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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

tell me why i imagine sweet daeron having a little boy's crush on aemond's wife because she's so gentle and kind with him

i saw someone else's ask about how he wants to be just like aemond, not only out of admiration but because he thinks "if someone like aemond can get a wife like (y/n) then so can i if i'm like that!!"

and sweet boy copying his mannerisms, pulling her chair out at dinners before aemond can and even though the chair basically towers over him, she's coddling and gushing at how polite and thoughtful he is and he MILKS that

so it becomes a playful rivalry between aemond and him and she's just "it's like you're actually intimidated by your baby brother"

and aemond who's hiding a giant bouquet of flowers behind his back only to one up the little rose daeron gave you "absolutely not. me? be rivaled by the twerp? never-"

Hi!! Oh my god this is darling, I cannot wait to write for these prompts! Cute little Daeron is 4 years younger than Aemond...so we will say he's 15 during this. Adorable.

Aemond x wife!reader | Daeron learning from his brother | admiration crush | playful brother rivalry

"Thank you Daeron, you're so sweet!" You smiled brightly at the boy as he extended to you a bouquet of wildflowers. "Ouch!" A stinging sensation spread around where a sprig of green had touched your hand.

"Ah, stinging nettle." Your husband mused, eyebrow raised at his younger brother as you dropped the offending bunch of flowers to the ground. "An interesting addition, Daeron."

"Gods I am so sorry Y/N!" Daeron looked from your wincing face to his bouquet now scattered upon the stone ground in alarm. "I have gloves on...and a very mediocre knowledge of local flora it seems."

Aemond took your sore hand in his, placing a gentle kiss to where your skin was reddening and swelling. Daeron noted his brother's movements with a studious gaze.

"Let's get you to the maester, I'm sure they have ointment on hand for such an affliction." Giving Daeron one last severe look, Aemond swept you from the room, leaving the crestfallen prince standing alone chewing his lip.

Later that evening, your finger lightly bandaged and no longer hurting, you found yourself entering the dining hall on Aemond's arm.

Daeron took note of your entrance, waving to you enthusiastically and striding over, a look of concern on his face. "Are you alright? I truly apologize for my earlier blunder." He extended a single red rose to you, giving you a slight bow.

You took the delicate flower, trying hard not to let your amusement show, especially as you felt Aemond shift in annoyance beside you. "Thank you Daeron, that is very thoughtful. I am quite alright."

"No loss of limb yet." Aemond agreed, shaking his head at Daeron's earnest expression. "Though I cannot speak for yourself should you continue giving my wife flowers."

Daeron frowned only slightly before he gestured for you towards the dining table, sweeping your chair out from its place for you to sit. He bowed again as you carefully took your place, sinking into the welcoming cushion. You scooted forward as Daeron pushed you into table. He overdid it in his eagerness to help, and your midriff was pressed uncomfortably hard against the wood. You let out a slight "oof" as some air was expelled from your lungs and pushed back with your hands.

From your peripheral vision you saw Aemond take his brother by the scruff of his collar, forcefully seating the young man into his own seat and giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. "If you want to impress a lady, Daeron, I suggest resisting the urge to bisect her."

You hid your laugh in the goblet of wine you brought to your lips, pretending to take a sip as Aemond took his place beside you, his hand resting briefly atop your knee. "Did my oaf of a brother do any permanent damage?" He was only half-joking, the annoyance still evident in the timber of his voice.

"I may never recover." You jested, leaning into him slightly, turning your face to place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "He is simply trying to mirror what he sees you do for me."

"He's failing spectacularly."

"Aemond." You chided, taking a moment to make sure Daeron couldn't overhear. "He looks up to you. Clearly he wants to learn from you."

Aemond huffed, bringing his own goblet to his lips. He didn't answer you, seeming to sink into deep contemplation as he often did when something troubled him.

------

The next day was clear and crisp, the winter air still chill despite the shining sun. You descended a set of marble stairs to the room you usually took your luncheon in. To your surprise you found Daeron and Aemond within, deep in conversation with each other. Daeron was nodding and Aemond had his hands clasped tight behind his back. They ceased speaking as soon as you entered, looking almost guiltily at you.

"I hope you're not up to anything that will raze King's Landing." You teased, your skirts rustling as you moved toward the table.

You stopped, looking at the spread of food laid before you. It was all of your favorite things to eat and drink. A little sample of each treat you so adored. "Aemond?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the delicious array of delicacies.

"I arranged for your favorite foods to be brought up for your enjoyment." Your husband inclined his head as you finally looked at him.

"I brought some books I thought you'd like to read while you took your afternoon meal." Daeron volunteered, looking slightly guilty as Aemond shot him a bemused glare.

"That was so very thoughtful of you Daeron, thank you for thinking of me." You smiled graciously at the young Targaryen.

Daeron beamed.

You moved to Aemond, tilting his head toward you with a finger to his sharp jaw. "Thank you my dearest." You kissed him softly upon his plush lips. You moved your mouth to his ear, whispering so only he could hear. "Though you do not need to compete with your brother."

"Speaking of my brother." Aemond said loudly, turning to face Daeron, an impish smile on his curved lips. "I've arranged for you to meet with several ladies your age from notable noble houses this eve."

Daeron's face blanched. "I...meet...tonight?"

"Indeed." Aemond shook his head, chuckling. "You seem intent on practicing your courtship skills on my wife, it's only fair you get more experience with other women." He patted Daeron on the shoulder. "Though do try not to maim them too badly."

"I'd never!" Daeron spluttered, glancing at you guiltily. "Not on purpose!"

"Remember what I told you regarding..." Aemond started but Daeron waved him off.

"Yes, yes, no need to repeat it in front of Y/N." A faint blush painted the younger Targaryen's cheeks, causing your brow to raise as you looked inquisitively between the brothers.

"You're lucky Aegon hasn't gotten wind of what you've been up to." Aemond continued. "He'd give you unending grief."

"Helaena's given me some useful tips I think." Daeron looked at you. "She told me flowers and chocolates are a sure way to a girl's heart."

"Being interested in her and listening to what she has to say, what she's interested in, is also a solid start." You agreed, smiling knowingly at Aemond as his eye found yours. "Though chocolate does go a long way."

The three of you laughed, Aemond's arm snaking around your waist, pulling you against his side. Daeron watched each movement Aemond made around you with attention, his lilac eyes bright with interest.

"Don't go to Aegon for advice on women." Aemond warned suddenly, his face grave as he looked down at his younger brother. "And if he offers to teach you anything about them, you come to me instead. Understand?"

