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pucksandpower · 28 days

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Don’t Touch Her

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety after the unthinkable almost happens during a night out

Warnings: spiked drink, attempted SA, descriptions of seizure, hospitalization, and the implied murder of a minor character

You sway your hips to the pulsing beat, the colorful lights of the club flashing across your skin. Lando’s hands rest lightly on your waist, guiding you to the music. You lean into him, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat in the humid air.

“I’m parched,” you say, turning to face him. “Want me to grab you a drink?”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can get them, love. You keep dancing.”

You shake your head, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway. Same as usual?”

“Please. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You make your way through the crowded dance floor, weaving around gyrating bodies and flailing limbs. The bar is packed, patrons jostling for the bartenders’ attention. You manage to wedge yourself into a tiny gap, shouting your order over the commotion.

While waiting for the drinks, you check your phone. A few missed texts from friends, asking where you are. You fire back quick responses before pocketing the device just as the bartender slides two glasses toward you.

Vodka cranberry for you, rum and coke for Lando. You pass over a few bills, waving away the change, and turn to head back to the dance floor.

You take a long sip of your drink as you walk, the bubbly sweetness refreshing after all that dancing.

Lando is easy to spot, standing out due to the size of the crowd surrounding him. He smiles when he sees you coming, his whole face lighting up. Your heart flutters at the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room.

You’re halfway to him when the first wave of dizziness hits. You stumble, drinks sloshing over your hands. Sudden nausea swirls in your gut. The room starts to spin, lights blurring into a kaleidoscope.

“Hey ...” You blink hard, trying to clear the fog creeping over your thoughts. “I don’t … feel so good.”

The glasses slide from your grip, shattering on the floor. You try to take a step toward Lando and the ground rushes up to meet you. Strong hands grab your arms, keeping you from collapsing completely.

“Whoa there, looks like someone started the party a little early.” The voice is unfamiliar, masculine with a hint of mocking laughter. You try to pull away but your limbs feel like lead.

“No, I ...” You shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. Through your dimming vision you can see Lando pushing through the crowd, his eyes wide.

“C’mon, there’s a back door this way. Let’s get you some air.” The man starts to guide you away, arms wrapped around your shoulders. Panic shoots through you and you try again to wrench yourself free, but it’s useless.

The cold night air hits you as the door swings open. The alley swims before you, dingy bricks and overflowing dumpsters. The man keeps walking, bearing you along while your weak protests fall on deaf ears.

Fear claws at your insides. You catch a glimpse of streetlights at the other end of the alley before he steers you into the shadows halfway down.

“S-stop,” you mumble, tongue heavy in your mouth. He just chuckles, pressing you against the brick wall.

“Shh, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” His hand squeezes your thigh, rucking up your dress. Somewhere in the recesses of your fading mind, terror shrieks at you to fight, to run, but your traitorous body refuses to respond.

As the man leans in, the alley floods with light. Heavy footsteps pound on the pavement.

“Get your hands off her!” Lando’s voice booms with more fury than you’ve ever heard from him. The man holding you whirls around just as Lando’s fist connects with his jaw. He reels back with a cry, grip loosening. Lando catches you before you can slide to the ground.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you.” His touch is infinitely gentle compared to the bruising hold of the stranger. He strokes your hair back from your face, eyes searching yours. “Can you hear me, love?”

You try to respond but only manage a faint whimper. Lando swears under his breath. Scooping you into his arms, he carries you swiftly from the alley. You press your face to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline as he strides toward the street. Each jostling step sends the world spinning again.

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Lando lowers you onto a bench outside the club, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Talk to me, please. What’s happening?”

You lick your dry lips, forcing words out with monumental effort. “Dizzy … everything … blurry ...”

Lando’s face creases with worry. He pulls out his phone to dial for help, but pauses when you suddenly convulse, muscles seizing. Your back arches, head slamming against the hard bench.

“Shit! Hold on, I’ve got you.” Lando slides his hand under your head, cradling it gently as the seizure wracks your body. Tears stream down his face as he murmurs soothing words, helpless to do anything but wait it out.

After endless moments, the convulsions stop. You go limp, gasping raggedly. The world fades in and out of focus, Lando’s anguished face floating above you.

“Please, baby, stay with me,” he begs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “The ambulance will be here any second.”

You try to respond but darkness crowds the edges of your vision. The last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness is Lando bent over you, shoulders shaking with sobs as he clutches your motionless hand.

***

Beeping.

Hushed voices.

The astringent scent of disinfectant.

You drift somewhere between waking and oblivion, grasping at fractured memories.

Lando’s face, streaked with tears.

Dancing bodies.

Pulsing lights.

The weight of unwanted hands, dragging you into the shadows.

With a sharp inhale, your eyes fly open. You’re in a hospital room, IV line taped to the back of your hand. Pale morning light filters through the blinds. The beeping comes from a monitor tracking your heartbeat.

“Hey.” Lando sits in a chair beside the bed, leaning forward when he sees you’re awake. His eyes are rimmed with red, hair disheveled. “How are you feeling?”

You try to speak but your throat is painfully dry. Lando grabs a cup of water, angling the straw so you can sip. The cool liquid soothes like a balm, washing away the cottony feeling in your mouth.

“What … what happened?” You rasp out finally.

Lando’s expression turns grim. “Someone drugged you at the club. Probably targeting an easy robbery, but ...” His jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. “If I had been even a few seconds later, he would have ...”

Unable to finish the thought, Lando buries his face in his hands. His shoulders tremble. Your heart aches, and you reach out to comb gentle fingers through his hair.

“But you weren’t,” you say softly. “You saved me.”

He looks up, eyes shining wetly. “I never should have let you out of my sight. If I lost you ...” His breath hitches, raw anguish written across his face.

“Hey, no.” You catch his hand, squeezing firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. You found me in time. That’s all that matters.”

Fresh tears spill down Lando’s cheeks. He brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a trembling kiss to your knuckles.

“I was so scared,” he chokes out. “Seeing you like that, helpless, shaking ...” He clenches his jaw, looking away. “And not being able to do anything. Just having to watch ...”

He breaks off with a shuddering breath. You tug gently on his hand, urging him up from the chair. He perches on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in his tender arms. You cling to each other, tears mingling as the enormity of what almost happened sinks in.

