screamed. Gently cradling the corpse, looking up at the Demon Prince with eyes filled with firey fearg, "Save her! Bring her back! Help her..!" He shouts, anger fading to desperation.
The prince regards him with a sort of impassivity, after backs and forths and emotions unravelling, the Demons agree to revive his precious sister as a human, provided Lucifer swears his loyalty, makes a vow with a heavy heart.
"I Lucifer Morningstar....swear absolute loyalty to Lord Diavolo, Prince of Hell."
"Very good."
With a snap of the Demon Butler's finger, his sister disappeared, a screech erupted, but it wasn't from Lucifer. Turning behind him, the disgraced angel saw one of the wings he had barely registered splitting from him---too focused on the pain of losing his sister than the pain of losing his wings,-- the now black mass of feathers morphed and grew like bubbling tar, emitting screeches.
The creature that formed of it, pale of skin, blond of hair, its face contorted in a pain Lucifer felt was a part of him. The demon races, screeching with a fury unbridled. Destruction followed it.
The Demon Prince and Butler watch on with intrigue whilst Lucifer tries to keep from breaking down a second time. The sound of whistling through the air alerts him of his other brothers falling. He looks up, hoping to see where they landed.
Somewhere amongst the vast Devildom. He had to find them. He couldn't handle another death, another loss. Despite his disgrace, his deportation from the only home he'd ever known, he prays to Father one last time, that his brothers were alive.
"There's no need. I will attend to the fallen angels now." The butler says serenely, both him and the Demon Prince disappearing within a moment's notice. Although the latter was more hesitant.
The creature of his wing is still screeching, like a coyote on the prowl, but inherently more sinister. It bites and screams, eyes filled with a murderous rage, one it directs towards Lucifer, as it comes charging at him like a bull of the plaza de toros.
Lucifer takes a step back, His foot hitting something soft and quishy. He pauses, the thing cries. The wails of a newborn cutting through the thick air like a knife, the creature of his wing stops screeching, tilting its head and staring down at the ground.
Lucifer gently picks you up. Cradling you in his arms. He looks to both you and the Creature of Wrath, both so inherently different, both his.
He looks into your eyes for a moment, such a tiny demon, more suited to be an angel, so unlike the pure cantankerousness of the older of the two creatures of his wings.
Lucifer, in the throws of his grief, made two vows that day, the first an oath of absolute loyalty to the Demon Prince, the second, a móid to always protect you.
You tapped your pen against the desk, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your textbook. Shoulder length black hair tied in a low ponytail so it wasn't pouring over your face as you worked. You sighed in defeat, set your pen down and looked up at your two older brothers who were sitting opposite you, and planning out what looks to be another failed prank.
Satan and Belphie had their heads together, murmuring rather animatedly amongst eachother. You snorted, leaning over the table, your sudden movement catches their attention as you stare up at them, your head tilted.
"What about a whoopie cushion?" You ask softly, Belphie makes a face.
"We are not using...human...pranks, we're demons." He snorts, "We have more class than that."
You pout, Satan pinches him from under the table. His green eyes looking dotingly at you, like he would a cat. Coincidentally, he pats your head, ruffling your hair. "I think a simple human world prank could be entertaining to try." He says, giving Belphie a look, the Seventh Born raises his hands lazily in defeat, before leisurely sliding over the table to sit beside you, you quickly flipped to a blank page in your notebook, lest your older brother see the doodles you'd absentmindedly scribbled of you and your crush, a demon from your Devildom History Class.
Satan writes 'Whoopie Cushion' in cursive on their blueprint plans, tongue sticking out ever so slightly, before going back to his own homework. Belphie leans his head on your shoulder, dozing off.
"How did Fear Gorta come to fruition as an entity in the Human Realm?" You read off of your paper, Satan looks up from his essay for seductive speechcraft--a class which you were too young to take--he blinks for a moment, before setting his fountain pen down, and taking up the seat on the other side of you.
Belphie looks over at you tiredly, stretching his arms.
"Need any help?"
"Need any help?"
They glare at each other playfully, you nod.
Satan takes the textbook from you for a moment, reading the question aloud again.
"Fear Gorta are said to rise from Féar Gortach....sometimes they're just people who died of starvation near Sídhe hills." Satan begins to explain, watching as you nod along.
"They were said to go around with a bowl for begging or almsgiving...travelling, knocking on doors, asking for food." Belphie interjects lazily, head still on your shoulder. "They could hardly keep the bowl from dropping, because they were so weak."
You nod, writing it down, you'd always had trouble simplifying long texts down to their key parts, something Lucifer had assured you would come with time. It was a good thing you had your brothers. They were always willing to help you with homework.
"But what about that has to do with the Fear Gorta coming to fruition in the Human Realm?" You ask, feeling a little dumb.
Satan clears his throat, "Well, some Devildom and Human Scholara believe that the Fear Gorta is what brought the Famine to Ireland. Supposedly, just before the Great Famine, he emerged after a battle of the Fae near Cnoc Meadha."
You scribble that down, your tongue sticking out slightly, an idiosyncrasy developed from your older brother.
Belphie hums, eyes closed, and breathing so even you thought he was asleep. "Mhm, but others believe he's a personification of An Gorta Mór, or the Great Famine himself. That the people of Ireland made him up during the 1840s as a way of coping with and explaining the potato blight."
Upon seeing your confused face, Satan chuckles, "Essentially, the Fear Gorta is an example of how Human suffering can cause mythological beings to be thought up, and how with enough Human Manifestation, they can truly become something that exists."
As if to emphasize, Satan takes a random pen and a scrap piece of paper, drawing little doodles with the summarising he and Belphie had just did.
"Thanks Satan! Thanks Belphie!" You grin, taking the scrap piece of paper, using it to help you jot down the rest of your notes, finally understanding, you begin to answer the question, making a mental note to not let Mammon see the drawings that Satan drew, ever.
It takes a total of ten minutes of pens scratching against paper, Belphie's soft snores, and the dull drill of your own thoughts before you set your pen down, and look up grinning at Satan.
"So...about the prank you're planning..."
The next morning, all decked out in your RAD uniform, you sit on a poof and stare at your reflection in the luxurious vanity. You had decided on long hair, a dark pink so deep it was almost red. That was one of the búntáistí of having the Avatars of Lust and Wrath as brothers, you knew all the best spells for hair, and boy did you exploit that fact.
Short hair? No problem. Long hair? Alright then. Curly? Straight? Wavy? Ask and you shall receive.
Not to mention, Asmo would style your hair, no matter the length, shade or texture, and he would always make it look gorgeous Which was exactly what he was doing now, a gentle comb being ran down your hair, before your brother begins to braid strands in an intercate half-up, half-down pattern.
It's always relaxing when your 5th oldest brother does your hair, always conscious of not hurting you, you let your mind wander.
And wander your mind does, twisting and turning while travelling through the crevices of your brain, eventually coming to a stop at its destination, which just so happened to be the demon in your Devildom History class. They made you feel giddy, with their shoulder length, layered turquoise hair and purposely messy black eye shadow in place of the usual clean cut liquid eyeliner.
"Something on your mind, hon?" Asmo asks concerned as he puts a soft, black bow in your hair, you had been unfocused for a while now.
"Its nothing!" You say a little too defensively, your older brother gives you a knowing look, perfectly threaded eyebrows raising ever so slightly before he gasps and grins excitedly, holding back a squeal.
"Oh!~ And just who is this nothing, honey?~" He asks, you cover your face in your hands and groan, mortification dripping over you as Asmo finishes up on your hair.
Once your hair is done, you rush out, so as not to give the Avatar of annoying you lust any more ammo to tease you with.
Unluckily for you, Asmo was very environmentally friendly, and could make his own ammo.
Your mortification however, is not as short-lived as you'd hoped it would be.