"Yes." Daeron nodded, looking mildly confused at Aemond's unexpected severity.

You squeezed Aemond's waist lightly, reassuring him with your presence. "All will be well. Daeron, you are a dashing young man who is sure to sweep the right girl off her feet in no time."

"Thank you, Y/N. I can only hope to be as lucky as Aemond."

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moghedien · 1 month

Text

What really made me get why so many people are into AI is when someone compared it to “idea guys”

Because if you’re an artist of any kind and are public about it in anyway, you’ve probably encountered someone with ideas

Someone who comes to you, saying how they have a great idea for a book/comic/drawing/whatever and they want you to do the writing/drawing and they’ll let you split the profits/credit for their great idea

And I’m not talking about genuine collaborators or people who commission work. I’m talking people who think presenting you with their idea is some kind of blessing and you should do it for free for them because it’ll be good for you.

There is no lack of people like this, who think that the very fact that they have an idea makes them a uniquely creative person. They don’t understand that the ability to think isn’t unique to them and in fact every single person in the world has ideas, just very few people actually put in work to make those ideas into something tangible.

And because they think they’re unique in being able to think, they think ideas is what makes the art, and they don’t see or value the work and processes and skill that’s developed over hundreds of hours.

And honestly it might not be their fault, because the concept of ideas is fetishized. How often do we hear the phrase “it all started with an idea…” when some biopic or documentary is explaining how some big property began. Star Wars, Disney, or whatever is claimed be “one man’s idea” when actually “and hundreds/thousands of people’s work and skill” should be added immediately after that statement.

But idea guys who don’t want to put in the work to actually create their idea don’t see or value the work. It’s just the thing in the way of making their idea a reality. The work is what’s stopping them. They don’t see that the work IS the art. The quality and time it takes to do the job is directly related to how good it turns out.

So now that they can type in a few prompts and get some mediocre version of whatever they’re thinking about, of course they love it. It’s finally something that validates the very premise of having ideas being enough to produce something.

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mochinomnoms · 6 months

Note

Hi hi friend,

If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.

I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (♡°▽°♡)

floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience

Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love.

You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills.

Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections.

“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”

You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole.

“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead.

“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”

You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you.

“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”

“Out of the question.”

You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice.

It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched.

“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”

“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”

Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned.

Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”

You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink.

Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song.

“Is…is this ABBA?”

“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him.

“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”

“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”

Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had.

“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands.

“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.

Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”

“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back.

“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that.

“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you.

Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating.

The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape.

“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.”

Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic:

“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”

He recorded it.

“Oh my god…” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse.

“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.

His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes.

Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room.

“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!”

Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff.

“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”

“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”

“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”

His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind.

“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”

“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls.

Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing.

“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off.

Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you.

“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you.

“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”

Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off.

A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you.

Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away.

Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours.

You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful.

His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”

He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”

You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you.

“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”

“I heard you.”

“Huh?”

“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.”

You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes.

Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.

“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”

Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”

Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.

“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”

“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”

“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head.

“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot…”

You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day.

“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him…you just have to give him a chance.”

The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.

“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”

Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek.

“Yeah…”

“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”

You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”

“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”

“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”

Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”

“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”

“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”

“I’m begging you—”

“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”

“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess.

Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors.

Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge.

Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle.

“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”

“It’s…fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable.

“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”

You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea.

“Yeah…that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”

“Then? What’s stopping you?

A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you.

“What if…he gets bored?”

Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you.

“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”

You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”

Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent.

“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”

You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”

Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile.

“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.”

Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder.

“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is…Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”

You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”

“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror.

“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”

“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!”

Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”

“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”

“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!”

You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.

You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting.

Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses.

“You know…I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face.

“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”

You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”

“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”

You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed.

“Really? So what made you change your mind?”

“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”

Floyd’s tone changed, looking visibly annoyed as he continued.

“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”

“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”

“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead.

“I’m…sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”

Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”

Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form.

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”

You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin.

You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”

“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N…”

The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart.

“Please…” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate.

The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own.

You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth.

“I-I…love you, Floyd Leech.”

A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #a floral inconvenience #big advocate for softie floyd leech #its what he deserves

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utilitycaster · 1 month

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Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias comes from D20 being edited? It gives the appearance of much more effortless play and lets them control the pacing in a way unedited play like CR simply can't do. They get to (potentially) hide a lot of stuff people would jump on as flaws while CR has no choice but to let it all play out. I greatly prefer CR's approach, despite it biting them in the ass a bit through no fault of their own.

Answering these both together to group cause and my opinions, and I do want to note this is specifically about journalism/press coverage, not their respective fandoms even though there's obviously some overlap.

I think there's a couple things, but I do want to note this was actually prompted by Daggerheart, not Critical Role. The response from several prominent voices in the Actual Play journalism community, whom I will not name here but whom I do not respect intellectually, really was, within hours of the open beta (which as far as I know they didn't have early access to - more on that later) "um it could be better, I don't like xyz and also it's sooooooo important to have criticism" and again, it is important to have criticism, but also you act like D20 has never had a mediocre moment and that Kollok is brilliant, so.

This...got away from me a bit. I'd say I'm sorry but actually I adore writing thousands of words about actual play and it will happen again but I'm putting the detailed answer below a cut. The short answer is I think a lot of Actual Play journalists actually sort of fell into their jobs through being vaguely involved in nerd spaces and aren't actually equipped to talk intelligently about TTRPGs and actual play as a medium that should, at its best, be a perfect fusion of narrative and mechanics. So instead they're distracted by flashy edits and bright lights and cool noises and some abstract concept of "novelty" and write only about that. Also Critical Role is the 700 lb gorilla in the AP space (though not, actually, the TTRPG space) and doesn't give them early access and that's meaaaaaan. Indeed, for all I think a lot of their coverage of D20 and Worlds Beyond Number is obsessively fawning, I also think it's extremely surface level, frequently factually wrong, and fails to get at what's truly excellent about those shows either.