After long moments, Lando pulls back to cup your face in both hands. He searches your eyes, still flooded with relief and lingering fear.

“I could have lost you,” he repeats in a shattered whisper.

You cover his hands with your own. “But you didn’t. I’m right here. With you.”

His breath leaves him a rush, the frightened tension easing from his frame. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours. The beeping monitor and distant hospital noises fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this quiet intimacy.

When Lando finally lifts his head, the fire in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he says, low and fervent.

You meet Lando’s intense gaze, equally overcome by emotion.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

He cradles your face again, thumbs sweeping feather-light over your cheeks. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s soft yet saturates you with his passion, fear, relief — every shade of the feelings coursing between you in this moment. You sink into it, hands coming up to twist in his rumpled shirt, keeping him close.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. Lando smooths your hair, regret pinching his features.

“I should let you rest. The doctor said you’ll probably feel weak and foggy for a few days.”

You give a small shrug. “I don’t feel that bad right now. Just … stay with me?”

He smiles softly. “Of course, love.”

Settling next to you on top of the sheets, he loops an arm around your shoulders. You nestle against him, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. For a long moment, you simply savor being wrapped in this bubble of solace.

“Do they know who did it yet?” You finally ask, unable to quell your lingering unease about the attack.

Lando shakes his head. “The police looked at security footage but the guy’s face wasn’t visible. They’re still investigating.”

You nod, chewing your lip. Lando tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I won’t let him get away with this,” he says, quiet but fierce. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find him and make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

There’s cold fury underlying his tone that you’ve never heard from him before. It reminds you viscerally of that brief glimpse in the alley — Lando transformed in the heat of protective rage.

But now the fire in his eyes is fanned and smoldering. A determination that won’t relent.

He tightens his arm around you, pressing his lips to your hair. You settle against his chest again, comforted by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

***

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Lando, a movie playing quietly in the background. You’re mostly zoning out, still feeling residual exhaustion. Lando plays idly with your hair, a comforting sensation.

When your phone buzzes with an alert, you grab it lazily, expecting a text from a friend. Instead, a news headline makes you bolt upright.

Lando notices your change in demeanor.

“What is it, love?”

“That man, the one from the club … he was found dead. I would recognize his face anywhere.”

You continue to scan the article. “Doesn’t specify much, just that he was found in an abandoned building across town. Ruled a homicide but no suspects or motive yet.”

You wordlessly tilt the phone screen for him to see. He looks at it blankly, face impassive.

“Oh. Well, perhaps some justice has been served after all.”

You narrow your eyes at his mild tone. “Did you ...”

“Did I what?”

“Have something to do with this?”

Lando presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Me? Now why would you think that?”

“Lando.” You level him with a knowing look. “Did you?”

He meets your gaze steadily for a moment before sighing. “I told you I’d make sure he never hurt anyone again. A man like that doesn’t deserve to keep stealing breaths.”

You absorb this, unsure how to feel. “So you ...”

“I didn’t personally do anything,” Lando hedges. “But I have … connections. People who know people who can handle things quietly.”

You bite your lip. “You had him killed.”

Lando takes your hands in his. “Hey. Look at me. That bastard drugged you, dragged you into an alley. He would have ...” His jaw flexes. “I did what needed to be done to keep you and others safe.”

“I just ...” You wrestle with your conflicted emotions. “I don’t know how I feel about you essentially ordering a hit.”

He drags a hand over his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is low and controlled. “All that matters is he can’t hurt you or anyone else now. Try to remember what he did to you — how you felt. Helpless. Frightened. I wasn’t about to let him continue terrorizing women.”

You take a shaky breath. “No, you’re right. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around.”

Lando caresses your cheek. “You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know. But some people are simply too dangerous to be allowed to go on hurting people. I don’t take this lightly, but there are times when permanent solutions are necessary. Do you understand?”

Up close, you can see the storm of emotions he’s battling to contain. Anger, satisfaction, hints of doubt and guilt. You cup his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For protecting me, even if it meant ...”

Lando closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I would do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.” His thumb strokes along your jaw. “You never have to worry. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, no matter what.”

His voice rings with quiet conviction. You cover his hand with your own, meeting his solemn gaze. In this moment, you truly comprehend the depths he’s willing to go for you.

“I know you will,” you whisper. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Lando searches your face, shoulders losing their rigid tension when he finds only acceptance and gratitude shining back at him.

“I would be lost without you,” he murmurs.

You lean in, kissing him softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Drawing back, you offer a tiny smirk. “And clearly, I should never get on your bad side.”

Lando huffs a surprised laugh. The lingering shadows in his eyes fade as he pulls you close. You sink into his embrace, heartbeat steadying against his.

Whatever lengths Lando went to in order to protect you, to remove the threat hanging over your regained sense of safety, you know you’ll forever be thankful for this devoted, fierce, and tender-hearted man you love.

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quillyfied · 1 year

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There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:

The Sympathetic White Woman.

In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.

Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.

(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)

For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.

Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.

Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.

Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.

It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.

Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.

(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)

#knives out #glass onion #major spoilers for both obviously #and hoping I got this post right with what I was trying to say #listen I shotgunned both movies for the first time in a span of two days #I am VIBRATING with good brain juice

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grandmother-goblin · 3 months

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Just Watch the Fireworks

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: It was supposed to be a sweet, innocent date. That was, until Astarion decided he wanted to have some fun with you while you were very much still in public.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut.

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Smut, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, cuddling, kissing, post Astarion's personal quest, spawn!Astarion.

Firework shows over Grey Harbor happened only a couple of times a year in Baldur’s Gate. Bright, massive, loud displays that boomed over the whole city and illuminated the night sky in dazzling arrays of colors and lights. Usually they marked some sort of holiday or other celebration. Although you weren’t keen on the celebration for this particular occasion, Gortash’s coronation, you were still eager to see the show.

Plus, it was a nice way to end your impromptu date with Astarion. You two had gone out to get some supplies, but upon seeing the night market and posters for the firework show, you decided to stay a while.

Astarion had found a perfect spot for the two of you on a grassy, green hillside just on the outskirts of the city. It was one of the more popular places to watch the fireworks. People dotted the landscape, all sitting on their own little blankets as they looked out over the ocean, waiting for the show to begin.

It was kind of nice to be out with Astarion like this.