Upon entering the dining room, you make a beeline for Mammon, your partner in crime, and sit beside your 2nd oldest brother, who laughs at you.
"Ye look like yer goin' to a Feis!" He laughs, slapping his knees ad doubled over, you pout and Lucifer, who sat directly diagonal to Mammon at the head of the table slapped him up the back of the head, leaving the avatar of greed choking and spluttering on his own spit.
"S-sorry MC..." He says in between coughs, "Ya look lovely..." He gives you an awkward side hug before resuming his activity of choking to death. You turn to the rest of your brothers as they trickle in, Levi was having an anime marathon, and for the sake of the Devildom seas, and the House of Lamentation not flooding for the nth time, he was allowed to stay in his room, provided he ate something of nutritional value, which meant that some time in the next few hours Lucifer would come into the 3rd born's room with a bowl of freshly cut fruit and force the otaku to eat it.
He was such a mother hen.
Speaking of Lucifer....
"MC," Lucifer drawls, catching your attention. "I received your bi-weekly report last night, you did well in all subjects, though I've noticed your History scores have gone down..." Your eldest brother sets his fork down fully and leans in a little closer to you, only a little bit of concern and a whole lot of care in his eyes, no judgement whatsoever. "Are you not understanding the course material? Would you like me to help you with your work? Or we could get you a tutor."
Asmo leans in to your conversation, eye glittering mischievously, he had taken a little longer to come down to breakfast than he usually did. You were sure he eliminated all of the options and knew exactly what demon you were crushing on.
"Now now Luci!~" He interjects, earning a soft glare from Lucifer, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, MC's just a little bit....distracted..." He puts his hands on your shoulders.
Lucifer's eyes widen ever so slightly, Belphie and Satan exchange knowing glances, Beel blinks slowly, were you having trouble focusing in class?
Mammon discreetly opens his DDD under the table, if you were having trouble focusing, he knew a few guys who sold some pretty good remedies for that.
You groan, quickly scarfing down the rest of your breakfast before grabbing Mammon and running out the door, your older brother yelling in confusion.
6 other brothers watch you leave, before turning to Asmo.
Belphie is the first to speak, "Alright, who is it?"
"Who's what?" Beel tilts his head, Belphie turns to him with a smile.
"MC has a crush on someone in her History class."
"Oh, okay." Beel turns to Asmo, "Who is it?"
You and Mammon arrive at RAD unusually early, on account of you essentially fleeing the breakfast table like an escaped convict and dragging your brother with you.
Mammon wasn't annoyed at all, despite his outward act, in actuality, he was delighted. You had picked him to drag out of a chair and run with you?! That meant he must be your favourite big brother! His chest puffs out with pride as you both chatter whilst he walks you to your form class. What type of favourite big brother would he be if he let his little sister walk down the scary hallways of school alone?!
"And then Satan said-" You stop uncerimonously when you catch sight of who's at the other end of the corridor, a blush coating your cheeks, barely noticeable on your skin, hardly even there, but Mammon still picked up on it.
"Hey, twerp, what's up wi' ye?" He asks, examining the hallway, taking notice of the only other demon there.
With a baggy dark denim jacket adorned in pins pulled over their RAD uniform, headphones snapped over their ears, messy turquoise hair cascading down their tanned face. The demon is young--Mammon notices--they look around the same age as you, maybe slightly older.
As they get closer and spot MC, they grin, silver braces shining in the light of the RAD hallway. "Hiya MC! You´re in early!" The demon calls out to you, Mammon notes how you swallow thickly before waving shyly at the demon in question as they approach the pair of you.
The demon goes to rub their eyes, but upon remembering the messy yet purposeful placement of black eyeshadow acting as eyeliner, they stop and pout for just a moment before looking at MC and grinning, eyes as grey as stone flickering to Mammon for just a moment, the demon looks to you and raises one of their thick, dark eyebrows.
"This one of your brothers, MC?" They ask, gaze flickering between you and your brother like a faulty lightbulb.
"O-oh uh...yes! Mammon this is C-Caelus....Caelus this is Mammon..." You introduce them.
"Oh, please, call me Cael, everyone does!" They smile politely at Mammon reaching out to shake his hand, Mammon, bites the inside of his cheek to stop his jaw from dropping. You had a....crush on Cael didn't you?"
"Oh aye." Is all he can manage to say.
Cael nods, before turning completely to face you, they eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, "So, how come you're in early today?..Nice hair by the way!" They run a hand through their dark turquoise hair, messing it up with their long fingers.
"Oh uh thanks Cael!" You bite your lip, trying to figure out what to say next. "I was thinking of getting in early and studying for the test next week...." You lie, though it did sound like a good idea. No way were you explaining the fiasco that was Breakfast.
Mammon watches like a crow, stopping himself from cooing. You were so adorable! His favourite little dickhead's first crush! They grow up so fast!
He cringes internally, thinking, 'What the actual fuck, I sound like Asmo.'
After another moment, he interupts your conversation to tell you that he needs to go, you nod and say goodbye, before continuing to talk to Cael and trying to keep your blushing under control.
Mammon tredges to the courtyard before whistling.
"Hiya Éan!" He coos to the crow that lands perched on his shoulders, the bird looks unamusedly at him, its been a year and the avian was still judging him for the name choice! "Oh stop yer yappin'...." At the unimpressed look Éan gives him, his eyelid twitches. "Well, I know yer gurnin' internally...don't think I'm dim."
Éan caws.
"Look, I need ye ta do somethin' for me, so I do." Mammon groans at the crows shaking of its head. "I'm not askin' ye to assassinate anyone! I just need ye to keep an eye on this one wee demon in m'sister's class..."
Éan blinks, before leaning in closer to Mammon, he pets its head, it leans into the touch.
"Right so listen up, their name's Caelus...but people call 'em Cael...I need ye to keep an eye on them and give me a report back in a day or so, we clear?"
Éan lets out a quiet caw.
"Great!"
After a long day of RAD, you waled into the attic, where Satan and Belphie were unboxing whoopie cushions. Or rather Satan was unboxing whoopie cushions and Belphie was watching him lazily.
"Hi MC." Belphie smiles at you before gesturing to sit beside him, so you do.
"I thought you said my human world pranks were stupid." You look at Belphie.
"I've decided that since I'm such a good role model, I'll give it a go."
You deadpan, about to say something before a bellowing laugh erupts from Satan.
"You? A good role model?" The 4th born wipes a tear from his eye. "What's next? Lucifer breaking up with Lord Diavolo?"
"I don't think they're dating Satie…" You butt in.
Belphie smirks, "Then why are they so gay?"
"He is the Avatar of Pride, I guess." You shrug.
And with that, Satan picks up the whoopie cushion and the three of you begin your descent down the staircase to Lucifer's office. With you making small talk to distract them from Asmo's words in the morning.
You reach Lucifer's office, but now you need to draw him out. Satan walks in.
"Hello Lucifer."
"Your prank's not going to work." Lucifer puts his pen down.
Satan puts a hand over his heart in mock offence. "No, I saw a cat on the streets walking home and I want to adopt it." He says, not even lying.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you don't need one."
Satan feels wrath bubble up inside him, before he makes a risky move, knowing he needs Lucifer out of his office so you can place the whoopie cushion. "Well if I don't need a cat then you don't need your paperwork!"
He reaches forward and grabs the official documents on Lucifer's desk then bolts.
Lucifer jolts up out of his seat and races after him, out of the office.
That's your cue, quick as a thief on the hunt, you run into your eldest brother's office, and place the whoopie cushion down on his seat, you did it!
"Are you having fun, MC?" Lucifer asks, you jump. Turning around you see a slightly disheveled Lucifer staring at you, eyebrow raised and holding slightly crinkled papers. You back away.
"I wasn't doing anything!" You lie obviously.
"Hmm. Sure….now as for your punishment….I've already strung Satan up in the enterance hall, and I'm certain Belphie has gone somewhere to sleep, when he wakes up he will be appropriately disciplined of course…." He moves closer to you. "Now as for you….." Lucifer clicks his fingers and a desk and chair appear, the waves of magic pushing you into it.
You're going to sit there until I've finished my work. No DDD."
You groan, but don't complain, if it was anyone else out of your brothers, Lucifer would have strung them up like he did with Satan.
An hour goes by, though it seems like several to you, as you're bored out of your mind. Lucifer sets his pen down and stares at you.
"Now, tell me about this Caelus."
You stiffen, knowing better than to lie to your eldest, and strictest brother. "They uh-they're a demon in my class…"
Lucifer raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, "And what's this I'm hearing about you having a crush on them?"
"Asmo!" You gurn, covering your face in your hands.
"Asmo and Mammon, actually." Lucifer's lips twitch upwards. "Do you have anything to day for yourself?"
"I won't do drugs."
"MC."
"Okay fine! They're a good demon, I promise! I don't even know if I wanna ask them out yet!"
Lucifer's eyes soften, seeing you now, sitting at a desk, complaining about love…he can't help but be reminded of a different person in a different realm long ago, long passed.
"I trust you, but be careful, okay?"
You nod, something churns in Lucifer's stomach as he looks at you, gracefully moving over to you, and pulling you into a soft hug, arms wrapping around you protectively, as if shielding you from the elements.
"And if ever, you need any help whatsoever, come to me? You understand?"
You nod.
"Say it."
"I understand Luci."
Lucifer smiles, ruffling your hair. "I will always protect you MC."
AND WE'RE DONE!!! this was honetly fun to write, i had no idea where i was going with this and i'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense 🧍♂️
fuil (pronounced 'full') means blood, móid (maw-d-ge) means vow or promise, 'to make a vow' would translate to 'móid a thabhairt' (maw-d-ge ah how-ert-ch)
éan (pronounced 'ane') means bird. idk i thought it was funny
#obey me imagines#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me headcanons#omswd#obey me mc#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me fluff#obey me platonic#obey me lilith#obey me brothers
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luis Sera Having A Crush On You Would Include...
Request: I don't have anything specific to request but I totally 100% would die for some spicy Luis headcanons!!!
Ngl I would climb this man like a tree so I kind of expanded this into some cute and spicy ones as well, I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing these! ;)
This takes quite a long time to write, so if you enjoy, please leave a comment/ reblog, it really helps me!!
Warning: some spicy headcanons, some sexual allusions, mentions of guns, mentions of injury and blood, mentions of smoking, some light swearing!
(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @stdismas.)
☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°
When you radioed Hunnigan to let her know you may drop off the map because you had been tied up, you had no idea that the words would become so literal.
Groggily waking up to a firm back pressed against your own and rapid unintelligible Spanish babbling in your ear wasn't what you first expected when you and Leon had touched down in Valdelobos for the mission, but after the morning you've had you're little surprised. As you feel around your wrists to try and find out if you've been bound or chained to the ceiling of this quaint little sub-room, you're pleasantly surprised that said annoyed person behind you hasn't thrown an axe at you yet. It was only when you pulled at steel chain and the man suddenly stopped talking with a 'woAH' to come flying into your face that events started to become a little more unusual.
'Good morning sleeping beauty, ha!' You finally have full view of the man whose swinging before you, the toes of his dusty boots barely touching the ground and the firm chest held behind his tight leather jacket swaying uneasily against your own. Whiskey coloured curls hide inquisitive eyes, and as soon as he realises you're conscious he abandons whatever futile attempts he was trying in tugging off his cuffs to instead grin fully at you. 'Can I give you a kiss now, and you'll turn me into a prince?' He wiggles his eyebrows at you, wetting his bottom lip with the edge of his tongue as his body bounces against you again.
You yank at the chain, doing your best to keep your face professional as the wheels bounce over the beam and the man comes knocking into your face, held up only by your upper arm strength and a leg you wrap courteously around his quads to keep him balanced. 'You're mixing up your fairy tales. You telling me you're a frog?' You let him drop to the ground with an unceremonious thud as you break free, and Luis has to pretend, with his ass handed to him on the cobbled floor, that as you walk past him he didn't enjoy every single second of that.
When you finally find Leon desperately sifting through your stolen belongings in the next room over, the relief immediately floods his eyes as he pulls you into a tight hug. When he sees Luis following you like a puppy from over your shoulder, though, you can hear him sigh against your shoulder. Said shoulder which soon had Luis' hand firmly pressed against it.
'He won't stop touching my shoulder', you groan to Leon.
'I know. He does that', he replies with a tighter squeeze.
Luis was incredibly good at making your next meeting seem like just happenstance.
It wasn't as if he had scoped you out for miles down the rocky tracks, his heart hammering in times to the bells that rang out from his old church. It wasn't as if he had 'borrowed' a pair of binoculars from his new found friend Ada, and had watched you bring down Del Lago with an embarrassingly loud cheer and punch of the air. It wasn't as if he had been sitting leisurely behind this boat house playing with his lighter for half an hour, brain torn between getting back to his lab, and his heart's plea to see you again.
You're less than astonished when the man jumps out at you with his arms out at his sight, immediately cocky when he spots your magnum raised up towards his face. 'Now now, my princess. If you shoot me now, then how will we ever transform this magical kingdom, ey?' You're even less surprised when he wraps an arm around your shoulder, murmuring into your ear about how he's going to be like some knight in shining armour as you holster your gun and let him lead you further off into the wilderness of the village.
He's constantly asking you questions, though, when the two of you brave a stop to take stock of your ammo reserves and to charter the maps Hunnigan sent over to you. Luis just perches next to you on a free boulder, gently rubbing his pointer finger and thumb over his jawline, and watching you with something akin to enthrallment rising through his weary face. Although he tries to make them sound flirty, you can see the seriousness in his usual light-hearted expressions, beginning to become aware of his subtleties: in the way his eyes crinkle for a moment when the words leave his lip, or the give away of his leather shifting as his fingers clench where they're crossed underneath his armpits.
You shake it off as you answer him honestly, not realising that this is the first time since he was a child that anyone had ever talked to him as him. Not as a runaway. Not as a profit. Not as a monster. Not as a threat. Not as a joke. Just as... Luis. Something tight clenched in his heart, and as he nodded along to your answer, he found himself beginning to flush at how nice it felt.
It becomes a running joke between the two of you that whenever a villager tries to hit you with a lit torch, he asks if you 'have a light?'
Speaking of, when the two of you end up by one of the rundown boathouses littering the lake side, he leans his leg back against one of the boards to light a smoke. With a confused tilt of his head, his eyes suddenly widen when you stop his hand from playing with his lighter, stealing the cigarette out of his mouth. Instead, you cup your hands around the knuckles of his larger ones and lower your head down to light the end of the cigarette.
He fidgets, a knowing look on his face as he tries to hide how turned on he's become, how incredibly tight his jeans suddenly seem to feel when you let go and take a drag. Before he can reach for your lips to steal it back, though, you throw the cigarette into the lake with a wink, leaving him feeling only all the more turned on.
But Luis is also incredibly protective of you!! When you're being surrounded by hordes of angry plagas villagers in a derelict cabin, the man is constantly jumping in your way with all guns ablazing. It starts to frustrate you how, without any formal training or without any bloody protective gear he keeps shielding you from pitchforks with only his pecs to protect him. He just laughs, pulling you behind him and throwing off your aim as he holds a shard of broken bookcase out in front of him like a lance. Whenever you climb the stairs to kick down some of the ladders on the second floor, Luis is hot on your heels like your own personal talkative shadow. Thankfully though, while you were busy trying to lift the bed and shove it back against the shards of a newly broken window, Luis was there to notice a villager's head splat open and tentacles sprout out of it right behind your back. With a cry, he pounces himself at them, narrowly avoiding you getting a lash to the face as he uses his weight to knock them off the balcony.
You repay him by sliding your leg forward and managing, just in time, to stop his arms waving and his staggering legs from falling over the edge as well by grabbing the collar of his jacket and hauling him back onto you.
'See senorita?', he asks between pants, the two of you collapsed down onto the floor with Luis lying between your legs. He lets his head leisurely loll down onto the joint at the top of your thigh, letting his open palm fall over your knee. 'Nothing to it!' You roll your eyes, but even he notices the relief flood through your uneasy body when he uses his free hand to reach up and touch your face. At first you jump, not expecting the warm buzzing feeling of his fingertips holding your chin, but you slowly relax as he tilts your head back and forth. There's an intensity in his eyes that you haven't seem from him before, as he swipes a bead of blood away from the cut on your lower lip without a second thought. A kind of fury, but also... a hint of guilt racking through his head as he makes sure you're alright.
You can bet your ass though that as soon as you heft him back up onto his feet, he refuses to go out the door. Instead, he hops up on top an antique wine barrel, and pouts his lips at you. He whines like a kicked puppy until you agree to fix up his wounds now, and to kiss them all better.
'Absolutely not', you say through a smile, coming to stand in between his legs. He goes uncharacteristically still when you reach up to cradle his face, an almost imperceptible huff of air hitching through his nostrils when you tilt his cheek further into your palm. He rests his head heavily, the corner of his lips twitching up as he rubs his stubble against your skin and tickles you. 'Cut it out or I'll be sewing your eyelid to your ass', you warn him, pointing a needle you managed to worm out of your side pack at his nose. He just smiles, watching you work as if you were made of pure starlight itself. As you finish off by crushing up some green herb, you can feel his thick thighs begin to move tighter against your legs, effectively trapping you against his hip.
'I-I'm going to need you to open your mouth', you state, trying your damn best to not give Luis the satisfaction of hearing your voice go hoarse.
'If that's what you've wanted me to do, mi amorcito, all you had to do was ask.' Although he cocks his head at you, he can't help but drop his eyes, desire burning through every electric inch of his body as he drops his bottom lip open. It feels like an eternity as you gingerly press the stalks of herb down onto the point of his tongue, not helped by the way Luis' irises are trained solely onto your own for every second. You don't mean to, but your pointer finger brushes against the plumpness of his lip as you pull away, and you turn your head away with a furious blush when Luis swipes at the spot, leaving a wet trail against it.
You turn to pack up and leave, but he suddenly stands up and grabs onto your arm tightly. He leans sideways until he's almost over you, his brow furrowed as he searches your eyes for an answer he's terrified to find. 'Hey, I won't leave you here, you know? I promise, I'm not going to leave again.'
'Why are you doing this?', you ask tensely. 'Why are you following me?'
He swallows thickly, weighing up whether to confess his truth to you or not. After a moment, he sighs, too afraid at what you might do. 'You are a guest! It would be rude not to take you on a tour of all the hotspots in the village.' Although you roll your eyes, you can't help the way you start to smile at his cheesiness. He begins chuckling too, but you don't notice the way the tips of his ears burn with a crimson flush as he spins his pistol and places it back into his holster, looking up at the ceiling uncertainly.
When it starts raining, he immediately offers you his jacket, quick to unzip it and place it over your head. That is, until you elbow him in the ribs once he asks for 'some of your clothing in return, of course ;)'.
Since you've grown to warily trust the man, you believe him when he leads you into a dank smelling cavern underneath some of the huts, telling you that he miraculously knows of a way to move underneath the monsters undetected. Which is how you found yourself climbing up a well in a densely shrouded area by an incredibly sticking looking altar, running away from a man wielding a chainsaw, and sitting on a very content looking Luis shoulders as you clambered into the musty attic of what used to be the village chief's manor. Flicking your torch through the gloom, you were surprised to step on a cracked frame. Picking it up, you were even more surprised when you ran your thumb over the grime to clear the image of a young boy sitting next to his grandfather. A young boy, who even at that age had such strikingly distinctive... familiar characteristics. A young boy who, as you placed the photo down on a cabinet and began to flick through the pages of a withered journal lying next to it, had been through such grief and horror that you were amazed he was so nonchalantly peering through the rafters next to it.
No, no. That wasn't it. He was good, you had to give him that. He must have spent a long time projecting this image. Perfecting this façade. Wrapping himself up so tightly in his fairy tales of knights and princesses and magical lands, that he almost believed it himself. Almost. But it seemed almost innate with you: the ability to notice his giveaways. To notice the real him. The way his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if guarding himself from bad memories: the way his eyes flitted just ever so minutely around the room, as if a cold grip of fear was squeezing at his lungs: the way, that in all the time you had been standing there watching him, he had noticed the photograph and now refused to look your way.
'You-', you start, not entirely sure what to say. 'This is you? You're from this village? You, you-'
He looks so desolate, so horrifyingly sad as he deflates onto the edge of a desk that you can't even finish the sentence, let alone get to the accusations of his work with Umbrella. Instead, your eyes sweep over the last page of the diary, feeling your heart breaking at the loneliness and confusion this poor man must have felt for so long.
'You were trying to help', you finally murmur out through clenched teeth. 'You are trying to help', you soften, turning your body to face him with furrowed eyebrows. 'That's why you're following me.'
'I might have been', he shrugs, but even that motion seems to take all the energy out of him. He feels different now, more clear, more truthful as he folds his hands out in front of his lap. 'Maybe, at the start. But it's not just that. I'm a selfish man, senorita. Look!'
He throws an arm out towards the window with a faux smile, pointing an accusatory finger at the lingering hoards of torch wielding villagers that are stumbling through the fallen cast iron gates. 'See how well I did at saving them! No, no.' He rubs the bridge of his nose, before glancing crestfallen at the picture frame behind your arm. 'I'm no hero. I'm selfish. I decided a long while ago, mi amor, that I enjoyed your company far too much. If I can't save my village, I'm going to be selfish enough to save you.'
His eyes drop, and his nose sniffs, and you do the only thing your mind can piece together at that moment. You walk forward, and with a tentative face you wrap your arms around his torso and hug him. It takes him a moment to realise that you're not rightfully furious with him, before he lets his head droop down into the curve of your shoulder. You don't say a word when you feel his arms shake, sliding around your ribcage until his hands are clenched fists in the back of your shirt. He's so tall he's almost smothering you, but you don't care a jot. Instead, you just stay a moment in your perfect isolation, allowing the man in front of you the comfort and vulnerability to break.
You thought that was as bad as you would ever see him, but this man gets SERIOUSLY worried when he realises that you've been infected with las plagas too?? He curses himself with an incredibly frantic and incredibly rude string of Spanish curse words, realising it must have been around the same time Leon was infected, and you've been struggling with the pain of it alone this whole time. He goes into Serious Scientist Mode and does his best not to freak out when, in a flash, you've gone from idle chatting to flashing a boot knife at his throat. His adams apple bobs against the serrated edge of the blade as he slowly reaches his hand out to reassuringly squeeze your shoulder once again.
'It's alright, you do what you have to do. I told you, I'm not leaving you again, si?'
Your face crumbles in agonising pain as the black tendrils begin to flood away from your eyes to be replaced by blinking tears, mustering the strength to fling the knife until it sticks firmly into frame of a painting. You fall to the floor, writhing in pain, and it takes all of Luis' strength not to cry out as he falls down beside you like there are firecrackers nipping at his heels. He legit carries you bridle style out the door and onto one of those velvet cushioned chairs in the castle's corridor. He stoops down next to you, and you finally come around to his warm thumb rubbing just under your bottom lash line as he checks the white of your eyes for any lingering signs of infection.
His fingers are incredibly gentle as he unfurls your other intertwined hand to check the pulse on your wrist. The wrinkles on his forehead are so shoved together that he almost looks like he's folded in on himself, and you can barely make out the slight shake of his fingertips as he steadily counts with bated breath. He lets out a whistle of relief through his front teeth once he's reassured, falling backwards onto the gilded frame of the staircase's banister and stretching his legs out in front of him in blissful solace.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when you whisper a pained 'hey handsome', gripping your side and stretching out your neck as you sit up fully. He doesn't even speak, his eyes wide and terrified as he flies forward and pulls you into a desperate hug, so tight against his chest you feel like you might pop if his biceps pulse any more. He seems almost sheepish when he pulls back, until you pull him down by the lapel of his jacket to kiss his cheek and whisper a 'thanks for not leaving me' into the shell of his ear. Like a lightning strike, like life breathed back into his lungs, he's grinning like his old self. The lovestruck dope. You really have wrapped around your pinkie finger.
Him screaming WHEEE and climbing onto your head the whole time you're in the cart mine lmao.
When you guys reach the garden maze, he just can't keep his feelings in any longer. He doesn't quite know if it was you nearly being mauled by the dogs that reminded him of his grandfather, and all he's lost, or if it's just the thought of him not getting you to his lab in time that makes all the frustration and love and pure adrenaline fear slam against his ribs. Before you can even wipe the blood off your forehead, peering around the next corner to see if you can catch sight of an end to these stupid ass hedges, Luis struts forward and cages you in his arms. He's kissing you so fervently, effectively pinning you between his groin, lower legs, and the bristles of the bush behind you that you nearly fall through with the intensity of it.
This man is definitely the type to nearly knock you on your ass though tbf because he's thrusting up against you, so desperate for you.
Smug bastard is smirking the whole time, until he feels your nails scratch lightly against the stubble by the pulse point on his neck. He winces, closing his eyes and turning his head towards the empty air at your side that you think you've hurt him, until the bastard starts groaning.
Without even realising it, Luis has shoved you down onto the grass, breaking your fall by landing you on top of his arm. He crawls between you like a ravenous tiger until he's hovering over your face. He bites at the side of your neck, leaving a few wet marks as his tongue eagerly glides across your skin as your hand desperately reaches up onto the stone side of the fountain. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly on your stomach ravishes you, only for your grasping hand to be met with his own heavily landing on top of it, interlinking quickly with your fingers. He growls as he pulls at the bottom of your thighs, raising your lower body further up towards him whilst also pulling your raised legs around the bottom of his back.
His other hand is aflame as it holds tight against the side of your pelvis, effectively holding you in place as he grinds against you, teeth nipping at your top lip as he kisses you like the world might end around him at any moment. His breath pants against your tongue, hand wandering like smooth butter down the sides of your hip, making sure you experience every inch of pleasure that's been pent up over the last few days. Making sure, with each swirl of his tongue against your own, that you finally realise how much he adores every inch of you. Ensuring, as he pulls you down by the hips to rest against the belt buckle of his jeans, that you're safe in the knowledge that he's never felt this in love: this safe, this devoted, so like himself again with anyone else.
Thankfully you're there to look out for each through thick and thin, and even more thankfully you're there to stop him being attacked and grievously wounded by Krauser. He swears, as the two of you finally come running hand in hand into his lab, and he holds onto your fingers with a grip tight and sweaty enough to bend metal, that he's going to make the most of this chance at redemption he's been given. He's going to be your knight in shining armour, for as long as he may live.
#resident evil#luis sera#luis sera imagine#luis sera x reader#luis sera headcanons#resident evil imagine#leon kennedy#resident evil headcanons#re 4#re 4 imagine#resident evil 4#resident evil 4 remake#luis resident evil#luis re#luis resident evil imagine#re4#re4 remake
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tourney of Blood
warnings: canon-typical violence, OOC-ish Otto but i mean, they're all OOC cause they're yanderes, yanderes but it's not super explicit as u can read this as a stand-alone piece.
pairings: all platonic, though i wrote this heavily biased towards Otto x reader and because of that, has been tagged as such.
notes: this has been in drafts for awhile, please i beg of ALL my readers i want to hear feedback, i want to actually hear that you enjoyed it(if you did), whether in comments or inbox. Notes are no longer what they were before.
Series: This is officially a part of my "Their Angel" series which is a yandere hotd AU series which can be categorized as a y/nbowl (where all characters go after one), but don't worry i can write individual x readers for this au upon request <3
The day of the first Tourney was here, Queen Aemma has started her labours, and King Viserys happily watched the jousting match for his soon-to-be son.
You sat beside Otto, and beside him is Viserys. You’re white clothing stuck out like a thumb, almost reflecting the neighbouring colours around you. Your crown sits upon your head, Targaryen gems decorating it, your veil tucked back for better viewing.
Anxiously you spin the ring upon your left thumb, Aemma’s labour left you worried but you held it in, for Viserys and Rhaenrya, they relied upon you with their personal worries. Sliding your own fingers across your lip as you chew, flinching when the knight flies off of his horse, jousting stick sent through his shield.
“Stop it.” Otto demands, quietly as he leans towards you, taking your hand from your mouth. Before he could pull it away, you grip it, rubbing your thumb across his aged fingers.
“I do not see the point of beating each other senseless, Ser Otto.” Turning your body closer to the man, sneering as two knights begin to fight. “We could be doing better things. I could be doing better things.” Huffing as you look at Otto, he gives a weak smile.
“It’s all for your soon-to-be brother, my princess.” He answers, he brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the king. The Targaryens, Hightowers and Velaryons have fought over you since your first step into the red keep.
“blood shed for a babe? odd.” you shoot back, “i could be with the queen now. Helping her.” It is no secret in the castle of Queen Aemmas decade-long past with pregnancies, only having one living child. Princess Rhaenrya.
“That is something you shouldn’t worry yourself over.” Otto grips your hand tighter, making you look at him. Worry. Something that has driven you to near madness, has made you starve and harm yourself. Maesters have told you many things, some losing their tongues for such words that the king did not like being used when addressing you.
“How can I not.” you lean closer to him, “it is my own mother who lay in bed, in pain, she might as well have pushed me out of her own womb. I feel her pain as if it is my own.” You quickly turn back to the jousting, still holding Otto's hand. Who has now signed leaning back in his chair, looking over and giving Viserys a tense look.
Daemon is up, he scans the knights one by one, before landing on Otto's eldest son. Otto instinctively straightens his bad, puffing his chest out, knowing Daemon did this to offend him. You place your other hand on top of your intertwined ones, as extra comfort.
Daemon, your crass and violent uncle, would do anything to piss Ser Otto Hightower off, This- just about everyone knew. You could only pray for the eldest Hightower son, for now, his life is within the prince's hand.
Horses run at each other, green and black, they point their jousting sticks. Suddenly, Daemon dips his own down, tripping Ser Gwayne’s horse. You quickly turn your head away whilst Gwaynes body was in the air, and Otto's hand tightens around yours.
You are deafened by the roar of the crowd, your only anchor being the old man’s hand. Seconds pass by, and Gwaynes unconscious body is dragged away.
“At least he lives.” You whisper, patting Otto's hand, optimistic that Gwayne shall pull through such a brutal defeat and bruised ego. The sound of hurried steps catches your attention, looking back you’re met with one of the maesters leaning over to your father's ear.
Viserys nods, gets up quickly and walks off, but not without soothing your worries as you watch him. Caressing your chin with a finger as he lets out a soothing “do not fret, dragonling” before he’s gone.
You turn back to the jousting matches, the surrounding sound drowned out by a hum. A low dragon's song, fish swim in your head, at some point, Otto’s hand left yours and he was gone. You do not know if what you saw before you was a painting in motion or from your own vision. Bile rises in your throat as worries stir in your head, the maesters face seemed ashen. With no hand to hold, you begin to chew on your fingernails.
The hum stops as the crowd erupts once more, like the tide washing away blood, it is like your vision came back. You see your uncle on dirt, the opponent stepping on his chest and holding a weapon, your eyes widen as you almost leap out of your seat.
Daemon yields and lives, you feel your heart palpate, gripping your seat arm. Perhaps you should have stayed with Mother, you think, unaware of Otto's return. You see the council around you begin to leave, Rhaenys leans forward and whispers in her children's ears.
Otto approaches you, with a melancholy expression, your chest tightens as you realize what is happening. You can only mouth the words no, shaking your head. He refuses to meet your eye, before his hand meets your shoulder you stand up from your seat. Picking up your skirt and running out of the balcony, tears blurring your vision as you run through the keep.
The day has changed for all within the red-keep.
#Yandere House of The Dragon#yandere hotd#yandere x reader#yandere house of the dragon fic#yandere hotd fic#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#Otto Hightower x reader#otto hightower#rhaenrya targaryen#rhaenys targaryen#rhaenys velaryon#alicent hightower#viserys targaryen#viserys the peaceful#yandere#yandere fic#yandere imagines
276 notes
·
View notes
Text
azriel x eris | 2,4k words | warnings: none | masterlist
“Did you miss me? Is that why you are here again?” Eris drawls. Moonlight dances on the small lake behind him, and it also falls upon the heir to the Autumn Court, illuminating half of his handsome face, his long lashes drawing shadows upon his defined cheeks. His pale skin almost glows beneath the night sky, and a small smirk plays on his lips.
Azriel bristles at the sheer arrogance and takes a step toward the Autumn Court prince. But when he opens his mouth no words leave – he has nothing to say. He has no answer. Because he himself doesn’t know what he is actually doing here. Why he is here.
But he doesn’t need to talk, Eris does the job for him. “Or, are you on one of your little spying missions, spymaster?” Eris raises a taunting brow, nothing but haughtiness on his face.
Fog accompanies the moonlight on the lake, shadowy tendrils floating over the still water like dancing to a silent melody.
“I‘m only doing my job,” Azriel seethes and for a split second his gaze drops to Eris‘ lips.
Eris‘ eyes are hooded, following Azriel’s and a smirk appears on his lips. “You are thinking about it? This time at least give me a warning before you k—”
Azriel shoves at his chest, pushing Eris an inch backward. “Don‘t talk about it!” he snarls and since the heir to the Autumn Court annoys him greatly and makes his blood boil, he adds, “I’m here because we can’t trust you.”
That hurts. It really does. The pang of pain shooting into his heart makes Eris stagger another step backward. He has thought he has earned their trust, that he could rely on the Night Court and vice versa. But he was wrong. They are not allies yet, if they don’t trust. But will they ever trust him?
“And what do I have to do to earn your trust?” Eris moves closer again. So close the warmth of his body brushes Azriel’s and the spymaster involuntarily shudders.
“No longer be loyal to Beron.” Azriel has no better answer. This is all twisted and idiotic. He had come up with the idea of distrust. A false pretence. It isn’t the reason he is here, but he doesn’t know what is and he didn’t know what to tell Eris.
“Do you truly think I still support Beron?” Eris spits, voice dripping with disappointment and disdain. “You know what my plan is?”
“You haven’t followed through on it yet.” Azriel swallows thickly, the last few raindrops that land upon his skin feeling much heavier, the air despite being fresh much thicker. Tension is so thick, one could cut it with a knife.
“That doesn’t mean I‘m still loyal to him.”
Azriel says nothing, face veiled in cool indifference, not even his eyes give anything about the way he feels away. A mask he has perfected – that of casual nonchalance. One that Eris knows all too well.
“After everything he has done to my family, to me, do you really think—”
“What did he do to you?” Honest curiosity and also a hint of concern fills the shadowsinger‘s voice, his question coming so fast it interrupts Eris. All of a sudden, the spymaster’s chest feels so hollow.
Eris holds Azriel’s gaze, neither of them daring to look away. Or is it impossible for them to tear their gaze away from the other?
Whatever it is, their gazes stay locked, amd something blooms within their chests, making their hearts beat faster and their souls come—
But Eris doesn’t answer. He ignores the question. He can’t answer this right now. He can’t talk about it. Not with Azriel. Not with anyone. No one should ever know the details of how Beron treats him.
“I see you found my brothers‘ graves.” Not a question, but an observation. And a statement that should lead their conversation into a new direction.
Eris extends his hand, pointing at the weathered grave stones.
It almost seems as if Azriel’s shadows stretch out when the Autumn Court heir moves past him. Almost like they want to reach for him. Brush over his skin, bring Eris to Azriel. But Azriel keeps them close to him, his demand crystal clear: stay with me!
Azriel says nothing, he only watches how Eris opens his coat and then reaches inside. Azriel braces himself for everything, but he does not expect what is revealed to him.
Flowers. He doesn’t know the name of them. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Eris, who is believed to be cold and cruel, brings flowers to his late brothers‘ grave. And that even after centuries.
The spymaster steps aside, allowing Eris the necessary space, both physically and mentally.
Gently, the heir lays the flowers down on the damp soil and grass and then gets up and for a moment folds his hand over his heart.
“It is strange,” he murmurs. Slowly, he turns to look at the shadowsinger over his shoulder only to find Azriel already looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face.
“How you can loathe and miss someone at the same time.”
Azriel can’t say the same about his own brothers – there is only resentment and pain when he thinks about them.
But there is someone else this description fits perfectly for, Azriel realises. He runs his gaze over Eris, watches the shallow rise and fall of the heir’s chest, how his lips are a little parted, his red hair glowing in the soft moonlight. But Eris turns away and Azriel is left with looking at the heir’s back. A powerful back, he has to admit – broad shoulders, a strong neck, and nothing but corded muscles that are even visible through his coat and the layers of clothes beneath.
“Do you have brothers, Shadowsinger?”
Azriel coughs once, hand held in front of his face. Then he clears his throat, taking a few steps forward, his shoulders the exact same height as Eris’, their bodies nearly touching.
“I do,” he eventually says. “I did.”
Eris‘ brows bunch and he turns to look at Azriel, silently regarding the male next to him for a moment. “Dead?”
“Mhm.” There is nothing nostalgic, not a single note of sadness in Azriel’s tone and it makes Eris wonder what could have happened to Azriel that makes him so nonchalant about his brothers‘ passing.
Azriel wants to provide more information. What they did to him. That he only feels hate in regard to them. But he can’t. Something hinders him from doing so. It would be strange to share your deepest, most haunting memories with your enemy, wouldn’t it?
“They weren’t…good brothers.” Azriel’s gaze moves over the gravestone once again and he wonders where Brack and Sconz are buried.
A cold huff leaves Eris and his gaze drops.
He looks at his polished boots, covered in grass and mud. The flowers atop the grave look beautiful, but everything else around it, lifeless. Sad. Dead.
“Azriel, I need to ask you something.”
A breeze brushes their skin, cooling the already chilly air and their cold bodies.
The tone in Eris‘ voice tells Azriel that his request is sincere, that there is now no room for banter.
“Go ahead.” Azriel keeps his voice low, and now for the first time regret truly fills him, seeping into his heart like poison. He told Eris they don’t trust him, lied about it, while Eris trusts him. Enough to not have called for sentries or warriors to come for him. The heir even arrived unarmed – that is how much trust he has in him. In the Night Court…
“Lucien.” Eris‘ voice is hoarse, breaks a little when he continues. “Do you know if he is…alright?”
“He is,” Azriel answers matter-of-factly. He actually doesn’t know, or rather doesn’t care about the fox‘s wellbeing, but he assumes he is alright.
“Is he happy? Does she make him happy? Could he find a family in her?” The questions pour out of Eris almost like a waterfall. “The High Lady’s sister I mean.”
Azriel once again has no answer. So, he stays calm for a moment. He blows out a breath, its tendrils curling in front of his face before fading into nothingness.
“Do you really care about him?” Azriel asks instead of answering.
He isn’t prepared for what happens next. Eris grips Azriel’s biceps tightly, turning to him, staring into his eyes. “There hasn’t been a single damn day where I haven’t cared about my little brother.”
Azriel holds his gaze. “Did you ever try to—?”
“Find him? Look for him? Find out if he is alright?” Eris tightens his hold on Azriel’s arm. “Many times. For years. Until I figured out it was too dangerous to continue.”
“Because of Tamlin?”
“Because of my damn father!” Eris’ voice drips with resentment, and is so much louder than intended.
His chest squeezes, icy cold breaking out under his skin, spreading like frost through his veins. His stomach dips. And all he can see is how his brothers held Lucien when his father cut off her head. Jesminda. Beautiful. Kind, and adventurous Jesminda. His brother‘s sole joy and happiness.
“Because he would have killed him if he found him again.”
A haze, bitter and thick, forms in Azriel’s mind, the picture of his own father’s face as clear as the water of a mountain stream in his mind. He feels angry, furious, cold and sad. And when all these emotions mingle inside of him, brewing beneath his skin, beneath the scars, he lets it out on Eris.
“And yet still you haven’t managed to kill him. You still sit here and pretend to be the wonderful, diligent son.” The spymaster’s voice is cold, tinged with an emotion Eris can’t quite place.
“What can I do?” Eris shoves forward as well, their foreheads now truly touching. Azriel notices how warm Eris‘ skin is despite the cold outside, but doesn’t allow himself to think further about.
“No longer be his puppet and finally grow some balls. Because it still makes me think that you maybe don’t want to put an end to this. That you like being his puppet – that you enjoy it and the reputation and glory it has earned you.”
Azriel’s breath tingles Eris‘ face. The heir can scent the light hue of spearmint, but he tamps down on all emotions – safe for the anger –, trying to ignore what Azriel’s sudden closeness does to him. To his body.
And Eris isn’t the only one feeling it. Something –some emotion– surges through Azriel, making his skin feel taut, hot. His lips are so close to Eris’. Only mere inches–
“You have no idea what it is like to have a father like Beron.” Eris is fuming, and burning with pain.
“I know more than you think,” Azriel seethes.
“Oh?” Eris raises a taunting brow. “Did your father see you for the bastard and asshole you are and got rid of you when you were still in your diapers?”
Eris is furious. Both at the confusing emotions inside of him and Azriel‘s rash accusation. He hasn’t meant for his words to come out like this or at least phrase them differently. But what is said is said and he can’t take back the words that cut deep into Azriel’s already wounded heart.
Azriel shoves against Eris‘ solid chest, pushing him away. “My father is none of your fucking business.”
Eris staggers backward, but there is a smug look on his face, eyes trailing over Azriel’s irate expression.
“Oh, so I was right?” he drawls, “seems like you have some issues with your own father, so don’t tell me how I should handle the situation with mine.”
There is nothing but arrogance is his swagger as he nears Azriel again and through gritted teeth he says, “Don‘t you fucking dare interfere with my life and how I do things. I know what I am doing. And I need the Night Court as an ally but what I don’t need is a fucking shadowsinger smartass to tell me how to manage my things.”
Azriel’s nostrils flare, Eris words hurting him more than they have ever done before…before…the incident with Briallyn. Before Eris’ time at the Night Court.
“I hate you so much!” Azriel‘s throat bobs as he swallows, eyes burning.
Eris chuckles coolly. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” Azriel seethes, teeth barred. “I fucking hate you, Eris Vanserra.”
Eris raises a brow, almost in a reproachful way.
“Why did you kiss me then?”
He sees the hand coming for him, but it is too late – Azriel‘s fist connects with his jaw and a loud crack sounds. Icy heat breaks out on the left side of his face, a metallic taste filling his mouth.
Somehow, Eris thinks, he deserves it. What he said…it reminds him…of the words his father uses. The words weren’t his own, they were borne from anger, from irritation (Azriel is extremely irritating to him) and from his own desperation.
Azriel voiced exactly what he has been thinking so often - what if he fails? What if he in the end can’t do it. What if he forever stays his father’s puppet.
Eris spits onto the in leaves and pebbles covered ground, saliva and blood now coating the surface. “Leave!” he snarls and it startles Azriel.
The shadowsinger has thought something would follow his punch. That Eris would hit him too. Would want to hurt him too.
He would deserve it. For what he said. But it is Eris‘ fault. Or isn’t it?
Both have said cruel things this evening, both have made mistakes.
And still Eris does nothing. He doesn’t punch back. He remains calm, unmoving.
“Leave, Azriel! Get out of my sight.”
The shadowsinger flares his wings, taking one step backward after the other. His wings start to flap, feet slowly leaving the ground.
A chill runs over the landscape, Eris‘ eyes burning holes into Azriel’s body and for a split second the spymaster thinks he can spot tears in them.
When he is almost gone, when he is almost a whisper between the stars, nothing more than a shadow on the horizon, Azriel opens his mouth and says, “I don’t know why I kissed you, Eris, but I know it was the biggest mistake in my life.”
tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit
general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mama’s Boy
my first writing on this account!! im actually pretty proud of this, despite the fact that i wrote it on my phone in probably 2 hrs lol.
TW for mentions of alcoholism and guns
König’s mother taught him to shoot. Before he even thought of joining the military, back when he was simply Edie’s boy- “the tall one, not the blond,”- from down the street. No one in the small town of Heugraben bothered with his all-too-common name. There were probably three Lukases from down the street, and he had yet to think of using his middle name, so Edith’s boy he became.
Edith was a small, stocky woman, with dark hair that had begun to gray at the roots. Her calloused hands guided König’s fingers to wrap around the trigger of the BB gun he had received for his twelfth birthday. He had been asking for one- his father would take him on hunting trips when he was sober enough to care, and König, young, naïve König, still held out hope that the man would return one day. He wanted to be able to impress his father with his marksmanship.
Edith had finally relented, and after a lengthy safety lecture that König barely paid attention to in his vibrating excitement, Edith set up some of Cristoph’s old practice targets in their vast backyard.
“Your hands are shaking, little prince,” she chastised, and reached out to steady him.
“Sorry, Mama.”
“No need for that,” Edith scoffed. She maneuvered König’s arms to the proper position and flicked the safety off. “Hold it up so the butt is against your shoulder,” Edith said. König received an admonishing flick to the back of the head when he giggled at her phrasing.
“Ow!” König turned to his mother with a pout. “If you keep flicking me like that, I’ll have a hole in my head!”
“Hm, maybe if you did I could finally dig around in there and get the cobwebs out,” Edith knocked on the crown of König’s head with her knuckles. He grumbled under his breath and Edith chuckled. “Alright, enough of that. Hold the end of the gun against your shoulder.” König did so, and Edith nodded. “Now look down the barrel of it. See the bump at the end? That’s the sight. That’s how you aim.”
König squeezed his left eye shut and pointed the sight at the target. His vision was a little blurry up this close, but he didn’t mention it.
“Now what?” He asked quietly.
“Now you line up the shot, and shoot.”
König tightened his grip on the gun, aimed, and hesitantly pulled the trigger. The sound startled him a bit and he stumbled back into his mother’s chest.
“Good job, Lukas!” Edith planted a kiss on top of König’s head (though she had to pull him down by the shoulders to do so) and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look- you hit it.”
König looked, and sure enough, he hit the target. Not a bullseye, but he hit it. A grin spread across his face, all crooked teeth and chubby cheeks, and he turned around to his mother.
“Papa’s gonna be so surprised when he comes back- he’ll finally let me help him on his hunting trips!”
Edith’s smile pinched and she took in a deep sigh. “Of course he will, my little prince.” She patted König’s shoulder and tried not to let her smile waver, lest she ruin König’s hope.
His brothers were older- they knew Cristoph wouldn’t come back. König, sweet, shy, wide-eyed and cherub-cheeked, in all his childlike innocence, couldn’t possibly imagine such a thing.
But of course, Papa never came back, as papas tend to do. Edith’s graying roots became salt-and-pepper, and the bags under her eyes deepened. König grew into his body, shooting up like a beanstalk even more than he had already, and by seventeen he had reached a mammoth six feet nine inches.
He had finally realized that being Lukas G. was frustrating, so suddenly, he was König. His middle name was fitting, as he certainly looked the part of a king- a towering, broad boy, with a crown of red hair, courtesy of Cristoph’s genes. His baby fat had mostly sloughed off, replaced by muscle, but his Oma still pinched his chubby cheeks as he said his goodbyes. He leaned down, nearly doubling over, so she could kiss him on the forehead.
“Stay safe, little prince,” she said with a smile.
“I will. I promise,” König shouldered his duffel bag and turned to his mother.
“Don’t go growing up on me while you’re gone,” Edith choked out through tears, “Come back for Hanukkah. And call, or write- I need to hear from you, okay?”
“I know, Mama. I will, I promise. I promise.” König hugged his mother as tightly as he dared. “I love you,” he said, face pressed against her hair.
“I love you too. So, so much,” she sighed, “now go.” Edith pulled away and shooed König off, into the military truck where his future laid.
#robin writes#fanfiction#fanfic#cod mw2#cod#call of duty#cod fanfic#call of duty fanfic#könig#konig#konig cod#könig cod#konig fanfiction#konig fanfic#cw alcoholism mention#cw alcoholism#cw guns#writing
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have severe Giant Malleus brainrot so I’m gonna write about him!
~💚~💚~
It’s quiet outside. The stars hung above Ramshackle dorm like twinkling string lights. The air was steady with a gentle breeze.
You sat on the roof of your dorm and took a deep breath. It’s a still silence in your mind as you look up.
“Child of Man…”
You snap out of your tranquility in an instant. You can feel an overwhelming presence from behind. You slowly turn around to see a gigantic figure towering several stories above you. Black horns glisten in the moonlight atop this figure’s head. Emerald, jewel green eyes shimmer like forbidden gems.
“Tsunotaro…” you quietly whisper. A faint rumbling comes from beneath you as the giant fae bends down to make eye contact with you. “You know someone will see you, right?”
Malleus nods his head, the movement ever so slightly shifting the building beneath your feet. He exhales a breath, blowing past you. It smells of fire and ashes.
“I came to see you… Diasomnia has become rather tiring to manage. Especially with Sebek running around and yelling at the students,” Malleus responds. His voice is deep and rumbling like an earthquake. It is a voice that should instill fear into your heart, but you do not flinch. He’s not here to do you any harm.
“Well, now that your here, was there anything in particular you came to tell me?” You asked.
“No…” Malleus stated. “I simply came to get away from it all.”
You turned away from him and glanced up at the stars. Their shine brings a twinge of pain to your heart.
“Tsunotaro? Can I ask you something?” You say.
The giant dragon fae tilts his head. “What is it, Child of Man?”
“Will you be sad when I find a way to get back to my world?”
Malleus shifts, his movement causing the ground to vibrate. “Perhaps I will. I don’t know for sure.”
You turned around. His lips said one thing, but his face read another. He was pouting, his eyes narrowed on a nearby tree.
“You will, won’t you?”
Malleus clenches a fist and shoots a blast of glowing fire at a tree. Clearly, he’s upset at that prospect.
“Hey, there’s no need to be sad,” you say, getting up. “I’ll always remember you.”
“But you won’t be here with me,” Malleus replied. “I want you here in Twisted Wonderland with me. If you leave, then I have no one. I will forever be alone.”
You frowned at this remark.
“If you remember me, then… you’ll never be alone. I’ll keep you in my heart. Always and forever.”
Malleus extends a hand and picks you up. He then stands up to his towering height. At this level, you’re no bigger than half the size of his thumb. The fae towers over you like a building.
Yet these hands will never hurt you. They will never crush you, never pinch you, never squeeze you. They are hands that calm and soothe you.
The gigantic prince draws you close to his chest, and slowly, for a moment, his façade lowers. You lean into his warmth and smile at him.
“You will always have me in your memories, you say? Then I shall keep you in mine. You are my dearest friend ever. I love you… please… you can’t leave me…”
You stopped and looked down at the ground, which was dozens of feet away from you.
Maybe… staying in Twisted Wonderland wouldn’t be so bad.
144 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello dear Benny! I’ve been following your work for a long time, and I want to say that I’m inspired by you! I really like your works and I’m looking forward to new ones! If it’s not difficult for you, I’d like to see headcanons from you with Solomon, and M!Y/N who is the master for making magic weapons! If you don’t like this order, you don’t have to do it, I won’t be offended! **this is my first request, I’m very embarrassed.**
Solomon - Magic Blacksmith Male Reader
🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.
0rder up! 🌾Wheat anon, you have no Idea how hard it was for me not to just skip straight to this ask because I absolutely loved the idea you gave! I hope these are up to your standards. Also sorry it took so long. —Benny🐰
🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌
⚒ To say Solomon thought of you as nothing special at first glance would be a bit of an understatement. He truly thought you were just some poor sap that the prince of the devildom scooped up from the realm of humanity. However, he was quickly proven wrong when sensed a peculiar magic within you that he had never encountered before. Consider Solomon's interest peaked.~
⚒ Though he lives in a different building and has different classes, Solomon made it a point to corner you in the hallways of RAD more than a few times to get to the bottom of your curious magical signature. But no matter how hard he pressed or how many conversational traps he set you wouldn't budge; keeping your cards tightly to his chest. It seems that you took Lucifer's warnings very seriously.
⚒ And so the centuries-old wizard and king reluctantly let his curiosity take a back seat as he got to know you better. Met you on the way to and from RAD so the two of you could walk together, walk you to your class, have lunch with you, and offer to study with you; all the while he was drumming up conversations about your day, your likes and dislikes, morals, ambitions, etc.
⚒ Soon enough he came to develop feelings for you, though it seemed to come out of the blue in his perspective. He confessed his love for you in his usual teasing dialogue and thankfully you accepted. And well, Solomon has himself yet another boyfriend to add to the already miles-long list of lovers. It seems though, that your newly romantic relationship has loosened your lips a bit so to speak; so Solomon shoots his shot, and boy do you deliver.
⚒ A blacksmith that specializes in enchanted and magical weaponry? How intriguing. Would you be at all willing to show him a few of your works? Or perhaps you could let him see you in action? Please excuse him, Solomon is just excited is all. He's never seen magic be applied quite like this before and he wants to know all about it. Though, the ancient wizard will talk your ears off with all kinds of questions; he won't let you go until they're answered.
⚒ If you do allow him to see you in action he'll be over the moon. Watching you combine magic with iron and steel as you slave away over your anvil fills him with absolute wonder. If you're up for it, Solomon will commission you to take home a special weapon. Nothing specific, he'll give you full creative freedom and reign over decision-making; as long as it's from you he's satisfied.
⚒ Truly, Solomon often wonders how he found himself a boyfriend as talented as yourself and what he did to deserve you.
🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌•♡•🌌
🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.
Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!
#male reader#hunn1e bunn1e's ask box#answered asks#ask box#answered#answered anon#om#om solomon#om x reader#om x male reader#obey me#obey me solomon#obey me x reader#obey me x male reader#solomon x reader#solomon x male reader#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me! one master to rule them all!#🌾wheat anon
123 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
leydileyla
service transactional
milwaukeerep
Milwaukee Rep on Tumblr
paskommeeux
ONLY BOYS
2019bayangiyimmodasi-blog
Moda ve Kadın