I think, honestly, the biggest one is that I don't actually think a lot of Actual Play journalists watch series in full. I was looking for Polygon coverage of Fantasy High Junior Year and they have one glowing article but it's more about Fantasy High as setting and institution and D20 "changing the game" (also more on this later) to the point of outright contradicting the pull quotes they used from interviewing Brennan Lee Mulligan (also more on this later). So I started looking through their coverage and actually, quite a number of their write-ups are based on only one episode, or half a season. Clearly, they haven't read the full open beta (nor have I, but I think their complaints about the character build process belie a profound misunderstanding of what TTRPGs are, also more on this later). So editing is certainly part of it because it's really easy to see cool special effects and sound design within one episode and shit out a hacky article about it, whereas actually getting to the substance - character relationships, cohesive narrative, storytelling - requires work that I do not think they're doing. And on the one hand I do kind of get it, because yeah, if journalism is your livelihood then you perhaps do not have the time to watch 4 hours of D&D a week for 2-3 years if you're only going to get one article every six months out of it. But I don't think the answer is "focus intently on Microsoft Powerpoint-esque scene transition tricks while ignoring that nothing occurring at the table is actually fun to watch." For more on this, see this post.

The second, which is very relevant to Daggerheart but also is actually a big gap in D20 and WBN coverage in my opinion, and which I put in the tags, is that I actually don't think a lot of journalists have a solid understanding of TTRPGs nor of most genres. And I think Critical Role has a particularly good understanding of both these things, actually, if one skewed towards collaborative storytelling that is not rules-light. I think one really big example is that one person within the space is mad at the Daggerheart questions for the character archetypes because what if your character doesn't fit these. I think this is dumb as shit. I actually think that a common criticism of D&D - that you can't play ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING - is not valid, or rather, it's a valid opinion to hold but if you want to play a character who doesn't fit into the available archetypes perhaps you need to find another game. We all inherently understand that Blades in the Dark characters will be members of a criminal organization in a relatively low-magic setting, correct? That you can't show up to BitD and play a lawful good wizard prince because that's not the story being told? Or like, how in Honey Heist, you are a bear and you are trying to get honey, and you cannot play a human child investigating the old abandoned house at the edge of town, but there's a cool game called Kids on Bikes that will let you do that? Great! Why is this suddenly so hard to understand in the realm of heroic fantasy, that you will fit into specific archetypes? Why do people's brains, if they have them to begin with, vanish suddenly? I know I just did a big old rant that included this within it but genuinely I think a lot of people are deeply ignorant of heroic fantasy, or don't like it, and either is fine, but then they get mad at the heroic fantasy game for having heroic fantasy archetypes when the answer is "maybe this will never make you happy because it's not for you." (Frankly, I think this is also why they love D20, because it doesn't really do straight-up heroic fantasy, and that's fine, but they do keep acting like doing a Game of Thrones pastiche is equivalent to the invention of the wheel.) Like...I remember in the Midst Q&A that Xen said they tend to not like playing typical D&D classes, but their solution was to, you know, create Midst instead of sitting around going "actually, because D&D doesn't support cyberpunk narrative and the character archetypes within very well it is an utter failure." (I could go on forever about how actually TTRPGs are not a showcase for your already extant OCs to prance around but that's a totally separate post).

Mechanics and story are inherently intertwined, is what I'm trying to get at (sorry I'm really tired and have a lot to do but I'm passionate about this answer, it will be rambly, she says like 3 pages in) and I really don't think most actual play journalists get this. At all. And I do think that CR, and Daggerheart, and the people working for it, and especially Spenser Starke, Rowan Hall, Matt Mercer, and Travis Willingham, get this more than almost anyone else in the field. I also think Brennan Lee Mulligan and Aabria Iyengar get this, and the thing is, for all the praise showered upon them, much of which I think is deserved and most of what I think is undeserved is not because they are lacking but because the person writing about them is an idiot crediting them for things they (Brennan and Aabria) would never claim to have invented, their mechanical prowess is rarely if ever written about well. Fantasy High Junior Year's downtime mechanics actually fill in a famous gap in D&D, namely, downtime, and provide an excellent marriage of story and mechanics in my opinion, and I haven't really seen any discussion, because that would require watching the part of the TTRPG show where they play the TTRPG, and knowing the vague word on the street about D&D criticism that isn't just "*nods sagely* capitalism is the BBEG."

And finally: related a bit to the edit but Critical Role used to not be able to provide any early access to press, because it was literally a live show, and I suspect they never broke the habit, and I think that is for the best. As discussed a lot of D20 coverage actually feels like they watched the press screener and then never returned to the show. And I do not know the politics about them, but given that several of these publications (notably Polygon, but some others) have been shitting on Critical Role for several years, and just generally given the way CR's leadership vs. how D20's leadership respond to fandom pressure, I suspect Critical Role does not give these journalists a ton of early or increased, if any. Honestly, why should you, if you're getting interviewed in Variety? And I think the journalists are mad, because they think they're special and should get treated as such.

I do want to wrap something up, and I want to thank @captainofthetidesbreath for talking a little about this in game design/ttrpgs and giving me the idea, but in story, you should be challenging your audience, expanding their horizons, and being new and interesting. In the actual playing of TTRPGs, especially a new one, it is vital to be inclusive and easy to understand and patient and provide points of reference. I really feel like many Actual Play journalists and some TTRPG ones as well have this equation flipped and are looking for challenging concepts that most people will never be able to get a group to be willing to play, and bells and whistles in production, but leave story as an afterthought. Critical Role designs games to actually be played and to be used specifically to tell good stories, and puts story before production, and I think that undercuts those journalists' whole deal.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #cr tag #anyway though i am going to go lie down and try to take a nap bc the daylight savings got me but good.

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depressed-werewolf · 1 year

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“Jesus, you’re so fucking stupid,” Villain mumbled as they bandaged the hero’s wounds. They could’ve had anyone in the city but they just had to fall you the reckless hero who didn’t know when they were out of their depth. “I thought you said you weren’t going after Supervillain.”

Hero grinned. “Yeah, I did this funny little thing called lying.”

The other cursed under their breath and rolled their eyes. “You little shit.”

#hero x villain #villain x hero #hero x villain community #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #prompt #hero x villain prompt #hero villain prompt #heroes and villains #writing #writing prompt #writeblr #tw injury mention #mediocre writing prompts #a mediocre writing blog #depressed werewolf

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keisobe · 1 year

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; 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 (𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲)

— from avatar 2 : the way of the water (spoiler free!!)