Ever since Cazador had been defeated, Astarion had grown much more comfortable being out in the open at night. He seemed more relaxed overall, like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Of course, there were several other factors on both of your minds: the tadpole, the Absolute, the fact that Astarion’s days walking in sunlight were numbered.

But you two would figure it out.

Together.

For now, you wanted to enjoy the night with him and pretend none of your problems existed. Even if it was only for a couple of hours.

As you sat between his open legs, Astarion wrapped his arms around you along with a knitted blanket, cocooning you in pleasant warmth. You leaned your head back against his shoulder with a comfortable sigh, luxuriating in the silky soft material of his shirt. “I bet you’ve seen these shows a thousand times.”

“I have,” he replied matter-of-factly, his cool breath fanning across your neck. You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. “One year, all the fireworks went off at the same time. It was hilarious and I almost hope it happens again.”

You gave a little snort of laughter. “That would cut this date really short.”

“We can find plenty more to do, my love.” Astarion’s fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt and gave your hip an affectionate squeeze. “Now that Cazador is gone, we can do whatever we want. The night is still young.”

“Oh no,” you replied lightly. “I’m turning in for the night after the show is over. I’m exhausted.”

Though Astarion seemed to have plenty of energy, the events of the day had been starting to weigh on you. All you wanted to do after the fireworks display was cozy up in some warm pajamas and snuggle into your bed at the Elfsong Tavern.

Preferably, you would be cuddled up next to Astarion, but you wouldn’t stop him if he had other plans.

Most nights since you had started sharing a room with him, Astarion had been perfectly capable of keeping himself occupied while you slept. Sometimes he would read a book or work on something with a needle and thread, but you almost always awoke to him meditating peacefully beside you.

Other nights, well, he had to hunt. While you were happy to be his donor when he really needed blood, it simply wasn’t practical to let him feed on you all the time. So long as he was discreet, you didn’t mind that he took his hunting to the streets.

With his thumb, he drew idle circles around your hip as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and relaxed into his touch, enjoying the feel of the heavy blanket wrapped around you and the firmness of his chest against your back.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and with a low and husky voice, he said, “I keep thinking about our night in the graveyard.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Which part?”

“The part with you under me,” he muttered against your skin as he slipped one finger beneath the waistband of your pants, “moaning my name as you clawed my back.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Shh,” you said, your eyes darting around at the people sitting on neighboring blankets. “Not so loud.”

“They aren’t paying attention to us.” Astarion placed a reassuring kiss to the side of your head, but he didn’t move his hand. Then he cocked his chin to the starry sky above the harbor. “The show is about to start.”

Sure enough, the first of the fireworks burst into the sky. A splattering of reds and yellows against the inky night sky, the distant sounds of explosive crackling reaching your ears mixing with the sound of excited cheers from the people around you. You watched as the bursts of light shimmered away, blending into the night, just before more fireworks flowered above.

You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned back into Astarion’s touch. Squeezing his arms around you, he pulled your body flush against his. At first, you thought he was just cuddling closer. But then you felt it: a hard ridge nudged that up against your lower back.

You swallowed, but felt heat rising to your face even as you tried to ignore Astarion’s painfully obvious erection. He wasn’t doing anything inappropriate — he was just holding you. With his hard cock pressed against your back.

Gods, was it always so hot at night? What did you even need a blanket for?

Just as you thought about shrugging the blanket from your shoulders, his fingers slipped further beneath the waistband of your pants. “I want to touch you,” he said, his lips brushing against your throat as he spoke. “Just a little bit.”

“Right now?” you asked, keeping your voice so low you could barely hear yourself over the fireworks. Uncertainty and anticipation tugged your mind in two different directions and you shifted slightly, unsure of what to do with yourself.

It had only been a couple of nights since your tryst in the cemetery, and you and Astarion hadn’t been intimate since. Not for any particular reason — there just wasn’t enough time in the day for intimacy with everything going on with the Absolute.

Suddenly very aware of a subtle, yearning, ache between your legs that hadn’t been there a few moments ago, you pressed your thighs together hoping to give yourself some relief.

It was unfair, really, how quickly Astarion could turn you on.

You were supposed to be on a sweet, innocent, date! And he—

“Spread your legs a bit for me, darling,” Astarion murmured, his dangerous teeth delicately nipping at sensitive flesh just below your jawbone.

He was absolutely going to be the death of you.

Glancing around, there were people in every direction you looked. No one was sitting too close, but they were close enough that they could easily hear your conversation had you not been trying to be quiet. But all of them faced straight ahead, their eyes entranced on the bursts of light blooming across the sky.

“Astarion,” you whispered, your voice somewhere between a warning and a whine as Astarion’s fingers brushed over the soft fabric of your panties. “There are people around.”

His hand stilled, and you couldn’t help the tiny, involuntary, tilt of your hips. You could see the flash of his teasing, rakish smile from the corner of your eye. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took one more look around.

Astarion had been right earlier.

No one was paying attention to the two of you.

Shaking your head, you swallowed as nerves and excitement fluttered in your stomach. “But—”

“All you have to do is stay still for me,” Astarion said as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, “and try not to moan my name too loudly.”

Carefully, and as subtly as you could, you let your legs fall open.

A pleased hum rumbled in Astarion’s throat as he pulled your back flush against him. His hard cock was like a brand against your lower back. “Now just watch the fireworks, darling, and no one will know what I’m doing to you under this blanket.”

Kissing your neck, the tips of his fingers slowly, steadily, circled your clit. You let your head fall back against his shoulder with a sigh, your cheeks burning as he touched you.

Gods, he was really going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to finger you in public and…

You didn’t want him to stop.

You breathed in deep, inhaling the sweet piney and citrusy scent of his cologne. A comforting scent, and one that turned you on like no other because it was uniquely Astarion’s. Slowly, your body relaxed into his touch.

For a moment, it was just the two of you and the sounds of fireworks.

“Good girl,” Astarion purred as his hand delved between your legs. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as he teased your entrance, gathering your slickness on his fingertips. Slowly, he slid one finger inside of you. “It’s just me and you right now.”

He touched you leisurely, unhurried strokes. The subtle curl of his fingers made you want to arch into him. It was all too easy to forget yourself when you were with him. When he was touching you like this.

How you wanted to return the favor. You wanted to wrap your hand around that hard length behind you and give him some pleasure as well.

But you couldn’t.

At least, not without exposing you both.

When he pressed another finger inside you, a shaky exhale passed your lips. Your walls clenched around him, as if trying to draw him in deeper. “Astarion, please,” you whispered, not really sure what you were asking for.

But Astarion knew.

Astarion knew exactly how to touch you.

He knew exactly what your body needed to be brought to the edge. Oh, he knew how to make you scream in ecstasy, but he also knew how to make you sigh with pure pleasure. Like how his dexterous hands picked locks, it was like they knew all of your intricacies and exactly how to make you fall apart.

You pressed your lips against the underside of his jaw, stifling your moans against his cool skin. The heel of his palm rocked over against your clit in a steady, consistent rhythm as he shallowly thrusted into you. Glancing down, you could see that the thick blanket around you masked his movements completely.

Sneaky, clever, man.

Of course he knew exactly how to do something like this without being obvious. Although Astarion was far from subtle, he was excellent at not getting caught doing things he wasn’t supposed to.

The only one you had to worry about was yourself.

Your face heated as his movements grew more powerful. Your fingers gripped his thigh under the blanket as your core tightened around his fingers.

His tongue flicked the shell of your ear delicately. “Do you know what I want to do right now?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

Another gasp escaped your lip as he added a third finger, your body stretching to accommodate him. You felt so full, and you wanted nothing more than for him to go deeper. To fill you completely in a way only he could.

“What… what do you want to do?” you panted, fighting the urge to squirm in his arms.

Whatever you did, you would not let yourself get caught simply because you lacked self control.

The heel of his palm pressed more firmly against your clit, providing delicious friction as he fucked your so gently with his fingers. “I want to bend you over, darling,” he said as he picked up speed. “And I want to taste that pretty pussy of yours.”

Oh, by the gods.

He would never.

It was just dirty talk but — the idea of having an audience was so incredibly hot. Especially since there were so many people around, and you couldn’t indulge in such a fantasy here.

The forbidden nature of it just made you want it more.

“I would make you come on my tongue,” he murmured as the hard ridge between you pressed meaningfully against your back. “Only then, would I give you my cock. And I wouldn’t stop until you were screaming my name.”

You were so close. Your entire body was strung tight as your walls clenched around his fingers, wishing for something bigger. Thicker.

Why did you agree to this? You wanted nothing more than to climb on top of him and let him fill you up the way you wanted.

“Gods. Astarion,” you whispered against the scars on his neck. “I’m—”

Your mouth fell open on a sharp gasp as Astarion’s fingers returned to your clit. Astarion captured your lips with his own, drinking in your soft moans as you came undone.

The lights from the fireworks burst behind your closed eyes. The booming display in the sky crescendoed into a deafening roar as the show reached its finale, drowning out your already muffled sighs.

Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you as you rode out your orgasm. Your hips undulated lewdly against his hand as his lips moved against yours. He tasted like sweet wine as his tongue flicked against yours teasingly.

It was only when your heart began to settle that you felt the delicate nip of his fangs on your lips. His fingers, still slick with your arousal, intertwined with yours as he gazed down at you.

When you looked into those gorgeous vermillion eyes, his pupils were blown wide with lust.

Lust, and unmistakable love.

Then his eyes flickered toward the direction of the Elfsong Tavern. “You know,” he said, holding your chin in hand as his thumb swiped gently over your lower lip. “I think we should turn in early after all. What do you say?”

You were nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Oh gods, yes.”

---

Author's Note: This is my first foray into writing anything in second person or anything xReader, so I'm sorry for any mistakes and I hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #x reader #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion fanfic

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beary-rambles · 1 month

Text

Through it all, its still you

r.q: hellooo lovlieee omg i am so inlove with your newest fic with jacaerys, my jaw was on the ground. could I request a fic with jacaerys were it's during the war between blacks and greens and your his betrothed. He goes north and you stay in dragonstone, but then you get taken by the greens. Everyone thinks your dead but you manage to escape and bond with a dragon. then when jacaerys is fighting against the greens, you Show up with your dragon and fight this epic battle. omg I got so carried away sorryyy. maybe with some fluff at the end ?? anyways take care <3

w.c: 4.2k (god i love writing for jace)

c.w: tyrell!reader, written with f!reader in mind but i dont believe theres any mention of gender of reader if so barely, angst, FLUFF! happy ending though it takes awhile to get there, poorly written battle scene, blue fire breathing dragon :3, not proofread

masterlist

You had not known how long you were sitting in the silence of your room. Usually dragonstone, though you had not been there for very long, was booming with life, jacaerys and lucerys arguing with one another and joffrey laughing, the babies crying or laughing at nothing, baela and rhaena chatting together. But today there was nothing but somber silence. Lucerys was dead. Though you did not know him as well as everyone here did, your heart ached at the thought of the young boy being gone.

Daemon and rhaenyra had basically locked themselves in the council room after informing you of the news. You worried for them especially after seeing how angry and heartbroken they looked but the person you worried for most was jacaerys. He was off in the north oblivious to what had been happening here. You felt sick to your stomach as you imagined his face finding out the news. He had confided in you before he left. He worried for lucerys and how he would fare on his trip to storm's end and you helped assure him lucerys would be alright.

You sit in your nightgown clutching hard onto the necklace jacaerys had given you early on into your courtship.

You had been promised to jacaerys when you were very young much to the dismay of alicent and her father. You were your fathers only daughter and due to the fact he had no uncles, no cousins, no nephews and no direct other male family members you were to inherit everything in highgarden once he passed. You were immediately very fond of jacaerys as soon as the two of you met in the keep. Though the two of you did not get to spend as much time together as you were soon taken back to the highgarden after a couple moon cycles. Before you had left the keep however he had given you this necklace. It was a metal carving of a dragon painted in the colors of his dragon vermax. He had told you he hoped while you were apart you could feel protected by him with his dragon and you cried into his shoulder before you were soon dragged off and did not get to see him for many years.

Soon enough your name day came and you turned eight and ten and were granted the ability to go to Dragonstone to meet with jacaerys and begin wedding preparations with rhaenyra. What you nor your father had known is that soon war would strike. You knew tensions were high between the family especially after attending the families final dinner where you help jacaerys place ointment on his cheek after aemond had punched him but you did not think things would turn out so horrid for the family.

So deeply lost in your thoughts you do not notice the quiet footsteps entering your room through an opened window in your room until something a stab punctures your arm and a hand covers your scream before a heavy object slams into your head knocking you out cold. He allows you to sit out cold for a bit, letting your blood pool on the ground soaking your gown and your necklace. While you're passed out the mysterious man scoops you up into his arms, ripping the necklace from your neck and tosses it into the pool of blood before he carefully manages to carry you out through the window and down to an awaiting boat with a couple other masked men who help him chain you down and soon sail away, the image of dragonstone fading farther and farther away.

Only hours later does jacaerys land back on dragonstone hoping to be greeted by you. Happy that he had been able to secure all the alliances for his mother and felt full of pride when he imagined how happy you would be. What he did not expect when he entered the main room was a somber atmosphere, he notices rhaena has fresh tears sliding off her face and baela attempting to comfort her. Joffrey clung to his rhaenyra side also seeming to be crying. He quickly looks over at daemon who is staring right back at him. “What has happened? Where is lucerys? Where is my betrothed? Tell me at once.” rhaenyra makes her way over to him and clings to him, shoving her face in his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” he refuses to be true, it can't be true. But when daemon walks over to the pair and opens up his hand to show the necklace jacaerys had given you all those years ago, covered in your blood.

When you open your eyes the first thing you notice is how much your arm hurts, you groan and grab your arm. The sound of a screeching chair and the quick fleeing of the room meets your ears as you sit up and notice your sitting in a very familiar room. This is the room that you had stayed in during your time in the keep, looking exactly how you left it. A part of you is telling you this is a dream, you reach your hand up to wrap around your necklace your grow frantic as you realize it is not there. You feel around the bed and look upon the dresser next to you but there is nothing. In your haste the door opens and your head shoots up. “You are finally awake.”

“Where is my necklace?” alicent looks at criston next to her who shakes his head, “you did not come wearing a necklace miss.” you groan and immediately try to stand out from bed but immediately feel so dizzy you have to sit back down, your arm throbbing heavily. “What did you do to me?”

Alicent takes a hesitant step closer to you, her arms out as if to comfort you, “you should relax.” “asking me to relax after you kidnap me, are you insane?” you are unable to control your temper as you spit your words at her. Criston immediately clutches his sword and takes a step forward, “that is no way to-” alicent gives him a pointed look and he immediately deflates taking a step back. She hesitantly makes her way to the end of the bed and sits on it looking at you. “I simply wish to speak with you. “So you decide to kidnap me, that makes perfect sense.” you can tell she's irritated at you but does not let it show on her face as she takes a deep breath, a somber look on her face though you cannot tell if it is serious.

“With your fathers passing everything in highgarden has been left to you, we believe it is in your best interest to declare house tyrell for aegon-” “my father is dead?” you cannot handle the influx of emotions you feel as your hand clenches around the space where your hanging dragon should be craving the feeling of the cold metal and sharp edges on your skin. She nods, placing her hand on your knee and for some reason you let her, the look in her eyes tells you she feels sorry having to break this news to you herself. “Yesterday night in his sleep, his final wish was for you to have highgarden. He stated it to be so.” all you can do is look down, your eyes clouding and you begin to crave the presence of jacaerys. Taking you silence as an opportunity to continue alicent begins to speak, “I care, not only about you, but about the future of your house which is why you should declare for aegon-” “you are asking me to declare for him? I knew you were crazy but this is just insanity.”

Though your face is covered in tears it does not hide the furious look you have on your face as you push her hand away from you and hug your knees to your chest. “It is the best path for you and your house my dear you must believe me i only wish the best for you. And should you do this you will be a lovely addition to our family. I am looking for a wife for my son daeron.”

“I am already betrothed. You know this.” she shakes her head and stretches out further on the bed attempting to touch you once again, “you must understand-” “i would rather you kill me than marry your stupid hightower son and declare for that pig wearing a false crown on his head.”

The room goes silent and she sighs and stands, fixing her dress before moving to leave the room. As she stands by the door she turns back to you, “I hope you will one day change your mind.” “I will not.” you quickly spit at her before she and criston leave the room leaving you trapped in there. All you can do is sit and cry in your bed, you miss jacaerys, you miss your father, you even miss dragonstone. You spend that whole day and night in your room praying that jacaerys was alright, you knew it is foolish to wish he could climb though the window to save you but the childish part of you dreamed he would come to your rescue.

His foot taps on the floor in rapid succession. Jacaerys finds he can barely sit still these days. He cannot believe you were ripped from his hands so quickly. Though many expected him to lock himself in his room and cry for days mourning the loss of the love of his life and his younger brother he did not even shed a tear. Even at the funeral for the two of you the worst he got was glassy eyed as he clung onto his brother's robe and your necklace which he has begun wearing. It was as if he became a shell of himself, only speaking when spoken to and only truly wished to speak time planning out the moves of the war with daemon. Rhaenyra grew more and more concerned and distressed over her son as the days passed. Whenever she would go and try to talk to him she would only be greeted by his dead eyes and his emotionless words and she felt as though she lost two of her sons not just the one.

Due to his erratic emotions, Jacaerys could not decipher how he felt. Grief? Anger? Sadness? Spite? All of the above? He had no clue. But in his mind he had no time to feel anything. He had a duty to make sure his mother won this war and he could deal with his feelings later. He tried to ignore that heart clenching feeling everytime he wrapped his hand around the dragon necklace. The selfish part of him believes you are still alive, in his defense there was no body, just a large pool of blood soaking the floor, the room had been bare and mostly untouched which led daemon to conclude it happened without and fight and quickly. If you were truly dead it gave him a bit of piece you had not been put through any sort of torture or torment as daemon seemingly had put halenas kid through when he sent out blood and cheese.

He has many regrets and will hate himself for the rest of his life, he let his mother down, he was a bad brother and worst of all he failed to protect you, the one he had sworn to protect forever. He wont allow himself to mourn you, or mourn anyone for that matter. The only thing that mattered was the war and when daemon once again called him in the council room he soundlessly followed. He would at least avenge you in any way he would. He wanted them to feel the pain they had put him through, they put his mother through, he wanted to hurt them so badly he could barely contain himself but he must be rational despite how hard it is. Whenever he looked at the dragon on his neck he could only think of you and he grew angrier with himself. He had to avenge you. No matter what.

The days in the keep are boring. For the first few days all you do is sit on your bed crying. Whenever a guard entered your room to bring you food you never ate any of it. The only time anything happened all you could hear was screams and cries but they were so distant you did not know what was happening. You only found out when aemond had come to integrate you about the incident. Asking if you had somehow let this ‘blood and cheese’ into the keep so they could kill one of halenas kids. You were mortified and said you had no clue. After a bit of pushing and reports from the guards who were stationed outside your room there was no way you could have done anything and they promptly left. The rest of your days continued the same with you not if so barely eating until it became too much and alicent showed up to your room. “You must eat.” you scoff, you had finally gained your strength back and were sitting at one of the tables in the room with a book in your hands. “I don't need to do anything.” She sighs and looks around the room. You take notice of the box she holds in her hands along with a bowl of what looks like fruits in it. “What is that?”

She looks down at her hands and lets out an oh before looking back at you hopefully. “I.. was hoping you would play cyvasse with me..” she trails off and for a moment you notice how young she truly is. Much closer in age to not only yourself but her oldest son and all of her children forced into a role she is not fit for. A wave of sympathy falls upon you and she continues, “i have no one to play with, aemond is far too busy haelena cannot bring herself to get out bed and obviously aegon does not know how to play-” “ill play.”

She looks at you shocked as if she had been expecting you to turn her away and tell her no. “Though I should warn you that I have not lost a game in a very long time, I am a fierce competitor.” a smile graces her face and she nods quickly moving to sit down across from you and sets up the board. “I have not lost in forever either dear. I'm sure I will not lose to you.” you close your book and toss it towards the bed and shake your head at her. “I would like to see you try.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you two begin to play. So lost in the game you occasionally pop a piece of fruit in your mouth. She was right, she is very tough competition but you can hold your own against her causing her to sit and think for long periods at a time. “It's a bit stuffy in here don't you think?” you lift your gaze from the board and up at her as you shrug, “if it is i do not notice it.” as you look back down at the board she hums and stands to open up one of the windows before moving to sit back down. “I hope you have thought about what I told you.” you sit still for a moment before moving on of your pieces and leaning back to look at her. “I have.” a hopeful look crosses her face, “and i will continue to tell you no.” she sighs and stares down at the board. Many more silent moments pass before the door slams open and the two of you look at it alarmed.

“Ser Cole, what's wrong?” “You must come quickly with me, my queen, the prince has found something.” she stands alarmed and rushes towards him before looking back at you for a moment, “we will continue this later.” All you can do is nod at her and watch as the two of them rush out the room. You lean back on the chair and close your eyes and sigh. You wonder how long she planned to keep you here. You felt as though you made it rather obvious you never planned to submit to Aegon or marry her son but it seemed she still held on hope you would. In the midst of your thoughts a breeze brushes you and you jump out of your seat and look over to the window. It was still open. You walk over to the window and look out, this was your chance. You could escape, surely it could not be so hard to scale down the castle. You could die but so what? The longer you resist them the closer you get to one day just being executed and they put someone who would listen to their every whim in the high gardens. You look around the room and throw a spare cloak which had been in the room and look for anything valuable to sell before you say a small prayer to yourself before climbing out of the room and beginning to descend the castle.

It is not easy, if anything you would think this is impossible by the way your hands, knees and feet begin to bleed the way you continue to scrape along the harsh walls of the castle. You don't dare look down out of fear someone will notice you or you’ll realize you've made no progress and get so frustrated you cry. After what felt like hours you stumble and fall to the ground and struggle to pick yourself up. Looking around you, noticing you are in an empty alley. You had really escaped. You stand frozen for a moment unsure of what to do. You had not thought this far. Maybe you could try to make it to high garden but they would surely notice your absence before then and high garden would be the first place they look for you. You decide you’ll sell the stuff you had managed to take first and figure out the rest later. When you had made it to one of the stands the seller was shocked to see all the real gold items you had with you and was more than eager to offer you a large chunk of change for it. Now that you had the money you had no clue what to do but as you were walking you hear a group of people discuss that they planned to travel out of the city and decide you could try and hitch a ride with them.

“And why would we let you ride with us little girl?” you show him the large amount of gold you can just acquired and his eyes widen as he looks at it. “How much?” “I would give you all of it,” he looks alarmed, “you desperate to get out of the city?” “more than you know.” later that same day you were sitting in the back of their large carriage. One of the girls in the group offered you a change of clothes and fixed up your wounds for you question free. You watch the city fade away from you and let out a breath of relief as you finally pull down your hood allowing the group to see your face. “Hey aren't you that hightower girl?” you look over to your right at the man from earlier and shrug, “maybe.” If he wants to ask more questions he does and goes back to fiddling with his blade and you begin to pray once more for jacaerys and that the gods will be kind enough to allow the two of you to reunite.

You travel with them for a couple days. You find out they are actually a traveling circus who is struggling to make business right now due to the war. They are kind people who don't ask you unwanted questions and provide you with a ride and some food and that's all you can ask for. One day it's the middle of the night and you have all taken camp near a mountain. You grow more and more restless to get as close to dragonstone as possible to try and see jacaerys but you know these people are being more than kind to you so you must not push them. “I heard a rumor about this place,” jim, the guy you had talked to the first day he seemed to be the leader of this little group, says to jane, the woman who helped you fix your wounds takes a sip from her flasks and gives jim an unamused look. “Jim if this is one of your fairytales again,,,” “no no no seriously, apparently there's a dragon around these parts.'' This immediately catches your attention and you gaze at jim. “Seriously?” Jim nods confidently and Jane shakes her head tapping you on the shoulder, “don't believe him pumpkin he's always talking shit.” “i am being serious-”

A loud roar off in the distance causes the three of you and the rest of the camp to grow completely silent. Jim mouths a ‘told you’ in your direction and you watch as a dragon flies over your head and out to a field not too far away from where you all were camped. “We're gonna die.” you hear one of the other guys say and all you can do is admire the dragon. It's pure white with piercing blue eyes that seem to be looking directly at you. You feel completed to go towards it, its gaze luring you in as you stand at the alarm of Jane and Jim and begin to walk off. “Where the hell are you going?” you reach in your pocket and toss and large bag of coins you had at jim, “im going to claim a fucking dragon! Or die trying!”

The morning came and the blacks had finally managed to put a pin on where one of the large green camps were and we're currently stationed to ambush them. Jacaerys sat wordlessly on his dragon as baela sat on her next to him and called his name causing him to look over at her. “I hope you know she would not resent you. When you were gone you were all she could talk about. She couldn't hate you, it is not possible.'' He just stares at her and opens his mouth as if he wished to speak but he couldn't and all he could do was turn away so as to not get choked up. He hoped she was right, that you could not hate him because he fears if you did it would kill him. He clutches the necklace once more before the call is made to charge and he flys up with his dragon to fight. Despite the fact it had been an ambush the greens seemed way more prepared to fight than they had been expecting and the situation grew more and more dire as the fight went on.

As if it was a grace from the gods he heard a roar off in the distance and prayed it had not been aegon or aemond heading there way but when he turned his head and saw a white dragon? When close enough a wave of blue fire came out of its mouth to douse the greens. He could not see if the dragon had a rider due to its erratic movements but soon enough the dragon flew by him and he felt himself freeze. His betrothed. The one he feared he had lost. You. Y/n Tyrell. On a fucking dragon. Soon after your arrival the greens begin to retreat, unable to over power your dragon and its blue fire. Once the tides had settled and people began to cheer he quickly began to move towards where you were and you also rushed off your dragon and ran towards him, “jacaerys!” He grabs your face and kisses you with all his heart. He hopes you can feel the force of his love pouring into you with every move his lips make and with the grip he holds your face on, so gentle yet strong as if he knew he was holding the whole universe in his hands. It was not just any universe it was his universe and as you two pull away he can barely breathe. “You're alive?” you nod and peck him on the lips, “i will never leave you my love.” he finally feels all the emotions he's held back crash into him and he hugs you so tightly as if he fears you'll slip from his grasp should he let go. You feel him begin to cry and stroke his hair as you close your eyes and find yourself crying too. “I was so scared you had,,” “shh do not even speak it. I am here, I promise and I am not going anywhere.”

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jenosfairygirl · 4 months

Text

y/n being fucked by haechan and jeno after dance practice.

(this ones a little longer- bc I forgot to upload it <3- enjoy)

"that's a wrap everyone" the choreographer shouts loudly with her voice booming and echoing off dance room walls.

you had been invited by jeno to watch the boys dance because they had a huge award show performance coming up and jeno was ecstatic for you being there, giving you puppy eyes when he first made the proposal.

mark filled the room loudly with his laugher over something jaemin and renjun had said, but you where to distracted watching jeno to pay attention to their conversation.

he sported black sweat shorts and over sized while t-shirt today, with a low baseball cap covering his cool silky black hair. jeno decided he wanted to grow his hair out in a shaggy like cut for your likes sake. it made you absolutely feral.

haechan notices you sitting on the floor and walks his way over you holding out a bottle of water, you notice this and glady accept the cool drink from the boy. haechan was one of the most cherished and loved members, so how could you resist?

"haechan, jeno- where going to go watch a movie at chenle's, wanna join us?" jisung says loudly with his deep voice bouncing off the walls.

by this time, most of the staff & dancers had left and the only people are where their personal management and the boys themselves.

"hmm im going to stay behind with jeno for a bit- ill meet you guys there" haechan says while plopping himself right next you against the cool glass mirror.

mark didn't question haechans repsonse and the rest of dream piled out the door with marks laughter following suit.

jeno went to back to practicing in the center of the dance floor, and you couldn't help but admire his physique.

you kept staring at him- biting your lip and squirming slightly until you where abruptly snapped out your thoughts.

"helllooo- earth to y/n...hellooo" haechan states waving his hand in your face.

"im sorry haha, I got lost in thought" you say, adjusting your lower half, feeling your thighs ruled with wetness.

"no sweat haha, if I where you i'd look too" he says staring off at jeno like a wildness thought.

you feel the wetness in your thighs grow- you never had thoughts of other dream members until jaemin and now...haechan? I mean he was like your best friend.

you ignore what he says and stand up to stretch only for haechan to reveal your embarrassing mess on the floor.

"uh..y/n, did you uhm.." he trails off, staring down at the wet spot left on the cream colored dance floor.

"oh my god" you say softly, with your pinkish cheeks heating up with embarrassment, you then cover up your face with your hands and slightly chuckle to yourself.

jeno notices and makes his over to you both - just to also see the same wet spot on the floor- "this is so embarrassing" you mutter quietly.

jeno and haechan shoot deep eye glances at each other then haechan lets out a low deep chuckle.

"hmm you know y/n, I know all about last week" he says standing up making his way over to meet you and jeno.

you look at jeno and shoot him the 'oh no you didn't spill' look, but to your surprise jeno grabs you by your arm and presses your body against his-with your ass against his bulge.

he was so hard, so thick and his cock was practically coming out of his shorts.

you where now facing haechan- a horny embarrassed mess- with your hair falling in front of your face.

haechan slowly stands over you, using his hand to slide your hair behind your ear, grabbing you by your chin with soft delicate fingers.

he bends down and inches himself near until his warm soft lips are touching your ears. you felt the warm breath come from his mouth and that sent tingles and shivers down your spine.

"jaemin couldn't stop talking about tight you where" he says softly and deeply -making you squirm between the two men.

"je-jeno" you slightly moan. you could feel his dick poke out of his pants, with your free hand you grab it and began stroking the boy behind you, hearing his breath hiss as he feels your cold hand on his angry hot tip.

"do you want me and haechan to fuck you baby? do you wanna see how much of a slut you truly are?" jeno spits in your ear- making you moan instantly. you nod your head profusely and slightly begin begging under your breath.

"hmm I can't wait to see what you look like bouncing on my cock baby" haechan whispers softly in your other ear.

jeno then quickly slides his hot hands under your hoodie- grabbing your tits and feeling your nipples harden. he then begins kissing your neck roughly- biting and sucking every area, letting everyone know you where his.

"hmm let me see how wet you are pretty girl" haechan spits roughly- he then yanks your shorts down, only to find out- today you weren't wearing any underwear

"no panties baby?" jeno asks deeply still continuing to play with your tits.

then without words you see haechan get on his knees in front of you, spreading apart your sticky wet thighs your honey, he then kisses up your legs making his way past your knees and biting your thighs. the warm wet salvia from haechans mouth made a even bigger mess as he began working his soft bites and kisses near your pussy.

with jenos dick still in your hand- you speed up, jacking him off at steady yet fast pace. jeno moans in your ear and lifts up your hoodie to expose your tits to the cool air of the room.

"fu-fuck please- fuck me please" you stammer out- almost crying due to the edging your enduring.

you then feel haechans mouth on your pussy- sucking and laping circles into your clit as fast as possible.

you let out a soft yet harsh moan, squeezing jenos dick in your hand- begging for some time of stimulation from them.

"fuck this-" jeno states, undoing his tangle around you- taking away haechans mouth from your throbbing core.

"what do you have in mind?" haechan says to jeno- now laying down on the cold floor- stroking his long fat cock.

you never thought in a million years that haechans dick would be so long and big..would it even be able to fit inside you?

"on top of him-now" jeno spits at you- grabbing you by the back of your neck and nudging you towards haechan.

you do as you where told and climb on top of him, feeling dick right at the entrance of your pussy.

you then feel jeno behind you- bending you over in doggy with his cock at your ass entrance.

"baby..I-" you mutter softly- not being all so sure you can handle the boys at the same time.

you feel jenos weight fill itself into your back and his warm sweet breath near your ear-

"if you want us to stop, just say the word baby" he says kissing your ear again softly.

you open your eyes- not even noticing they where closed to see haechan staring at you.

his cheeks where pink, his hair was all over the place and you notice his pupils where dilated. you never looked at him this way, but my god did he look delicious.

without warning-both boys slip there cocks into you, stretching you out and filling you up like a donut.

they then begin to move in rhythm like drummers- with one bouncing after the other.

the sounds of their balls smacking against you and your moans filled the air. you look up to see yourself sandwiched between the two men and that sent you into over drive.

"mo-more. please h-ha-harder" you moan out loudly, with your nails digging into haechans shoulders to keep your stable.

"mm you like this don't you? you're such a fucking slut my god" haechan mumbles while sucking your nipple. you bounce yourself fast aghast the boys- feeling jenos finger tangle themselves in your hair. he yanks your head back to force your eyes land on the mirror in front of you.

"look at yourself. getting fucked by me and my best friend" jeno spits putting his fingers around your throat and squeezing roughly.

"god- fuck! can I cum- please" you beg softly while still bouncing at full speed. you arch your back more so you can feel them go deeply inside you, you let at cry at how good it felt.

the slapping of wetness and moans filled the air and it made you see stars. you couldn't help but start begging for it- begging for something- you wanted to be like this for all of eternity.

"can I cum inside you doll?" haechan asks while slapping your nipple roughly, you nod and muster out "please- please please" you moan

"who's slut are you? who do you belong to?" jeno asks while restlessnessly pounding into your ass.

'you! jeno I belong to you!" you scream loudly- noting that anybody would be able to hear you at this point.

"fuck- fuck im gonna cum-" haechan says squirming beneath you then he using your hips slamming into your pussy at maximum speed.

"fuck- ah shit" jeno moans- noting that he's about the cum- grabbing your ass cheeks roughly- spreading them apart to look at his and haechans dick going in and out your abused holes.

"cum for us us baby" they both said simultaneously and with those words it sent you spiraling.

you felt the world around you collapse and your vision became nothing more than a hazy bubble with birds and fairies dancing around your head.

you felt their cocks twitch inside of you filling you lip with their warm sticky cum.

they stop moving with their dicks still inside you-using this moment to catch their breath and wipe the sweat off their foreheads.

haechan was the first to remove his dick- with the exist of it leaving a 'pop' sound as it it was opening champagne for the first time.

jeno then followed suit- taking his cock out of you- leaving you trembling and shaking in pain.

you then plop yourself into haechans warm chest- to tired to move your body or speak at all.

you feel jeno grab you and slowly begin to put your clothes on. he slides his over sized white tee and slides it onto you- filling your aura and bubble with his warm vanilla/burbon scent.

you snuggle in the shirt and you fall asleep in jenos arms.

"I hopes she's going to be okay.." haechan asks while fixing his pants and slides on his pants walking towards his duffle bag full of stuff.

"she'll be fine" jeno states in a shy tone-while stroking your pink flushed cheeks.

"nothing a little sleep can't fix" he says while holding you closely, kissing your forehead at you laid there fast asleep.

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct

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serosluv2 · 4 months

Note

obsessed bf x pretty gf trope hcs w sero & shoto pls & ty 😁😁 (seperately pls)

It’s only 7 months late but here u go anon 😘

a/n: I wrote this in an hour in the bathtub so if it is shit- don’t tell me bc I’m just getting back into writing 😭😭

Shoto Todoroki

He fits this trope so well.

He is THEE resident pretty boy of UA so it makes perfect sense that he has the prettiest girl in all of Japan. (The world)

He is the teeny weeny ist bit dense on like how to take proper photos of you for the ‘gram but trust that he WILL be searching up everything about lighting and angles and exposure and zoom- all that nonsense.

If you’re a social media girly he may leave like one or two comments. He isn’t the best about being outwardly obsessed with you, he is all about those private small moments. Not being able to take his eyes off you anywhere. Always needing to be beside you. If he can’t be with you then trust he is texting you at every free moment and expects a response within 5 minutes.

He loves shopping with you and helping you pick out outfits or jewelry or how to style your makeup that day. He has no real opinion on what looks better tho he just loves seeing you get all prettied up. (Yk that tiktok where the girl is trying to decide on a dress color and her bf is just like “wtv u want mama u look breathtaking in both” ?That’s him.)

I feel like he doesn’t really buy you anything in the beginning of your relationship bc he doesn’t really see the point/value or something in that BUT all it takes is for kaminari to get you some product you’ve been wanting for a while for secret santa and seeing how touched you were by the gesture sends him into over drive:

“OH MY GOD! KAMI!!” You exclaim- wrapping your arms around him. “How did you know? I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Shoto notices how big your eyes got and the slight blush on your cheeks from excitement and he feels, something unpleasant. Jealousy? Envy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is he doesn’t like how grateful you’re acting toward the blonde. I mean sure, he got you something nice you’ve wanted but that’s not his job (he just so happened to get you for secret santa so he kind of had to get you something) he’s not your boyfriend only your boyfriend- HIM- should be gifting you stuff. Then he kinda has a “ohh.” