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deadghosy · 23 days

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How they would react to teen sinner! Reader getting catcalled/ S/A:

WARNING: long depending on your reading speed, explicit language, uncomfortable themes, read if you don’t wanna read anything you have encountered in life like this. If you are dealing with s/a please call your national hotline. This will be the only time I write something like this cause this is a serious topic.

LUCIFER

It was late in the pride ring as you snuck out of the hotel wanting to get snacks and a drink. I mean shit you died in the late 2010’s, you’re use to this shit. So you went to a store as you didn’t see an older sinner smirk, slowly gazing your body up and down as you grab a pair of chips and energy soda.

“Hey sweetie…” the older sinner says as he slowly appears behind you. You divest even bother to look at him as you felt him get closer. You whipped around and glare at him only to see such an ugly sinner who looks homeless as well.

“Hey now, I’m not gonna harm you.” The man says grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him. “I just wanna see your pretty face little boy/girl.” Your eyes widened shocked. You tried to pull your arm as he tugs tighter. You yelled for him to let you go as he dragged you out the store. You were not gonna let some creep take you! So you bit his arm hard as fuck. He let you go, but not without punching you.

You ate the punch but start to run to the hotel you know and love. You ran as your heart beat for safety and away from anything else. You didn’t think it would be like this, but what could you except. This is hell itself. There’s a lot of ass holes and bastards that deserve to be here.

You ran inside ignoring the look of a certain king who was sitting down in the lounge room, he swore he saw tears fall down your cheeks. He felt his heart ache to know what was wrong with you as he slowly followed after you.

A soft knock was heard as you look up to see the king of hell, the man who always gave you ducks when you first came here. “Kid are you okay? I heard you cry?” He said worried seeing you tear up hearing his worried voice. It wasn’t making it better as you ran into his arms. He was move back a bit at your usually tough attire cracking into a soft and scared one. Now he was concerned.

He set you back in bed as you rant out about what happened, even giving a description of what he looked like. After a bit of comfort in for Lucifer and him petting your back a lot. You sniffled a little, feeling better than what you felt as Lucifer smiled at you sleeping against his lap. He sighs sensing you sleeping as he poofs away from your sleeping body.

“DONT worry kid…that bastard isn’t going to see another hellish day…” Lucifer says walking out of the hotel as his hat overcasted his face.

It was a new day as you woke up to play your regular tv show only for the news to play. “BREAKING 666 NEWS!!! ALLEGED PEDOPHILE DEAD AT GRIMM’S MARKET AS HIS HEAD WAS-” the news was cut off by Lucifer who had a guilty expression as you had a wide eye expression shocked that the bastard got some quick karma.

ALASTOR

You and alastor went on a walk together as he wanted you to get off your pesky small picture rectangle. He’s talking about your damn phone.💀

“And I told the fellow gentleman to make my meat, medium rar-” before Alastor could finish his story about how he went to a restaurant. You groaned tired of this, you wanted to sleep and be on your hell phone since you miss the human world.

Alastor rolls his eyes with a smile, he pinches your cheek making you huff. “No need for an attitude!~” he said in a song tune voice you pushed him away from you embarrassed. “I don’t need to fix my attitude old man..” you say walking a bit forward ahead of the deer demon.

The radio demon chuckles, but the chuckles stops when seeing you immediately get whistled at by a male sinner who eyes you. You flipped the sinner off before going back to Alastor, holding the older’s hand as he slightly move in front of you.

It seemed like this asshole was trying to talk to you, but he couldn’t as alastor smiles down at the sinner. “C'mere sweet thing. Why don’t you come and get a drink with me.” The sinner says. You and Al narrow your eyes at the sinner, you weren’t budging from behind alastor who stands strong and confident

“I don’t think they will be going with you anytime soon my dear fellow.” Alastor says with a strained smile. The sinner was definitely new and didn’t know who was companying you at this very moment.

“I don’t think I give a fuck.” The sinner says teaching his hand out to your frame.

The sinner tried to make an attempt to grab your arm from the radio demon. There was a ring of static in the air whilst making the sinner stop grabbing your arm. Alastor grabs the arm that dares to try and take you from him. Alastor smiles eerily at the sinner.

“I’ll teach you some respect you filthy pest.” He says as static seems to boom the area before he goes full demon mode and drag the filth to the alley to have a nice “talk.”

Their screams were broadcasted on his radio station the day after they whistled at you. Alastor made sure to have his shadow follow you for a few months before he was sure you were fully okay. Harassment towards a minor, is a big no-no.

VAGGIE

You wanted to help her get more flowers for a decoration of a trust exercise, so she let you run the errand.

You ran out the hotel happy and excited. You always weee excited to help the hotel ever since you died. You knew your mom was in heaven so you wanted to be redeemed quickly and possible.

You went to the flower shop smiling which gained the attention of a female who smile sweetly at you. She approached you holding a flower. You knew not to take things from strangers, even demons as Charlie and vaggie told you.

But it’s a flower, what’s the worse that can happen. Plus you need flowers for the event itself. As you grabbed the flower, the flower sprays out this gas that made you feel slight drowsy. You feel your body limp as the woman comes closer to you.

You try to push her off as she caresses your body. With your mustered up strength, you use your sharp nails/claws to stab her eyes and run.

The flower drug was slowly taking affect until you did a few symbols on yourself. You learnt it from Lucifer as he gave you a book. The drug wore off but your mind was scrambling. You felt yucky and violated. As you bursted through the hotel door, accidentally running into vaggie’s arms.

“What the fuck happened!!?” Vaggie says concerned as she sees the bruises on your wrist. Her eyes widen. “What. Happened..” she says seriously.

You explained the situation while sobbing softly. Vaggie comforted you in her hold as she closed her eyes ashamed at how she wasn’t there to protect you. She was suppose to your guarden. Your parental figure.

Vaggie takes you upstairs, run you a bath and just watched you softly. Guilt in her eyes for not being a good parent to you and just follow you to make sure you were okay.

The whole night, she stayed close to you. Not even dropping her guard when it comes to you. You are too precious to go through this. She just hopes you can recover.

She’s not letting you out of her sight ever again. Hell she might teach you how to fight , but might go overprotective on you and keep you in the hotel until she and you were sure to go outside again.

CHARLIE

It was during a trust exercise with one of the new residents…

It was a trust fall activity as Charlie shows the residents how it goes. You say what you have in your mind and do the trust fall. After Charlie does it with vaggie. It was your turn and the sinner’s.

The sinner looked calm and you were anxious as you never done the trust fall game. Even in the human world.

As you stood on the stand talking to every member of this exercise and Charlie. She gives you a thumbs up which made you smile and gain confidence in talking. You fell backwards into the sinner’s hold as they caught you.

But they didn’t let you go. You tried to tell them but they didn’t let go still. You felt their hand travel around you and gr0pe your lower and waist. Your eyes widen as you try to move away from the bastard.

Tears were in your eyes as you hyperventilate at how you feel their touch. It burns, it feels like lit burns. Charlie notices what is going on. She gets up and pulls the bastard from you. She pushes you behind her as she looks behind her to see if you were okay. Whilst she does that, she glares heavily at the sinner.

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN TOUCH THEM LIKE THAT?!” Charlie yells as her demon form was slipping out of anger seeing you run towards her. Hell was going loose as the sinner tried to back away from the raging aura Charlie was releasing.

Before Charlie can send hell fire at the bastard who dares to gr0pe you, you grabbed her arm. You know she isn’t really the type to kill someone and might regret it. So while you grabbed her arm, she calmed down and stared at you. Her yellow pupils going back to red as she glares at the sinner.

“Your stay isn’t welcome here..” Charlie says lastly as alastor takes the sinner away, probably to kill them and eat em.

Charlie takes you up stairs as you grip onto her arm. Her gaze on you soften with protectiveness and worry. She can’t believe that happened to you.

She checks on you everyday and has to mane sure you are with a resident before leaving the hotel. She feels guilty knowing she wasn’t there to protect you. Charlie must definitely hands razzle and dazzle to you if you are going out or going to sleep.

HUSK

A drunk resident had walked into your room as you were busy doing art work.

It was a night that you were relaxing in your room just drawing. You always had a passion to draw, maybe even to be an artist.

Your father figure was down stairs tending the bar. Husk was giving drinks to a resident, husk could tell that the drunk bastard has enough. He told the bum to go upstairs as he had enough beers.

Husk watches the person go upstairs, stumbling and staggering. The cat demon rolls his eyes as he hears a door close, assuming the sinner went to their designated room.

You were so busy listening to music you didn’t notice someone enter your room. As you put down your pencil, going for a crayon. You noticed a resident you would see at the bar. Your eyes widen smelling the strong alcohol from their body as they walked closely to you.

A curling scream came from your room making husk immediately drop the glass he was cleaning. He rushes upstairs to see the problem and why you screamed. He sees you being pinned down by the sinner he was tending to earlier.

“GET THE FUCK OF THEM!” Husk yells, eyes filled of anger. All he saw was red as he pulls the bastard off you and starts to beat the person up repeatedly. Their face was bloodied as heavy breathing came out of their face. You stopped husk as you had already been traumatized. Husk stops, breathing heavy before he kicks the bastard all the way down stairs.

You sometimes still relive through that moment as husk stays beside your bed. Husk would have to calm your down from your panic attacks from that night as you lash out at your own “father”

“Kid. Kid! Calm down…it’s okay. I’m here for you..fuck. I’m here for you.” Husk says calmingly while you try to get out of his hold. Still in panic mode. He had to hold you tightly for you to understand that you were now safe.

Hot tears fall to your cheek as you sob painfully at what you just experienced. Your tears made husk’s heart break and shatter. He was just glad you were okay in your room for now.

He holds you to his chest as his fur called you down even more. You sniffled holding him tight as if he would disappear if you let him go.

He felt your heartbeat go slow as you fall asleep in his hold. He stays close to you the whole night as he promises that he will always protect you. You are like his own child since you came to the is shit hole.

He lets you stay by him in the bar as you fall asleep. He grumbles a lot remembering that night as he almost broke a glass in his hand. You are only a kid…

ANGEL DUST

You were sent to find angel dust, only to see him in a bar drunk. So what did you do? Try and drag him out only to drag into trouble

You went into the bar to see Angel drunk, he was also talking to some demons who smirked at his drunken state.

You scoffed going over to grab Angel dust. As you went to grab him, one of the demons made you sit on his lap as if you were ready to meet Santa Claus. But you weren’t as you headbutt the demon and grab Angel dust.

The rest of the demons pull out knives and gun. Your eyes widen as you rushed pout the bar door, sensing the demons on your tail.

You throw a beer bottle at one of the members, the shards went in their eyes. Even if it was a small trick, the screams distracted those asshole as you make a run for the hotel.

You gently laid angel dust in his bed as his eyes tears up, realizing the situation and what could’ve happened if you didn’t take advice from Vaggie about combat.

“Shit…I’m sorry for getting you in this shit.” Angel dust says as he looks away with a drunk shamed look. You sighed, you’re just a kid looking after a drunk adult.

Angel sobered up a bit after you left him in his room. His memory fuzzy, but it was clear that you were uncomfortable with those damn demons that were eyeing you. Even if you got pulled into someone’s lap, that made him disgusted.

He promised you when you first came here that he would protect you. You was like a little sibling to him. He couldn’t believe how he was a drunk asshole who couldn’t even protect someone he cared about most.

Angel was actually sober for months after that encounter. Worried you would run into those demons he was with that night. He would also make you more like force you to watch fat nuggets while he is at work.

He would probably make a deal with Valentino or probably mostly alastor to make sure you were safe since that day.

SIR PENTIOUS

You were trying to find Frank, one of the egg boiz in the pride ring only to run into trouble.

You found Frank being ganged by some sinner who looked from the modern era you are from. You looked around for something, and you found an old computer. Mustering up your strength, you threw that bitch at their head.

Frank runs to you, holding your leg tightly. He was happy to see you were okay with him. You and the egg right here was like family as you smile at how cute he was happy to see you. Pentious would be happy to see Frank is in good condition

You left the alley way and start to chat with the egg boy by your side. It was have been obvious that you were being watched as a female sinner stared at you and your body. You felt the gaze and scoff making Frank raise a brow until seeing the sinner. The sinner seemed scary for poor Frank.

A whistle was made towards you, you flipped them off as you picked up the poor egg who was trembling. He obviously was trying to seem strong for you but it fails as he holds tightly to you. The sinner lady smirks as she follows you. You felt more uncomfortable with Frank as Frank was trying to warn you that she was gaining speed for you. But you already knew.

You made a circle with your hand, a portal opened and it closed immediately when you entered it. The portal sent you to the hotel in one piece with the adorable egg boy.

Your face was stoic with some disgust in your eyes. Eyebrows furrowed on your face as you entered Pentious’s room with Frank.

“Ssssweetheart? What happened? Whatssss wrong?” Pentious says as he notices your disgusted look. "Nothing nothing. Here you go penny." You said brushing off the feeling on your shoulders. But it still noticeable in your body language.

Before you could walk out of the room after putting Frank down. Frank just had to open his eggy mouth. The egg confessed that you were catcalled and almost followed to the hotel until you did your powers you have conquered in hell.

“Why that behavior is not acceptable to a minor!! That bunch of filth shall learn to never mess with my dear friend.” Pentious says as he forces out of his room so you can get a fresh start on a new days and this time he is making baby gates for his eggs so they will not bother you anymore

He was planning all night to see what he can use as a revenge for the cat calling you had experienced. Frank was also giving sir Pentious ideas also. It seemed they both agreed on one plan to have your get back.

He used his machine weapons to destroy that monster who catcalled. He was definitely making sure the laser was fast so he can come back to you and make you cookies so you could feel better. For the rest of the week and probably month.

CHERRI BOMB

You wanted to grab a snack out for Cherri and you. You left the hotel as she started to stay, as you left you didn’t notice of couple of shark demons. The leader smirked flicking a cigarette from his mouth eyeing you. They whistled at you making you scoff and keep walking.

The leader nods his head at you as the sharks move towards you snickering. You felt their presence, luckily you brought your…damnit you left your pepper spray.

The leader grabs you trying to pull you into an alley as your eyes widen. In a heap of panic you screamed for help, that only made it worst. Next thing you felt was a slap to your cheek as you sobbed.

The leader and the members chuckle grabbing your hair. With one final effort your screamed, but it wasn’t an ordinary scream. It was a sonic one that blew them away (a/n: sorry if it sounded corny😕) With that you left in a hurry inside of the hotel. Tears running down your eyes, you ran upstairs passing Cherri who looked shocked to see you run pat her like nothing.

“Sweetie?” Cherri says softly, her Australian accent showing her absolute worry for you as she followed you into your room. She sees your face in your pillow. Softly sobbing, scared as your adrenaline was still high. She sat next to you softly holding you in her arms hoping you would open up. And you did after calming down.

After explaining what happened with a tired and broken voice, you couldn’t believe that this would happenu to you. You felt kinda yucky being touched but you felt safe with Cherri.

“What a fuckin' asshole. I bet his dick is small…don’t worry honey.” She says caressing your back as you sniffled before falling asleep.

In the aftermath, she blowed up their house in honor for you.🔥💗 no witnesses either.

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!

Remember that my requests are closed, so please if you are new to my blog check out my other work as I am currently working on other requests‼️ THAT ARE IN MY DRAFTS, not the ones people are asking me. So please don’t DM me and respect that please.

And mostly, please seek help if you are going through any abuse or assault related issues. Everyone needs to speak up in their own experiences. ❤️

942 notes · View notes

hazbinwhoree · 2 months

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Hiya ! Let me tell you first that I love your writings about Adam ! Our angel deserves some attention

I couldn't help but notice that there is a lack of hurt/comfort Adam fics 😠

Sooo I've been thinking (read this with Charlie's voice from the pilot) what about an Adam x reader arranged marriage fic ?

Like Adam is given a new wife from Heaven, he treats her really badly at the beginning but then kinda develops a soft spot for her ? Ending with the fluffiest softest smut you can make ?

Do we have a deal ? 😈

I Wanna Be Yours

Adam supposed he should be grateful, he wasn’t alone anymore, but Lilith and Eve had fucked him up so badly that he wanted nothing to do with his third wife. If he got too close, he’d fall in love, and then she’d leave him. So Adam did the opposite of getting close. He got mean.

(Name) was born yesterday. Created by God to be Adam’s third companion. She was born with pertinent information already in her brain, memories, and free will. Free will, and she still wanted nothing more than to be Adam’s wife.

He was so lonely, but he’d never admit it.

At first, Adam was just cold to her. But when that didn’t deter (Name) from trying to get close to him, he grew mean.

“I don’t want you, bitch!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Piss off, I hate looking at you.”

It started wearing (Name) down. It hurt, he hurt her, constantly. She was growing to dislike him. She wished she could hate him, but she just couldn’t. It didn’t help that they lived together, though Adam had banished her to the guest room, not willing to share his king size bed.

One day, (Name) gave up. She decided she was done being verbally abused as she followed Adam around like a lovesick puppy. So that day, she didn’t follow Adam. She didn’t leave her house. In fact, she didn’t even leave her bed.

To Adam’s dismay, he was disappointed and slightly concerned when (Name) didn’t show up that day. She always followed him around. All day, every day. Adam hadn’t realized how comfortable he got with it.

When he came home that day, he peaked into her bedroom, finding her asleep. His brow furrowed, wondering why she hadn’t followed him today. Adam was going to ask, but (Name) didn’t wake up until morning.

By day four, after three days of cold silence from (Name), and her still not following him, Adam decided to go home early. He got home around noon to catch (Name) off guard, he was never home around noon.

He snuck into the house but didn’t see her anywhere downstairs. He climbed upstairs and peered into (Name)’s bedroom. Once again, that’s where he found her, still in bed.

“Okay, what the fuck,” he asked loudly, barging into her room.

(Name) jumped. When she registered Adam, she scowled. “Don’t scowl at me, bitch,” Adam spat. Something died in (Name)’s eyes and she just looked tired and sad. Adam softened.

“...Sorry.”

That got (Name)’s attention. Adam had never, ever said sorry to her before.

Adam came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” (Name) was appalled. “I’ll fucking tell you what’s wrong.” She sat up.

“I was created for the sole purpose of being your wife so that you would no longer be alone. That is my entire purpose, my whole identity. And you hate me. You’re literally all I have in life and you want nothing to do with me. You weren’t even just cold, you were mean. Nasty. I wish I hated you. But I still love you, and that fucking hurts.”

Adam was quiet for once in his life. He had never really thought about the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t seen (Name) so much as person as he did an annoyance that followed him around. Now here she was, a person. A being with thoughts and feelings. A being he’d been abusing.

He reached a gentle hand towards her and she recoiled. Adam winced. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I really am. I thought… if I got too close, you would leave me like Lilith and Eve did.” (Name) blinked at him. “I know that’s a shitty excuse,” Adam mumbled. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I was a fucking coward, in trying to prevent myself from being lonely I made you lonely.” “You did more than that,” (Name) scoffed.

Adam looked ashamed. “Yeah… I’m so sorry. I want to start over. If… if you want that. I understand if you’re done with me, I definitely deserve it.”

(Name) contemplated for a moment. “We can start over,” (Name) said eventually. “But we start slow. I don’t like or trust you right now.”

Adam nodded eagerly. “That’s fair. (Name)?”

“Yeah?”

“Just start coming with me when I go about my day again.”

(Name) did, and over the next two weeks she would accompany Adam everywhere, not follow, because he kept his stride slow so that she could keep up. He talked to her, asked questions about her, got to know her. She quickly became a soft spot for him. It took a lot to not sabotage it out of fear, but Adam managed.

Two months in, and they’d kindled a relationship so well that they had sexual tension. They had yet to act on it, neither realizing that the other wanted it as much as them.

But this was the longest Adam had gone without sex in a long time, and with his high sex drive, it was incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He burst into her room randomly and announced, “I think I love you and I want to fuck you.”

(Name) put down her phone, wearing nothing but short shorts and a tank top, ready for bed. “I think I love you too, and I would very much like you to fuck me,” (Name) replied after a beat of silence.

Adam wasted no time, coming up to her bedside and picking her up bridal-style. “Adam, what–” “You’ve had your own room long enough. It’s time we share a bed. And what better way to consecrate it?” He smirked.

(Name) smiled, holding onto his neck. When they entered Adam’s room, he gently laid her down on his bed. He was going to take his time with this, he’d waited for so long he was going to savor every second.

He shed his mask, and (Name) gasped. She’d never seen him without his mask before. Adam looked slightly unsure of himself. “Kiss me,” (Name) breathed. Adam stood between her legs and bent over the bed to press his lips to hers sweetly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered when he pulled back. Adam wanted to make a cocky comment, but decided against it for the sake of the moment. He pulled his shirt off, then undid his belt, kicking off his pants. Then he gently pulled (Name)’s tank top over her head, thrilled to finally see her bare rack.

But before he went for her chest, he pulled her shorts down and off. When they were both in their underwear, Adam picked (Name) up and threw her further on the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and on top of her.

He connected their lips while his hands groped her chest. His tongue invaded her mouth and (Name) moaned. Adam kissed down her neck, her chest, until her reached her left tit, and latched on with his mouth. (Name) gasped as he sucked on her nipple, his hand reaching to roll her other nipple between his forefinger and thumb. (Name)’s fingers tangled in Adam’s hair.

He pulled off with a wet pop and moved to the other breast, taking it into his mouth as well. (Name) hummed sounds of affirmation as Adam gave her chest attention, sighing when he pulled back. Adam’s hand slid down her stomach and inbetween her legs and (Name) bit her lip. When Adam’s hand slipped under her panties and his fingers brushed against (Name)’s wet folds, she moaned. “You’re so wet,” Adam said lowly in her ear. “All for me.”

He entered two fingers inside of her, curling them. (Name)’s back arched a little bit. Adam added a third rather quickly, realizing briefly that her body had been made to fit with his perfectly. The thought almost made Adam sentimental.

Because of this fact he didn’t spend long fingering her. He was impatient, and he didn’t have to. She was already ready for him. He pulled her panties down and off before kneeling back to tug his boxers down. He shed those too and pressed their naked bodies together.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing her lips. “I’ll forever be sorry for how I was before. Let me make it up to you~”

(Name) whimpered when she felt his dick pressing at her entrance. Adam grabbed both of her hands in his, pinning them next to her head and intertwining their fingers. “Are you ready?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could wait.

(Name) nodded vigorously. Adam gently pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking into her heat. He groaned, his self-restraint waning. He bottomed out with a heavy sigh. “I love you,” he repeated. “Fuck. You're so tight.”

(Name) couldn’t reply, adjusting to Adam’s size. Once she did, she moved her hips a little bit. “Move,” she begged. Adam didn’t need to be asked twice. He slowly began to roll his hips, thrusting in and out slowly and sensually. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough, so it didn’t last long.

Adam’s hips picked up in pace and intensity. (Name) moaned everytime he drove into her. It was Adam’s new favorite sound. They were in missionary, Adam’s favorite position because he could stare at (Name) while they made love. He could drink in every little expression of pleasure on her pretty face.

(Name) squeezed the life out of Adam’s hands. Adam leaned down to suck love marks onto (Name)’s neck. (Name) threw her head back, giving him easier access while he marked her as his.

When he pulled back, he let go of one of (Name)’s hands, sneaking his now free hand down between them to rub circles around her clit with a slender finger. He relished in the look of pleasure (Name) made, jaw dropping and eyes rolling back. His hips didn’t lose their steady pace until (Name) moaned, “Faster!”

Adam began slamming into her, and with (Name)’s free hand, she clawed at his back. Every thrust hit deep and Adam timed pressure on her clit with every thrust. “Adam,” (Name) gasped. “I’m– nngh~ I’m close.”

“Fuck, me too,” Adam panted. He kept his pace steady, both of their orgasms steadily growing. (Name)’s moans became higher pitched. Adam’s groans grew more frequent.

Eventually, they were on the precipice together, calling out one another’s names as they climaxed. Adam came buried deep inside of her, and (Name) came on his dick. They froze for a moment afterwards, each trying to catch their breath. As they panted, coming down, Adam dropped his forehead against (Name)’s, staring deeply into her eyes. Watching her orgasm had made his euphoric. He kissed her softly, in contrast to the pace they’d just been going at.

“I love you,” (Name) said quietly.

Adam pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to her. “I love you too, (Name).”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty

519 notes · View notes

akystaracer22 · 3 months

Text

Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

#adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fandom #guitarduck #platonic #written by an asexual #fluff #fallen angel adam #fallen angel #wing fic #angst #tw swearing #tw mentions of wing rot #i wrote this #I wrote with on four hours of sleep powered by caffeine and a cold #adamsapple #ashes to ashes dust to dust

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bunny-yan · 3 months

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Hi i was the anon that Requested the p2 of Yan Hero and it got me thinking....

What would happen If The demon Lord Fell in live with Y/n and took her...BUT the Demon actually cares about her and Gives her freedom As Long as she doesn't escape?

Ngl i just wanna Know what tasman's reactiin would be tbh I hope im not Bothering you sorry!

Thx for reading :)))

Also can i be 💋-Anon?

Hi 💋~ Anon! No need to apologize! You aren’t bothering me at all. I think a traumatized darling would be hesitant to jump into the arms of someone else that could potentially repeat the relationship that they’d been so desperate to escape from, but the Demon King is perfect because they would be able to protect you from the hero unparalleled by anyone else in terms of strength and influence. It also feels nice to go to the one person Tasman regards as an enemy. He’d told you over and over again how he was doing this for the greater good and how he needed to protect you from the big bad Demon King, but it’s hard to believe that when the proclaimed villain treats you better and with more respect than he ever did.

TW: threats and descriptions of violence, mentions physical abuse, language, death threats —

He’d taken his eyes off of you for two seconds. Two fucking seconds.

It wasn’t the smartest idea to bring you to an active battle, especially when his enemy had come to meet him, but he didn’t trust you enough with one of the other members in his party after what happened last time. And he especially didn’t trust you to leave you on your own. That left bringing you along, despite knowing how dangerous it was.

It was why he told you to stick close to him. He needed to be able to protect you at a moment’s notice, so you had to remain by his side.

Why did he trust that you would listen?

Walking across a large expanse of land, he felt an imminent threat of danger, only having enough time to grab you and jump out of the way just as a large shadow swallowed the ground in the exact spot his foot would’ve landed.

“Ambush!” one of his teammates yelled, and the situation descended into chaos just that quickly.

Snarls from demon dogs echoed throughout the field as the party fought to fend them off. They were huge, standing taller than some of the trees that were sparsely located, and they were fast. Despite that, dealing with them was easy, when he didn’t have to fight to protect you as well.

Rudy, the party’s tank was struggling to hold back one of the monsters by himself and Annalise, the party’s healer, and Morrigan, the party’s mage, were pinned by two others. Despite their calls for assistance, Tasman brandsihed his sword, eyes narrowing on the Demon King at the head of the attack.

“The others will protect you if something happens. Stay right here and don’t move.” he told you, locking you with a gaze that promised trouble if you were to disobey. The next moment he disappeared, hurtling forward at an inhuman speed to strike the Demon King.

You weren’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned you to fight, but it was never easy and always nervewracking to be left so open, so exposed while death and destruction surrounded you. A part of you was screaming to run away from the danger, but the last time you had, you’d almost died, experiencing a pain that you couldn’t begin to describe when your body was almost ripped apart. If Tasman believed he could trust you to be protected as long as you stayed in this one spot, you would stay.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to witness a battle you were helpless to aid or run away from, but it wasn’t long before your resolve began to wane.

At the sound of a low growl, you peeked, regretting it instantly at the sight of a snarling dog, snout dripping with saliva, looking dead at you.

“T-Tasman.”

The dog took a step towards you, ears pulled back as the growling increased. Your eyes were wide, too afraid to look away from the staring contest as your body began to shake in fear. With another step in your direciton, you felt yourself backing away, only to freeze at the phantom pain that shot through you from the last time you’d moved from the spot he placed you.

“Tasman.” you said louder this time.

Another step had your body tensing painfully. You didn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. You were sure you’d die the last time you were attacked and no matter how advanced Tasman’s healing magic was, it didn’t help you forget the way your body felt as if it was being torn apart.

When it crouched, bunching it’s muscle in preparation to lunge, something snapped. “Tasman!” you screamed, sprinting away despite knowing that you wouldn’t be fast enough to get away. You shouldn’t have trusted his words. His party members would be happy if you disappeared, leaving the chance for one of them to mend his broken heart.

You were fucked from the start.

He’d been lost in the heat of the battle. He could hear you calling his name, but he didn’t have time to cater to your delicate sensibilities. However, he could hear the fear bleeding in your tone and his heart dropped when he finally caught a moment to glance towards you.

Face drowning in fear, you ran as one of the monster’s jumped to attack you.

What the fuck were they doing‽

He turned, desperate to get back to you, but an unknown force sent him hurtling away.

You yelled, silently pleading for the goddess to spare you before something appeared. Bumping into whatever it was, you didn’t question it as an arm wrapped around your waist before the two of you were met with impact.

From your ragged breaths, you knew you were still alive. Your body sagged in relief, tears leaking involuntarily from your eyes. Despite how cross you were that he’d put you in danger in the first place, you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tightly.

“I told you I didn’t want to be here, you asshole.”

After taking a deep breath, you backed away to glare at Tasman before your face went slack in shock.

This… was not Tasman.

Dark pools that lacked irises stared back at you. You, who had just cursed at this inexplicably handsome stranger. You, who still had your arms wrapped around said stranger’s waist.

Ripping away, you backed up quickly to bump into something else. Something soft tickled your neck and you felt queasy at the heavy breath that made your hair stand on end. Looking up, your eyes went wide at the sight of the demon dog and when it loosed a terrifying snarl, you found yourself jumping back into the stranger’s arms.

Unfazed, he placed a hand on your back before staring up at the enormous creature.

“Down.” he said, silky voice holding such authority, the beast whined before obeying his master’s order. Looking at the monster now, he resmembled a scolded puppy begging its owner not to be upset. If the puppy had two sets of eyes, a spiked tail, and was big enough to use trees to play fetch.

You looked back to the handsome stranger when he removed his hands from your waist, grabbing your hands to remove the death grip you had on his cloak. Your face was hot in embarrassment, but you mumbled gratitude for saving your life.

“How peculiar.” The stranger cocked his head to the side. “How has a bonded soul sustained such damage?”

You were going to ask him what he meant, but you were pulled into a sudden embrace. Placing a palm up, your eyes widened as the ground cracked from the force of Tasman’s blow against his shield. When the world settled, the man released you once again to face his attacker.

“Lover, get away from him! He’s dangerous!”

You looked at the man who saved you and from the force of Tasman’s words, instinctively you knew.

This was the Demon King.

But he appeared nothing like what you heard. He didn’t have a foreboding presence that promised death and destruction. You didn’t see ghastly horns or grotesque features. He looked human. Normal, even. Nothing like the stories you’d heard growing up.

“Lover!” Tasman snarled, making you jump as you turned to face him. His eyes were wild with panic as his hands pushed against an invisible force. “Come here.”

You felt something shrivel inside of you at the sound of his voice, fear bleeding in your eyes as you began to slowly make your way towards him. Something was telling you that you were going to get in trouble for being rescued by the Demon King.

Tasman visibly relaxed the closer you got, preparing his strength to blow away the barrier the moment you were near, but when you were almost within grabbing distance a hand caught your wrist, halting your forward movement. It wasn’t aggressive and despite the fact that he easily towered over you, his grip was light enough that you felt you could yank your hand away at a moment’s notice. It was funny that you felt no inclination to.

“Fear for the person claiming such an intimate role?”

You looked in their eyes and it surprised you to see concern. Your mouth opened, but you flinched at Tasman’s sharp “Don’t touch-”

“And was this their doing as well?” the Demon King continued, completely unfazed by the anger that cowed you, brought you to heel, and demanded your obedience. He turned your hand to reveal an angry hand-shaped bruise. It was from this morning. You’d attempted to reason that it wasn’t safe for a normal human being to be in an environment with monsters that, even at the weakest level, could kill you. He brushed off your concern, claiming he’d be able to protect you and when you insisted he lost his patience. Grabbing your wrist, he didn’t temper his strength and you felt it might break as he dragged you from the room and down the stairs. Not healing it as a form of punishment for the nasty look you’d given him. He claimed that you might learn to appreciate him if he took away what little he did offer, even if he was also the cause of every miscolored imperfection.

Your silence was enough.

Looking from the bruise around your wrist to the hand that held yours gently, Tasman grit his teeth as he punched at the barrier in anger before attempting to calm down and switching tactics.

“Lover, you don’t know the things he’s done. The village’s he’s destroyed. He is dangerous. Come to me.” he said holding out his hand. When you didn’t move after a moment, his voice sounded choked with desperation to hold back the force, the anger. “Come to me.”

Releasing your hand, you almost felt disappointed. A part of you felt guilty thinking you would no longer be able to use the Demon King’s grip on you as an excuse for not rushing back to Tasman’s side. Something he would be sure to berate you for when you made it back. You didn’t understand why you were making things harder for yourself. You hated the way that sounded, but if you wanted to keep Tasman his happy, kind self, you did what he said. When you wanted to see some of his non-hero like aspects, you did the opposite. And that was what you were doing now. Delaying the inevitable. You didn’t want to imagine the terrifying expression on his face when this man left you to fend for yourself.

‘I would offer asylum, should you be inclined to accept.’ Your head jerked up in surprise at the sound of the voice in your head. ‘Apologies for intruding on your thoughts, but the scenes you projected were hard to ignore. I do not ask you to trust me, but if you’re willing to take the chance to see that I’m not the monster he claims, all I ask is that you take my hand.’

Lifting his hand, you looked at the enticing offer.

Looking between his hand and you, your gaze focused on whatever the bastard offered, Tasman felt dread and a newfound sense of desperation to get you back. “Lover, don’t. He’ll kill you. He’ll devour your soul and give your body to his underlings to do with as they please. Don’t do this. Don’t-”

You thought about what Tasman said. About how dangerous this person was. If you took his hand there was a chance you were subjecting yourself to a worse fate than what you had with your hero. A chance that he simply wanted the gullible human to follow him back to his domain before he took his time devouring his easy prey.

You thought about him destroying villages and for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty as you thought, So what?

The Demon King destroyed villages. The same villages that Tasman threatened to destroy, to rampage if you didn’t come out from hiding after finally managing to escape. The same villages that turned a blind eye when you were kidnapped from your mundane life. The same villages that were complicit in your imprisonment if it meant they would be protected from the big, bad Demon King. The same Demon King that was offering you a chance to escape from all of this. You could be walking into a trap, but you didn’t care. If he devoured your soul it wouldn’t return to the awful cycle you were stuck in and eaten, it would find peace.

You wanted to laugh at the incredulity of the situation. At the hopelessness that drove you to this point.

Fuck those villages.

From the look in your eyes, Tasman knew what you were going to do. He began banging on the barrier with all his might, summoning every ounce of strength as his face contorted into ugly rage.

“Lover!” he snarled, howling with rage when you placed your hand in the Demon King’s. He pounded the barrier, cracking it bit by bit as he hurled threats to you and the Demon King. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

“Maybe one day, but not today, child. Use this time to reflect on the actions that led to this outcome.” With a hand around your waist, you looked at Tasman, at the rage you never knew he could possess, at the terrifyingly possessive look that had you stepping back into the Demon King.

“I’ll find you, lover.” he said with a terrifying calm. “And when I do-”

You didn’t get a chance to hear what he was going to say. One moment you were on the battlefield, the next you were swallowed by shadows that brought you to the edge of a serene forest.

Releasing you, the Demon King quickly wrapped his arms around again when your legs threatened to give out from underneath you.

“Thank you,” you said, voice trembling with emotion you couldn’t begin to describe. Were you afraid because of Tasman’s threat? Grateful that you would get even a moment away from him? Scared of what the Demon king planned to do to you? There was too much to consider and you didn’t have enough time to process everything that had happened up until this point.

“No need.” he said, surprising you as he cupped your face in his his hands. The warmth from his hands lulled you into a false sense of calm and when he came closer, you panicked. Was he going to kiss you? Was that a requirement to devour your soul‽

Shutting your eyes tight, you assumed something was wrong when he placed his forehead against yours, but after a quick chant and a warm sensation on your forehead, he released you, leaving you reeling in what just happened.

“The mark I’ve bestowed will help the creatures in this territory recognize you as one of us. All I ask is that you do not harm them.”

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say.

You didn’t know what he had planned, but once again you were frozen in shock when a small smile appeared on his face.

“Peculiar human. A kiss would only be the first step.”

Your mouth dropped open, but if he noticed the stupor he placed you in, he didn’t say. Walking forward, he called behind, “Come along. I will show you the room that is meant to be yours and allow you to explore to your single heart’s content.”

Without a word or a sense of hesitation, you followed.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #ask #gn reader #yandere hero #yandere hero x reader

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xerith-42 · 3 months

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Some things we may have forgotten

I've been rewatching MCD and taking extensive notes on it in hopes that I'll never have to watch it again and this is just a list of things that I don't see mentioned or brought up very often/ever that we should talk about and think about more

In the first episode Garroth tries to attack Vylad (angst potential) and Vylad literally just combat locks him by logging out of the game. This is objectively funny and should not be rewritten in any capacity. This should be canon as it is in every universe.

Aphmau's cat Meowki gets randomly killed in Episode 12 by a skeleton while Kiki is right upstairs. Just saying, there's some angst potential there.

In episode 11 Garroth reveals that he knows some medicine. Pretty sure this is never brought up again, but we could always bring it up.

Logan is apparently good with a bow while Zenix is trash at it despite being a self proclaimed "expert archer" which I think is very funny (I know this is part of Zenix's cover but what if we took it seriously it would be so funny)

Zoey is originally from the river village, as is Donna. Pretty sure they retcon that for Zoey, but I like to think the two of them could have been friends before Phoenix Drop.

Garroth actually almost dies in episode 15. Like Dr. Doctor says he will probably die soon at the start of the episode. And he doesn't get healed until episode 20. He literally spends 5 episodes laid up in bed dying.

Brendan's at his side probably angsting the entire time I'm just saying if you want sad gay fanfics, it's sitting right there!

Azura and Garroth were friends as kids??? Hello???? I think this is just a massive plot hole considering what Garroth's actual backstory ends up being asjfgshjdfgjk

Okay but if we twist it a little bit, they were friends as kids as in like at the guard academy??? Bc they're like vaguely teenage/young adult so maybe that's what she means? In which case I wanna think about that more because childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance arcs ever. But is it really childhood friends if you met when you were like... 18?? And you're in your like mid to late twenties probably, I wouldn't really classify that as childhood friends.

WAIT IT GETS WORSE!

I don't... I don't even have a joke here, this is just a massive plot hole. Like all of this is just not true to Garroth's backstory as we know it. Grew up in the same village? You mean O'Khasis?? Where Garroth also FAKED HIS DEATH????

I literally don't know what to say to this I was just trying to find silly little facts to try and incorporate into my rewrite and instead I found a massive gaping plot hole

Moving on, in episode 19 when Aphmau confronts Zenix and they fight, he actually apologizes to her. As if he regrets having to hurt her for the sake of his/the Shadow King's goals.

The Lord of Brightport says the Shadow King "used to be a lord". Which like... Okay, I can bend backwards a few ways to say that he could be referring to how Shad started Falcon Claw, but how the fuck does this dude know that??? I feel like Laurance constantly just stumbling into plot holes by complete accident

Dale is apparently a Garmau shipper, going as far as to ask Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. I like to think that he and Molly have a bet going for how long it takes for one of the two of them to finally fess up.

Raven's mom tried to eat him??

Okay then.

#minecraft diaries #text post #aphblr #aphverse #garroth ro'meave #laurance zvahl #screenshots #silly post #I just think we need to talk about these more #aphmau #mcd zoey #mcd logan #mcd brendan #mcd kiki #my beloved #this post is a mess #most of my posts are though #it's part of the fun

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darlingofvalyria · 7 months

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❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

#dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond angst #aemond dark #hotd smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic

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joshs-big-toe · 4 months

Note

I triple dog dare you to write Josh futterman getting caught jerking off to a pic of y/n!!!!

Heyyy bbg I am SOOOO sorry this took me so long to get to this request, I have been dealing with final exams and tbh mental health? Down the drain lmao. I do have a fic similar to this, so if you want to read that one it is linked HERE!! I am still going to write a similar concept, however, I will change it up a little bit! I hope that you still enjoy it!

cw: smut, male masturbation, female masturbation, fluff

word count: 1,445

Being around Josh Futturman is this strange mix of contradictions that you can't quite wrap your head around. On one hand, he's this total loser, but you can't help but be infatuated with him. It's like he's the king of awkward, yet there's this undeniable charisma that draws you in. And then there's the whole "Biotic Wars" thing – he's legit addicted to that game. You can't help but roll your eyes when he starts rambling about how close he was to beating the game, but there's something oddly cute about his enthusiasm. Lately, though, there's this other layer to your friendship that you can't shake off – a subtle flutter in your chest when he laughs or those lingering looks that neither of you acknowledges. You knew you were far gone when it came to Josh, but you also knew you refused to risk your friendship with him, so you kept silent.

-------------------

Your shift came to a close and you started gathering your things when the buzzing of your phone made you jump. You looked down, seeing Josh’s name on the screen, making you smile. You pick up, greeted by the distant sounds of explosions ad gunfire – the unmistakable sounds of “Biotic Wars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, what are you doing?” There was a tiredness in his voice.

“I just got off of work, I’m about to head home. What’s up with you?” You responded, realizing that it was kind of a stupid question.

“Ah, you know, same old. Just killing these biotics left and right. You should join me sometime.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe someday, but probably not,” he groans in a mocking way. “You wanna hang out today? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, clearly distracted. “You can um – ah fuck you! Sorry, not you, I just died.” He laughed. “You can come to my place, that sound alright?” The frantic clicking of buttons started up in the background, accompanied by gunshots and occasional explosions.

“Yeah your place works,” you remark. “What time?” There was a silence from Josh, leaving the sounds of the game in the background. “Josh?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “How does 6 sound? It gives you a chance to get out of your work clothes and me a chance to go through a few more levels.” Clearly, he was more focused on the game.

“That works, I’ll grab pizza for us. Usual?” He ‘mhmm’s’ in response your question. “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He says a quick goodbye, hanging up quickly after. You sigh, grabbing your bag and keys, making your way to your car to head home.

---------

You looked at your watch, the time reading 5:42. You were typically early. Josh always left his door unlocked whenever he knew you were coming over, so you were able to walk right in. You set your bag and the pizza box on the dining table, looking up the stairs. You couldn’t hear his game playing, however you did hear noises from up the stairs. You walk up the stairs quietly, wanting to sneak up on him. Noticing his door was cracked, you took a peak in. Your breath caught in your through, letting out a soft gasp at what you were greeted with. On his computer monitor, your Instagram was pulled up, a photo of you at the beach on the screen. A heat started pooling in your core with the sight in front of you: Josh was in his gaming chair, jeans around his ankles, quickly stroking his dick. His head was lulled back, eyes half closed and tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. You stayed silent, watching his hand moved up in down in a needy pace, whimpers escaping his throat as he continued. He switched hands, shaking the one he was previously using, making you think he had been at this for a while. You bit your lower lip, your arousal becoming overwhelming. You start to think, there's no harm in touching myself too, right? With that, you quietly sit down on the floor, leaning against his doorframe. You took a look over your shoulder, making sure you did not alert Josh that you were there. You were in the clear. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Carefully, you dip your hand down into your sweatpants, past your underwear and down to your heat. You leaned your head back against the door frame as you grazed your clit, biting on your lip to stifle any noise threatening your lips. Your eyes closed, taking in the whimpers and words coming from Josh as he continued stroking his cock. Your fingers dipped down into your heat, making you sigh. Your mind was completely clouded with the thought of your fingers being replaced by Josh’s, making a heat pool in your lower belly.

“F-fuck, y/n,” you heard Josh whimper out, making you that much closer to your own release. You circled your clit, letting out your own soft moans at this point, unable to contain them with the pleasure you were feeling. You heard Josh’s moans get more erratic as kept going, insinuating that he was close. You sped up your movements, rubbing and fingering your wet heat, finally bringing yourself to your release. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to stifle your moans, leaning your head back against the door frame and screwing your eyes shut. You sit there for a moment, catching your breath before glancing inside Josh’s room, not seeing him on his gaming chair anymore. You stand up on wobbly legs, composing yourself. You knock on his door, pushing it open.

“Hey Josh, I’m here,” you call out with a shaky voice. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. You looked at his computer, your picture no longer up. Josh was standing at his shelf, now wearing sweatpants. He turned to look at you, a smile making its way onto his face. His cheeks were a light flush of red.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful as he made his way over to his bed. You go in, sitting next to you. He leaned in to hug you, you immediately hugging back. He moved his head to where his lips were next to your ear. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice was low and gravely. Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from the hug to look at him. He looked nervous, his face a darker red than before. This honestly probably took a lot of confidence to say, especially for him.

“W-what?” You stutter out.

“You heard me,” he grinned.

“I um, you saw?” He just nodded. “How much?”

“Most of it, watching you is what actually made me,” he paused. “You know,” he looked away, clearly nervous now. You guess his confidence wore off.

“I-I’m sorry if I made things weird I just-” he cut you off, connecting his lips to yours gently. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been into you for years. You just never showed me any signs of anything, so I stayed quiet about it.” You smiled.

“honestly, josh? I have too. I was just scared.”

“You sure didn’t seem scared five minutes ago,” he smirked. You grumbled, flicking the back of his head. “You were also early, you were never supposed to see or know anything.” You shrugged.

“Well, I do now.” He looked down.

“So what now?” He said, joy and curiosity in his voice. You thought for a moment.

“well, theres pizza downstairs-“

“no, not right now, dumbass. In general. Us. What now.”

“oh,” you blushed. “You could be a gentleman and ask me on a real date, you know.” You teased him. He rolled his eyes, hiding the smile that crept onto his face.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” A smile lingered on his lips. You pretend to think for a moment.

“I guess, but lets just eat pizza and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?” He nodded.

“I’ll go get the pizza,” he planted a kiss on your cheek before he left the room. You laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe what just happened, and frankly you were embarrassed. But you’re secrets out now and it feels good, especially knowing that he had feelings for you too. You let your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath, anticipating what may come within this newfound relationship that may be forming.

OMG thank you for being patient with me. I hope this is good, I honestly struggled with this one a lot for some reason, but if you enjoyed it, im glad. Have a beautiful day everyone :)

#josh hutcherson #josh futterman #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman fluff #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark #peeta

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bitterkarella · 4 months

Text

Midnight Pals: 2 Fisted Tales

Stephen King: hey patricia is it true you used to write comics? Patricia Highsmith: [long cigarette drag] Highsmith: who told you that

King: well, i just heard- Highsmith: was it stan lee? Highsmith: musta been stan lee Highsmith: never met a cat who talked so much Highsmith: might as well be a dame with all the yap yap yappin

Dean Koontz: wowwwww did you really meet stan lee, patricia? Highsmith: yeah Koontz: wowwww! what was that like? [flashback] Stan Lee: hey there comics fans its me, stan lee Lee: how bout a date? Highsmith: no dice

Poe: steve King: i just thought she'd like to tell us about her Poe: steve Poe: just no Poe: no King: ok fine Barker: i'm gonna hear the comic story Poe: CLIVE NO

King: ah but patricia i think we'd all like to hear a comics story Patricia Highsmith: i ain't gonna tell no comic story King: well maybe I can't convince you King: but I bet I know someone who can! Alan Moore: [appearing in a flash] who dares summon the arch magus? King: the arch magus! Poe: the arch magus! Koontz: the arch magus!

Moore: speak! what boon ask ye of the arch magus? King: hey alan you've worked in comics King: how about you tell patricia that comics aren't stupid Moore: Moore: i cannot tell her that

Moore: comics are the bane of my existence! a curse upon them! Highsmith: now this guy, this guy i like Highsmith: he's got a real noodle in his noggin Moore: the arch magus would do well to hear your counsel, mortal Highsmith: sure, we could jaw a bit

Highsmith: how you feel about snails, archmagus? Moore: be these your familiars? Highsmith: "familiars" Highsmith: listen to this cat

Highsmith: ok fine you mooks wanna hear about my comics Highsmith: i'll tell ya Highsmith: but only cuz i'm here among bros Highsmith: long as its just dudes Highsmith: cuz these stories Highsmith: they get a little rough Highsmith: and you know how dames are

Highsmith: so this story's just for us dudes Highsmith: so franz Franz Kafka: what? Highsmith: you gotta go Kafka: huh? what? Kafka: why? Highsmith: you just gotta go Kafka: i don't understand Barker: oh my god franz get a clue Poe: clive

Highsmith: submitted for the approval of the midnight pals Highsmith: i call this the tale of the crime puncher Highsmith: it's about this real swole square headed guy who punches criminals Highsmith: pow! punch! bam! Highsmith: that's what comics are all about

Highsmith: so there're these 2 palookas who fight crime Highsmith: named steve and ploopie Barker: i'm sorry what Highsmith: steve and ploopie Barker: steve and WHAT Highsmith: what, you got cabbage in your ears? ploopie Barker: Barker: i'm sorry WHAT

Highsmith: anyway steve and ploopie gotta do some punching Barker: there's a lot of punching in these stories Highsmith: that's what kids want in comics Barker: huh sure yeah Barker: Barker: i'm sorry steve and WHAT Poe: let it go, clive

Highsmith: so this world war i playing ace crashes into a polish swamp Highsmith: when he dies, it creates a big mud monster Highsmith: who goes to america to harass some kid for his model air plane Barker: i'm starting to see why you didn't want to tell these stories Poe: CLIVE

Highsmith: i didn't just do action comics tho Highsmith: i wrote educational ones too Highsmith: like the two-fisted tales of oliver cromwell Highsmith: or don't mess with galileo Highsmith: or catherine the great takes out the trash

King: why didn't you stick with comics, patricia? Patricia Highsmith: eh you know how the comics biz is King: but I've heard its actually a growth industry Highsmith: is that so King: yeah they tell me that there's lots of opportunities in comics for girls Highsmith: ugh pass

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #patricia highsmith #alan moore #franz kafka #stan lee

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dragon-watcher03 · 7 months

Note

If your requests are open can I PLEASE request flirty dialog with Smoke, Scorpion, Reptile, and Sub-Zero where the reader is an assailing sent to murder them 😻

Sure👍

Mk1 men x Assassin! Reader who was sent to kill them

Flirty Intro dialogue

Ft. The Lin Kuei trio and Reptile

Note: thank you for the request mate. I'll be making a list on what fandoms I'll do and what I'll write. Also the reader will be female and have the copying powers like usual.

Scorpion: You've been sent to kill me?

Y/n: Yeah, but I might have to give them their money back.

Scorpion: I'm not surprised a woman such as you is so powerful and deadly.

Y/n: I didn't expect the man I was supposed to kill was so handsome, but here we are

Scorpion: You alight a fire in me that can never be snuffed out.

Y/n: laughs You think flirting is gonna stop me from doing my job?

Y/n: Johnny is making a movie about us?

Scorpion: Apparently our relationship dynamic has caught his eye.

Y/n: How's the name 'little flame' sound?

Scorpion: As long as I can call you 'dearest'.

Y/n: You seem to have no interest in the fact that I was sent to kill you...

Scorpion: When my Assassin is so beautiful, how could I complain?

Sub-zero: It seems like they finally chose a good Assassin to kill me.

Y/n: You've got spunk, I like that.

Sub-zero: If death looked like you, then I would've died a long time ago.

Y/n: I never took you as one to flirt.

Sub-zero: Let's test your kombat abilities, lovely.

Y/n: Oh please, be as rough as you want with me.

Y/n: That cold heart of yours looks easy to crush.

Sub-zero: Yet you decided to melt it instead?

Y/n: So tell me, did I live up to you expectations?

Sub-zero: Oh lovely, you exceeded them.

Y/n: I just love this little game of cat and mouse we have going on.

Sub-zero: The only game I'll ever enjoy, lovely.

Smoke: Why would someone want me dead?

Y/n: Probably because they're jealous of how much I like you.

Smoke: I must be a lucky man if they sent a beautiful woman like you to kill me.

Y/n: It seems like Cage is rubbing off on you.

Smoke: Okay, since when did you start calling me "angel"!?

Y/n: laughs The moment I layed my eyes on you.

Y/n: So... The King of Smoke huh?

Smoke: You heard that?!

Y/n: You wanna go to Madam Bo's after this?

Smoke: Sure! Wait, did you just ask me out?

Y/n: Wow, look at you being all cute and handsome at the same time.

Smoke: I-uh w-well... Thanks.

Reptile: An assassin? And a hot one no less?

Y/n: You realize I'm supposed to kill you, right?

Reptile: Woah, didn't know death was so gorgeous...

Y/n: Alright, calm down cowboy.

Reptile: I wonder why you decided to become an assassin in the first place.

Y/n: So I can meet handsome guys like you.

Y/n: Your shape-shifting is getting annoying.

Reptile: Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather me use it to please you instead?

Y/n: Why are you so infatuated with me? I'm literally supposed to kill you.

Reptile: The fact you haven't yet is what drew me to you, M'lady.

Y/n: Your eyes are really pretty, mind if I carve them out of your dead body?

Reptile: chuckles What if our kids had them instead?

#mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #smoke x reader #scorpion x reader #sub zero x reader #reptile x reader #kuai liang #bi han #tomas vrbada #syzoth

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ttulipwritezz · 2 months

Text

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 2 - Expectations

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and Lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), Sirius is back, [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: This is more of the backstory and how they came to be, along with lots of awkwardness from both ends, I promise there's more remus in the next chapter <3 oh and reunion with Sirius and thanks to @lixzey for making me wanna push the awkwardness~ :) If you enjoyed this please reblog and comment :)

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

You and Remus were in love, you had been in love for 6 years.

Everyone knew you'd be endgame, and your brother hated it, to an extent.

Sirius loved that his little sister was happy, that she had joy in her life after the roughness of their family life. But he was scared, scared because he knew how much Remus would push people away, push himself away.

He didn’t want you hurt. But you were.

You found out in October, two weeks before Halloween.

You had been talking with Lily through letters back and forth, discussing your recent morning nausea and sickness.

She had asked when was the last time you and Remus had slept together, strange you considered that question, you replied a week ago at most.

Her letter came back with the words "you might be pregnant, dear...why don't you take this potion i sent along?"

And along with it there was a potion in a small vial with a piece of parchment guiding you through the process.

All you had to do was drink half of the potion and wait for the other half to shift hues.

And sure enough, the once rust coloured potion soon turned blue, signalling your current state.

You were carrying Remus's child, a child you hadn't talked about, a child you were sure you weren't ready for.

It was now hallows eve, the day you thought you had worked up the courage to tell Remus.

Children around town had just finished trick or treating and your husband was bringing back the basket with remaining candy.

He came into the bedroom with you and went straight to the shower, promising to return in a bit.

Your eyes heavy with sleep, you sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Remus to come out of the bathroom.

He sees them on your trousers before in your eyes, your tears. His brows furrowed in concern and pity as he looked at your face, eyes dull with sorrow and fear, so uncharacteristic of your usual glimmer and joy.

"What's the matter, dove?" He asks, voice slightly hoarse from the drowsiness in the back of his mind.

You don't answer, only look at him like you're out of words. You're thinking, thinking what a little Remus would look like, how they’d have the same nose, probably his same freckles dusting their face, and the same sandy locks of hair with deep roots.

You wonder if he'd want this, a kid, if this could be the one thing Remus would give up the world for.

"Come here, darling" he says and takes your body into his, nuzzling your face in the warmth of his polyester sweater. He understands, he always does.

That's how you sleep that night, unaware of the chaos that was soon to follow.

Remus rushed out of bed the moment the potter's deer patronus knocked on the window.

The white buck stopped at the foot of his bed and let out a call of help, soon disintegrating to mist after.

That night Remus lost three friends, you lost a brother to azkaban and you lost Remus.

He left the morning after. With your heart shattered to pieces, you let him go.

Your mind screamed at you to tell him. Tell him and maybe he'd stay. Tell him and maybe he'd reconsider. But your heart, ever the kind one, ever the selfless one, let him go. In hopes that one day you'd see him again.

Remus was half expecting you to slam the door in his face. To make a face of absolute disgust and just lock him out. But of course the other half of him was longing to hold you, see you after so long. So it came as a welcome surprise when you widened the door and let him inside.

"Uhm...come in, please, we were expecting you" You said, trying not to let your voice waver.

Remus felt so awkward. His hands were clammy, his posture was stiff and his jaw was clenched. He felt like he couldn't move, no more than if he had been hit with the petrificus curse.

You weren't in a much better predicament yourself. You could feel your eyes pricking with tears at the mere sight of him. The same man who left you. The man you let go. The man you still loved.

As he made his way inside the house you let your eyes roam across his figure. His hands were littered in large scars, far bigger than those you'd seen before. His face was shrunken, eyes hollower than you remembered. His smile lines were far more prominent now and his sandy brown hair had a few streaks of grey littered throughout.

"Where is the rest of the order? Where's sirius?" Why did you leave? Why are you back? How are you? You had so many questions but the rest were best kept to yourself.

"They're on the way, I was just...early" I wanted to see you.

Remus hated himself for leaving you. He wanted to tell you that. He regretted each night, even more so on full moons. After leaving the realisation of what he had done dawned on him, it was already too late.

Alas, by the time he had worked up the courage to talk, You were already making your way across the hall to embrace your brother who had just arrived.

When did he get there? How consumed in his thoughts was Remus?

You greeted Sirius with a hug and a look-over of his whole figure. His posture was shrunken, eyes even hollower than Remus's and instead of his signature smirk, only a ghost of a smile was left on his face.

A feeling of guilt consumed you. Your brother was back after azkaban. Innocent. And your mind was all consumed by Remus.

You ushered the rest of the order inside and told Regulus to pack up his things and clear out the living room. The confused and curious glances you got from everyone did little to ease your nerves.

Sirius pulled you aside. You prepared yourself for the conversation you knew was to follow.

“Who’s that?”

It was a valid question, Sirius was well aware that Remus had left that night. After their teary reunion, the werewolf had gotten an earful from the oldest Black. He was shocked and thought that you had found someone new, unlike Remus, Sirius was quick to notice the similarities between the small boy and you. He deduced that he was your son.

“Uhm- He’s my son.”

You were staring at your feet, and your hands were fidgety.

There was a long pause. The silence was so loud you could hear the clock ticking.

“I…I have a nephew?” His words came out uncertain. Cautious and slow.

With a hum you replied “His name is Regulus. Regulus Jace.” You left out the last name. Legally he was a lupin. And so were you. But it wasn’t that hard to conceal that at hogwarts.

At the mention of his little brother, Sirius seemed to grimace. But he put a smile on.

“You named him after Reggie?-” He asked. And continued as you opened your mouth to answer.

“Who’s..who’s the father?” He didn’t want to assume the worst. He was happy, truely he was. After that “bastard” (as he put it) left you it was only fair. No matter how much he ached to see the two of you together again.

“It is Remus.” You replied, vulnerability lacing your voice.

His face seemed to light up, eyes widening, both in shock and delight. Before he would alert the whole house, however, you let him know one more thing.

“He doesn’t know. Neither of them do. I haven’t told them.”

Your chest felt heavy, and your throat seemed to close up. It was hard for you to talk about. Despite being married you and Remus had never talked about kids, let alone with your friends. The feelings of contempt and guilt surrounded you.

Next thing you know, Sirius is pulling you in for a hug, securely wrapping his arms around you and trying to soothe your worries. His right hand wraps around your back as his left brushes against your hair in a calming manner.

It all comes crashing down. The weight of the lies, the guilt, the fear, the hatred. You cannot hold back the tears that rush down your face. A sob rakes though your body. You feel so much, everything, all at once, joy, relief, contempt, familiarity of an embrace.

But most of all...love. Love you haven’t felt in fourteen years.

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