˚｡ 𖠗 as a sweet gesture, you offered to dry neteyam’s hair after a long journey in the sea. in the end, your kindness was rewarded with a salty kiss.

contents. f! reader, the reader is matkayina + eldest child of ronal and tonowari, mentions of matkayina features to describe the reader, no use of y/n, mild profanity, friends → lovers, descriptive kissing scene, all fluff + wc. 2.0k

notes. i loved avatar 2 and developed the fattest crush on lo’ak and neteyam, so i had to come in clutch and write a fanfic of my fav sully ! this is also my first ever fanfic that i’ve ever published, i got too excited to post so it isn’t fully proofread, but i really hope you guys enjoy <3

The sun was setting up for its rest. The glistening rocks were engulfed by the salty water, leaving residues of foam like the sea had left its mark on the land. Orange reflected off the waves— a beautiful sight to see. Though the ocean was a serene sanctuary for the Matkayina people, you had also come accustomed to its down sides. The tangy smell of ocean life clung stubbornly into the locks of your hair as you rose from the depths of an aquatic galore. In an effort to clean yourself, you ringed out the salty water that was nestled in your hair— causing a gush of water to fall beside you.

“Shit,” you cursed to yourself, shaking off the droplets that shedded from your greenish skin.

Not long before, the others had caught up with you, witnessing the disgusted features that permeated into your usual neutral face. Ao’nung couldn’t help but crack a smile, leaning over to whisper a joke to Rotxo— who suppressed a laugh. Your blue eyes suddenly shifted towards your troublesome siblings, rendering them completely silent and stiff. Now it was Tsireya’s turn to laugh, graciously walking over to your struggling form and running her delicate fingers through your salty locks.

“Big sister, you seem as if you hate the sea,” Tsireya teased as she latched more firmly onto your hair, more water spilling out. “Though you are our village’s best swimmer.”

Glancing towards your other side, you see the newcomers studying your frustrated movements and seemingly, anticipating your response. They noticed your blue eyes staring at them. The younger one, Lo’ak, shuffled a bit in the water and averted his eyes onto the boring sand beneath his feet to the orange clouds that casted above him. His older brother Neteyam, didn’t seize away from your gaze. Instead, he sneakily elbowed his brother from his poor attempt to act uninterested— earning an annoyed groan from Lo’ak. His eyes still on you throughout the whole scene. You couldn’t help but snicker a bit, deciding it’s best to give out some information about yourself to feed the curiosity of your new friends, especially for Neteyam.

“I do not hate the sea Tsireya,” You noted the perk of Neteyam’s pointed ears when you said that. “The water weighs down on your hair throughout the day and… the smell never goes away.”

Your words seemed to have sparked something within them, prompting the others to smell their own hair. From today’s adventure through the mounds of aquatic life, this would inevitably leave a strong scent of fish must— meaning smelly skin and hair. The forest people were expressive with their distaste. Lo’ak was the first to gag loudly, not used to the familiarity of the ocean. Neteyam, out of respect for the ocean, didn’t utter a word but the slight grimace that formed on his face said it all. Your siblings, very much used to the ocean, simply nodded in agreement, leaving everybody to ring out their own hair as more salty water was being released back into the ocean.

Neteyam silently dried out his dark braids away from the others. His movements were mediocre and it seemed as if his struggling efforts did nothing to solve his problem. Neteyam noticed your stare when his intense yellow eyes locked onto yours. It felt like the world stopped for a moment as if the both of you were silently communicating with one another. Then the sound of splashing waves became more distracting, forcing the both of you to return to your senses. Neteyam suddenly danced his long fingers through the air, signing to you. It seems that the sign language lessons you taught were actually helping the forest people.

Can you help me please? His lips moved along with his silent words, trying to memorize the language.

You shyly grinned towards him, signing back in response as you dragged your strong legs across the shallow waves. The soft sand beneath your feet tickled as you became closer to Neteyam’s presence. It strangely felt warm and welcoming. Finally, you stood beside the taller male, having to look up slightly in order to directly meet his eyes again. Intently, Neteyam looked down at you with a foreign softness— something you never saw from him before. It left you feeling a bit flustered.

“May I?” You faintly spoke, gesturing towards his neatly braided locks, reaching out slightly but hesitating to get any closer.

Neteyam only nodded, turning over to give you a clear view of his glistening back and completely soaked hair. Your eyes couldn’t help but admire his toned muscles, showing the remnants of his hard work and dedication as a warrior. His queue floated against the waves— you weren’t sure whether or not to dry that also but for now, you left it alone. Like Tsireya’s delicate fingers, you glided your own against his tight braids, pressing them until the squelch of water was heard. Neteyam hummed in satisfaction, though with his back facing you, his expression was completely unreadable. You repeated this motion for a few more seconds, the sounds of chatter and each other’s breathing filled the silence between you two.

“Thank you for helping me,” Neteyam was the first to speak up, his voice much more calm from his previous stern tone towards his brother Lo’ak.

“Of course, and I've seen that your sign language has improved from our last lesson,” There was a smile on your face as you recalled the fond memories of your one-on-one lessons.

You remember when Neteyam would struggle to form his words together without an awkward pause in between. How his fingers never bent properly that would completely change the meaning of its words. At times, you had to step in and tangle your soft fingers into his much rougher ones, articulating the correct words without having to verbally explain it again. Now, Neteyam could form small sentences a lot more fluently and it made you swell up with pride.

“It's because you’re a good mentor,” His voice lowered a bit as he said that, hints of teasing but also genuine gratitude.

You smirked a bit as you looked up towards where his eyes would be, wishing he was facing you. What did his face look like right now? Smug? Maybe even timid?

“Well I'm glad you’re learning our ways,” You replied in a neutral tone, trying to keep your composure as the upcoming successor as the tsahík of your village.

Twisting his braids in one swift motion, a surge of water fell against his stripped back— his hair completely rid of the rank odor and heaviness of the ocean water. Gently tapping his shoulder, Neteyam turned to face you. You swore his ears perked up a bit when he gazed at your lips for a second. Out of old habit, you fiddled with the colorful pearls and shimmering shells of your tiny garment. His features were similar to his mother’s, long dark lashes and a perfectly sculpted face. Neteyam’s eyes never shied away from you, regarding you with utter confidence but also a hint of uncertainty.

He slowly shifted closer and asked, “Maybe next time you could teach me how to swim as fast as you?”

To close the distance even more, you stepped closer to him, burying the sand over your feet in anticipation for what’s to come from Neteyam’s bold request. The water reflected the purple and blue blotches from the night sky, specks of silver shined brightly matched Neteyam’s white freckles. From the relentless teasing from the others, to the undeniable tension between you and the forest-born Na’vi— you wanted to finally take the initiative without waiting around.

“What if we make it a date as well?” Your voice was like silk to Neteyam, it made him shudder a bit.

Neteyam always dripped of composure and confidence. But when it came to you, he couldn’t help but feel like his trained limbs turned into a pool of putty. There was an alluring aura that you emitted. The way you held your head high in tough situations to the way you can make anybody laugh until they ran out of breath. You were also as skilled as him— maybe even more from all the adventurous stories you would share with him when you came by his marui. He was also one to stray away from anything distracting, whether it be Lo’ak and Spider bringing up the topic of girls or Kiri mentioning that someday he will meet his lifetime mate. All distractions, he told himself that. Now, in this moment on the calming shore, with you covered in the prettiest seashells and holding a gorgeous smile on your green face— Neteyam realizes that he needs to loosen up a little. A date sounded nice, especially with you.

“Sounds like a deal,” Neteyam dipped his head a bit, regarding you with a boyish grin.

His white fangs were in full display, making your heart swell in joy. Without second thought, you pressed a soft kiss against his warm cheek, catching Neteyam completely off guard.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow then,” You sweetly whispered against his cheek, brushing your hand against the kiss mark as you turned towards the village.

But before you could take another strong stride, a powerful tug on your wrist forced you to be tucked into the warmth of Neteyam’s chest— your face squished against his striated skin. He pulled you away and with quivering lips, he leaned down to press a tender kiss onto your own balmy ones. Instantly, you melted into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his small waist to bring him closer. Neteyam’s large hand was nestled into the locks of your hair, pressing your face even more closer. His lips tasted like the ocean, salty and bitter. Both of your lips shyly moved in sync with one another, slightly sloppy due to both of your inexperience. You and Neteyam pulled away at the same time, slightly panting from the lack of oxygen. Neteyam rested his forehead against yours, the smile he had before never left his face.

“Hey, don’t leave without me,” His voice sounded so gentle and his breath felt nice against your face. “I’ll walk you back to your marui, okay?”

Still a little dazed from the kiss, you nodded in reply. Neteyam pulled away and held out his warm hand, which you gladly took. He led the both of you out the shore, back to the village that was still full of life and lit with colorful lanterns. You found the others lounging by the wooden pier, covered in fluffy fabric that helped dry out their wet hair and damp skin. Tsireya waved at the both of you, two pieces of fabric clutched in her hand, seemingly for you and Neteyam. Your younger brothers and Lo’ak regarded the both of you with sly smiles and kissy faces, laughter bubbled within the group that ultimately earned them a complaint from a nearby family resting in their marui.

“Skxawngs,” Neteyam shakes his head in annoyance, but there was a small smile that crept onto his face.

You could only chuckle at their childlike behavior, squeezing Neteyam’s hand a little more tighter as you guided him towards the pier— making sure both of your younger siblings don’t stir any more trouble before you could finally return back home.

“Next time, you’ll dry my hair,” A gust of the nightly wind adorned your beautiful locks of hair, somehow he couldn’t wait to help you with that offer.

“Of course,” His heart began to pump even faster. Neteyam never felt genuinely happy ever since his family took refuge in Awa’altu, but he did now.

A much larger crowd had formed around the pier, breaking the grossly romantic trance between the two of you. Still hand-in-hand, you guys rushed through the swarm of tall bodies to retrieve your younger siblings, lecturing them on the way home. Neteyam sighed in contempt. He hoped they wouldn’t ruin his date with you.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂#* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️#ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁#— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : fics #avatar fanfiction #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #atwow x reader #fluff #no spoilers #friends to lovers

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promptsforthestrugglingauthor · 3 months

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Writing Prompt #2577

I was supposed to die young and tragic, at the height of my career, but instead I'd faded into mediocrity.

#writing prompt #writing #writers on tumblr #oc prompt #imagine your ocs #short prompt #story prompt #story inspo #story ideas #creative writing prompt #creative writing inspo #creative writing ideas #original prompt #daily prompt #daily writing prompt #promptsforthestrugglingauthor

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httpseiki · 11 months

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hi darlll!! how are you 💗

i was wondering if i could request a mean dom chan who was getting so worked up just before going on stage so he has to quick fuck you in the bathroom just a couple minutes before he has to go and perform :((

can you do 39, 6, 36, 2 please!! have a great rest of your dayyy

get the fuck in the bathroom.

mean!dom!chan x afab!sub!reader

note: hi hi yes, this is not my best work, and i'm aware that I put 35 instead of 39 so please excuse my mistake. I got a heavy writer's block since I've been writing for the past three days for my school essays😭😭 but I still wanna post for you guys and not keep you waiting. anyways, hope you enjoy wtv came out of it, it's kinda mediocre ehehehe...

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ the prompts!!

2. “does it get you hard knowing our friends are ten feet away?”

6. “baby, i have somewhere to be stop trying to fuck”

35. "are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?”

36. "you make a sound and it’s game over"

tw: dom!chan x afab!reader, NSFW content, established relationship, slight voyeurism, unprotected sex(do not follow), spanking, degradation, and also a little praise, and there's probably more but I'm tired.

song choice: tunnel vision - melanie martinez

"y'look so good tonight," chan speaks between kisses with you on his lap, "dressed all nice for the after party, yeah?"

you hum, too drunk with him. even though you were backstage, locked in his personal dress room, the sparks of the moment made you lose yourself on the bare minimum intimacy.

he was intoxicating, really. you moan in the sloppy kiss when his lips move to your neck, biting and sucking on your weak spots. chan knew them all by heart.

“does it get you hard knowing our friends are ten feet away?”

he chuckles and continues marking your exposed collarbones. you grind yourself on him, his rock hard erection dragging against your clit,

"can you blame me, thought?" chan looks into your eyes, "you look fucking gorgeous."

you gaze at him lovingly, sharing a moment of exploring each other's souls. your thumb swiped against his chin in order to clean him of your lipstick. a soft 'fuck' is his reaction, visibly getting turned on by your caring action,

"baby, i have somewhere to be, stop trying to fuck” chan grabs your wrist.

"just tryna keep you out of any scandals, that's all." your smile, innocently getting off his lap.

you go next to the full length mirror to fix your own lipstick stains that got smeared everywhere. you catwalk your way to your purse on the makeup table and search for your gloss. you return to the mirror, applying it to your swollen lips, but the way he tilted his head and looked right at you made your heart spin, why was he staring like that?

"I didn't even do anything!" your words come out wobbly since you were still retouching your makeup.

"yeah, sure" chan shrugged as he got up.

"I need you so badly," he groans, covering his face.

you giggle, knowing damn well he's gonna be dealing with tight pants for the next three hours.

"ey, careful with this attitude on stage," you point out to his dick.

you chuckle to yourself and get closer to him. your fingers grab the collar of his shirt, pulling it to make it look more presentable, hands slipping to fix his unmade tie, too. chan's gaze was melting your soul as it was full of love. and lust. you finally give in, looking up at him through your lashes,

"are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?” his voice is low, deep.

you smile, flustered at his words. you didn't know you could get him this needy just by simply touching his tie. but you loved it,

"get the fuck in the bathroom. "

"... what?"

"now." he points to the exit, "you caused a problem and you're gonna solve it.".

and could you refuse? the moment you agreed, chan's lips crashed into yours. you two moved until your back hit the door. he opened it, gently closing it behind you. your face felt hot, the other members greeting you loudly, their excitement going through the roof. your boyfriend excused himself from the warm up, saying he wants to give you a snack.

in reality, you were pushed up against the cold tiles of the wall with chan behind you. his hands pulled your hips towards him, rolling your velvety dress up. you hiss when he takes off your panties, the air hitting your leaking cunt,

"you make a sound and it’s game over," he warns, fingers rubbing your folds.

"j-just fuck me, hurry~" you look back to see him pulling out his cock.

"the slut is impatient, yeah?" he chuckles.

and god, did it look painful. he ligned himself up, pushing it in little by little, your body being set on fire.

"so goddamn tight..." he groans, starting to pick up the pace.

you were struggling to keep in your moans when he was stretching you out so well. it felt like he was splitting you apart. normally, you would take your time and let him scissor you, but due to the lack of minutes before he has to leave, this had to do. and by the way he was squeezing your waist, it wouldn't take much longer,

"chan!!" you moan his name when his dick touched that spot.

his hand comes down on your ass roughly making you yelp,

"told you to be quiet, ──, can't even do that for me?"

you felt tears prickle on your face when another slap made its way in your reddened cheek, chan's fingers covered your mouth as you released abruptly. how the fuck did he felt that before you did?

"shit, I'm gonna come too," he groans. "gonna fill you up, you're gonna hold it inside until I get back, you're gonna my good girl, right?"

"y-yes, your g-good girl... " you manage to speak.

"that's right, you're my good girl, " he spanks you one last time. "gonna give my cum to her now, hmm? she deserved it."

then, he comes hard. his body falls over yours, the door surprisingly supporting the both of you,

"did so good for me, I love you, " chan kisses your head, slowly pulling out, "are you okay, babydoll?"

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starcheols · 3 months

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the 1 — choi seungcheol

⭑ it is said that no one ever forgets their first love, nor their first heartbreak. truer words have never been spoken as you leave the glamourous cities of europe to return to your small hometown, for the first time in seven years.

don't you think it would have been sweet, if it could have been me pairing :: smalltown!seungcheol x fashion designer!reader (gender neutral) genre :: nostalgia, gentle angst

warnings :: nothing major! just heartbreak i guess? mentions a glass of wine and a kiss. word count :: 1.4k

author's note :: i've never written a fan-fiction before so i'm marking this monumentous occasion with a slightly mediocre piece of writing that was floating around in my head for a week :)

links :: masterlist / ask to be added to the taglist!

The old bus station, with its peeling red paint and rugged masts, greeted you like an old friend as you took a step off the weathered vehicle, with its tires sagging next to the cracked curb. It seemed that autumn’s breath was whispering in the air, carrying a chill that nipped at you, prompting you to tug your cashmere coat tighter around yourself.

As you stood there, under the canopy of the station, the rhythmic plod of the primordial-era bus faded into the distance, and a familiar nostalgia settled over you like the autumn mist.

Your hometown had remained frozen in time, a canvas of memories painted against the backdrop of quaint architecture and cobblestone streets that echoed under the sharp clack of your heeled boots.

As you rounded the corner of the bus station, the remainder of the small town, with its quaint buildings and centrepiece fountain, unfolded before you like a familiar tapestry of memories.

And there, standing beneath the flickering street lights of the early morning, a broad-shouldered man stood with his back turned, the sun’s first tentative rays finding a home in his honey-blonde hair. And for that fleeting moment, you could have sworn you felt time suspend, the world tilting its axis beneath you, for it had been so long.

But then, reality asserted itself, like a gentle hand grounding you in the here and now. The features, upon closer inspection, were not those you had once known. The stranger's eyes, the curve of his jaw, all different from the one etched into the canvas of your memories.

You certainly could not resist the wave of relief that washed over you, and that sneaking adrenaline that had coiled within your chest slowly released its grip, leaving the heartache to dissipate along the morning dew beneath the frail sunlight.

Seven years since you had left this town, teary-eyed and clutching your suitcase, chasing dreams that led you across the world, to the capitals of Europe to pursue your degree and future.

Milan, where you honed your craft, your fingers becoming extensions of your artistic vision. Paris, where the world of haute couture embraced you, and your name adorned the lips of those who appreciated the elegance of your designs. The bustle of fashion weeks, the allure of glamorous shows — it was a life you had dreamed of, a life you had made your own.

Yet, amidst the glittering lights of success, the echoes of that tearful departure still reverberated, often coming back to you after a stranger’s kiss or a glass of red perched on your dining table, up in the penthouses of Paris.

You remembered that fateful day, seven years ago to the date today, when the bus station had rather been a stage for a heartbreaking farewell. Seungcheol, your best friend with golden hair and big eyes that once held a world of shared secrets, stood before you.

Back then, you were just eighteen, brimming with dreams and aspirations. You had poured your heart out to Seungcheol, confessing a love that had blossomed within the cocoon of friendship. But his response, or rather the lack thereof, had cast a shadow over the farewell, dragging you over the edge to embarrassed silence and quiet tears. His eyes, ringed with long lashes that you longed to once press a soft kiss to, reflected not reciprocation, but a profound sadness and pity.

The bus had become your vessel of escape, your tears mingling with the rumble of the engine, as the vehicle pulled away from the same curb that you stepped out on today. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air — Choi Seungcheol, the person you had thought of when you tossed pennies into the fountain’s pool and the person you loved the most in the entire world, (and really, what was the world of one who had just turned eighteen?), did not share the same sentiments at all.

The bench under the gnarled oak tree offered a momentary respite, and you took a seat, your coat enveloping you like a cocoon against the autumn chill. As you waited for your parents, who had vowed to meet you for breakfast, you watched the leaves dance in the breeze, a kaleidoscope of reds and golds that mirrored the hues of memories embedded in this town.

The quiet peace of the surroundings enveloped you, and you closed your eyes, allowing the crisp air to wash over you. The distant hum of the town, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant echo of a church bell created a symphony that resonated with a serene melancholy. The town hadn't changed much, and neither had the comforting embrace of its quiet corners.

A voice, a familiar voice, and one that you knew only all too well, cut through the tranquil ambiance. Your eyes snapped open, and the world seemed to shift on its axis again. There, standing before you, was Seungcheol —no longer the silent boy you tearfully left behind but a man, his honey-blonde hair still curling around his ears. His gaze met yours, and the years seemed to melt away in that moment, and how you hated the leap of your heart and the shake of your hands.

And it seemed your traitorous heart, a tempest of conflicting emotions, of love and grief, ran cold and hot simultaneously. Seven years had sculpted the features of the boy who you had loved from your childhood into a refined allure, the lines of boyhood replaced by the contours of a man who had weathered time with grace.

"Hey," he greeted you, a warmth in his eyes that could have deceived you into forgetting silent tears, and his pitying gaze years ago. "I heard you were back in town. It's been forever!"

Your brightest smile, a mask that you could credit from having being forged from your years of navigating the high celebrity ends of the world, adorned your own face, as you accepted his open arms, pulling yourself into the scent of him.

The old familiarity threatened to unravel the carefully constructed walls around your heart. How was it that he seemed genuinely excited to see you, to reconnect after all these years.

Seungcheol's infectious laughter filled the air, a melody that echoed through the town square, and one that you would have spent summers listening to on repeat, your arms intertwined. "I can't believe it, you know? I always knew you had that amazing potential, but seeing your name everywhere, in magazines and tabloids, isn’t that so cool? You've made it so big!"

The genuine admiration in his eyes was both heartwarming and disconcerting, for you. You could only nod, expressing gratitude for his kind words while trying to suppress the turbulent emotions churning beneath the surface. The town's quiet corners, once a sanctuary, now felt like a stage, each word and glance an act in the intricate dance of reunion.

And you won't believe who's behind me," Seungcheol continued, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "My wife's a huge fan of your work. She practically dragged me here to meet you."

As your eyes shifted to the figure approaching behind him, your breath caught. A woman, stunning with dark red hair, walked with two small children by her side. The bitterness, like a dormant ember, flickered within you, threatening to consume the facade of happiness you had meticulously crafted.

"Hey, look who's here!" Seungcheol called out to his wife, his voice brimming with excitement.

She turned, and for a moment, your eyes locked. A fleeting connection passed between you, a recognition of shared spaces in a world divided by time and choices. Her smile was warm, genuine, and you tried to match it with your own, though it felt brittle, a fragile façade that hid the tempest within.

Seungcheol introduced you, praising your work with an enthusiasm that only friends from the past could muster. The children, curious and full of innocent wonder, regarded you with wide eyes. As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but wonder what could have been if, in that moment seven years ago, the trajectory of your lives had diverged in a different direction.

Seungcheol had moved on, creating a family, a chosen one. The pang of longing lingered, but you swallowed it down, resisting the temptation to wonder about alternate realities.

But we were something don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool. And if my wishes came true, it would have been you.

#seventeen #scoups #choi seungcheol #caratlibrary #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #00 #00eras

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alaskasmonsters · 1 year

Text

𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖎𝖌𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘 (michael kaiser)

pairing: michael kaiser x gn!reader

contents: playful insults, teasing, mistaking attraction for hatred, foreign language (french), enemies to lovers (hinted)

w/c: 1.842

summary: when you accompany your friend noel to blue lock you did not consider that kaiser, aka the bastard’s most infamous asshole, would be there, too. luckily your favourite pastime activity was throwing french insults into his face that no one but noel could understand.

a/n: this is based on a request i got :) this isn’t really love-hate and more another ‘attraction mistaken for hatred’ buuut if you’re all nice i’ll make a second part about when they move into the love-hate stage :) also can i just note how eVIL it is to ask a german person to write about the fRENCH. we are natural enemies yall 😔😔 we meet behind a denny’s to fistfight (and kiss) whaat who said that?!?! anyways i did love this prompt despite not being able to speak french. i was able to ask my friend to give me some phrases, their credentials are *checks papers* mediocre school french 👍🏻👍🏻 so let’s just hope my friend can be trusted, if not hope kaiser being hot makes up for it! (also french people <3 if you wanna correct my french pls do 🙏🙏)

You grumbled to yourself, regarding Kaiser with a glare. Not one he could notice since he was currently standing with his back turned towards you, conversing with Ness.

“Blaireau,” you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowing at the boy.

Noel, who was sitting next to you, let out a sigh but didn’t even raise his gaze from his clipboard to regard you with one of his typical deadpan looks.

You guessed it wasn’t necessary, he knew you well enough to know you were sitting there with a frown edged into your features and your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“So you’ve started doing it even when he’s not close enough to hear you,” he asked you.

“Pardon me?”

“Muttering insults in french. I thought you were doing it to infuriate him but I am sure you know he cannot hear you from this distance.” To emphasise his statement he lifted his hand to point towards Kaiser, who was standing several feet away fem the two of you, before returning the pen he was holding to the paper, scribbling down another number.

You wondered how Noel made sense of it all. Keeping track of the stats of all the new team additions and transferring these numbers into percentages. What those percentages exactly meant you were unsure about. All you knew was that your friend spent a lot of time on them.

You sighed, trying your best not to glare at Kaiser again as you turned to look towards him. You failed.

“Infuriating him is only an added benefit. I do enjoy just insulting him for the sake of it.”

“I see.” Although Noel sounded unimpressed you could tell he would lose his patience with this little thing you and Kaiser had going on, sooner or later.

Especially if it would end up distracting the boy from soccer, not that you thought that was ever possible. Kaiser would rather ignore you for the rest of his life than endanger his soccer career.

You turned towards Noel again and let out a dramatic sigh. Time to make this predicament you were in known to him once more.

“Noel, i need you to look me in the eyes and tell me Kaiser isn’t one of the most annoying assholes you’ve ever met.” You challenged him, lowering your voice as to not catch the attention of any of the boys standing nearby.

The corner of Noel’s lips twitched up at your frustrated tone. Almost like he didn’t take you seriously. You frowned. Rude. This matter was dead serious.

“He doesn’t know how to behave. I trust you to be the mature one. Unless you want me to get you thrown out of this building. You’re only here because i consider you a dear friend, don’t forget that.”

You gasped, offended at the insinuation he’d be willing to throw you out, his best friend, in favour of keeping Kaiser’s ego intact. It was true that you were only allowed to accompany him to ‘Blue Lock’ because he had requested your presence, seeing as you were his best friend. You needed to emphasise that because ‘dear friend’? Yeah right. He wouldn’t know what to do without you. He’d certainly lose his mind.

“You wouldn't. You need me. My presence is precious to you,” you insisted, digging your finger into his arm, not unkindly. “But okay, I promise to behave since Kaiser is clearly not able to.”

You thought offering this was extremely kind of you since it was Kaiser who needed to learn some manners, not you. You were extremely well behaved.

“Aww you’re quite obsessed with me, aren’t you, darling?”

Your blood turned cold. When you turned your head back forward you were met with the sight of none other than Michael Kaiser standing only three feet in front of you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Casse-toi, Kaiser.” You cursed before you were able to stop yourself.

Kaiser’s grin grew. Noel let out a sigh next to you.

“You promised,” He reminded you and looked up from the clipboard to regard you with a pointed look. “Please, Y/n.”

“It’s not my fault. He’s started it!” You gasped, pointing at Kaiser childishly.

He laughed, waving his hand.

“I just came to say hello after hearing my name come out of your mouth so often. I was afraid you’d wither away without my attention.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his innocent smile fooling no one.

Your jaw ticked and before you knew it you had risen to your feet and stomped forward to close the remaining distance between you two to start cursing him out in french.

To your growing anger Kaiser took it in stride, cocking his head at you and listening with interest as you threw insult after insult at his head before Noel apparently had enough of you. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you back telling you to sit back down and ignore Kaiser. He sounded exhausted.

Easier said than done. Kaiser’s whole nature demanded attention. It was impossible to ignore him. But you had promised Noa you’d behave, so you guessed you should at least try.

“T’es chiant!” you snapped at Kaiser, seeing this as the end of your fight, before you let Noel pull you down into the seat.

Noel gave you another pointed look before his gaze shifted back to Kaiser who was watching your interaction with amusement though there was a dark edge to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“You’re not done with your training, yet, are you?” Noel asked Kaiser

The boy grinned and gave a halfhearted shrug.

“I’m taking a break.”

“Take it somewhere else,” you bit out, feeling Noel’s disapproving glare burn into the side of your face.

You were trying!

“I prefer your lovely company over the one of the common folk,” Kaiser replied easily, waving his hand in the general direction of where you saw the boys of the ‘Blue Lock’ project talk.

Kaiser didn’t like them much, especially Isagi, who has already declared war on him in a very dramatic way that had you questioned the boy’s mental health. Like really, was the boy okay? Talking about devouring people and ruining their life and all.

At least Isagi managed to infuriate Kaiser in a way that no one else was able to. Of course, this meant that you did like Isagi if only because he actually managed to get under the boy’s skin. Unlike you. Kaiser never seemed impressed when you threw french insults into his face, no, it was the complete opposite. He seemed to love it. He seemed to bash in your attention. This only made you angrier.

Entitled jerk.

Maybe you’d just have to take your ‘lovely company’ to Isagi and his friends the next time you saw Kaiser coming your way. That would keep him away.

“They’re not common folk and you’re not an emperor, Kaiser, at best you’re the roi des cons,” you fired back, regarding him with an unamused look.

Nowl let out another sigh, though you thought it was quite a clever word of play. He just didn’t know how to appreciate it or you for the matter.

Kaiser hummed, taking a few steps forward and lowering his head. His gaze was intense as he fixed yours behind the curtains of his hair that fell into his face. Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the sudden air of seriousness surrounding him.

“Is that a new petname, my love? How precious.” His voice was low and smooth and it took you a second to process his words.

When you did you felt your cheeks explode in heat and you had half a mind to jump up and wrestle Kaiser to the ground if it wasn’t for Noel’s hand grabbing the back of your jacket and pulling you down again.

“Stop provoking them and go back to your training, Kaiser.”

Kaiser just snickered, eyes twinkling with mirth as he took in your red face and the snarl on your lips.

“Don’t miss me too much, i’ll be back in a bit,” he mocked with a grin that reached his eyes but still didn’t look genuine.

He turned around to walk away.

“Va te faire enculer!” You called after him but he just laughed and waved his hand at you without turning back.

You huffed and sunk back in your seat, arms crossed in front of your chest as you pouted. You fucking hated that guy.

Noa watched you quietly for a moment before he shook his head and moved to stand up, pushing his clipboard into your hands for you to hold.

“Your taste in men is horrible,” he told you as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather before shrugging out of his tracksuit jacket and throwing it on the chair he’s been sitting in.

You shot up, shrieking. “Excuse me?”

A few boys close-by turned to stare at you and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your out-lash but you couldn’t believe the words that had just left your friend’s mouth.

“Kaiser is bad news. You can do better than him.”

You gasped at him, cheeks burning from embarrassment. Where did that just come from? Was he seriously insinuating that you? And Kaiser?

“I’m not- You’re- I-” You stuttered, your heart racing in your chest.

This was- You couldn’t believe this!

Noel rolled his eyes and gently pried the clipboard out of your eyes, levelling you with a calm look.

“If you want to deny it, go ahead. But either way stop pulling Kaiser’s metaphorical pigtails already, it’s exhausting.”

He gave you a gentle clap on the shoulder and a small smile, before walking off towards the direction of the ‘Blue Lock’ boys. You stared after him, your face hot and your mouth agape.

You weren’t-

You and Kaiser? That was ridiculous. Absolutely impossible. You would never, not in a billion years, be attracted to him. He was such an asshole. A complete jerk. Completely infuriating. Why would Noel even think that?

You huffed again, shoulders bunching up as you tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Noel had no idea what he was talking about. What did he even know about romance? Nothing. That’s right!

You lifted your gaze and- You froze when your eyes locked with Kaiser’s. He was standing on the other end of the field, football secured under his arm. He was watching you intensely. From this far away it was hard to make out the look in his eyes but you felt a shiver rake down your spine and the itch on your tongue.

You gave him the middle finger, biting your tongue to not throw another insult his way as you would have had to shout it over the whole field. When the boy did nothing but laugh and blow you a kiss, you quickly turned away. The heat in your cheeks never fading.

Noel was wrong. You did not have a crush on Kaiser. You did not.

Not even a little.

translations:

Blaireau — Asshole

Casse-toi — Fuck off

T’es chiant — You’re annoying

Roi des cons — Complete idiot/King of idiots

Va te faire enculer — Go fuck yourself

#michael kaiser #bllk #blue lock #michaek kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser oneshot #bllk oneshot #bllk x reader #kaiser blue lock #blue lock oneshot #blue lock x reader

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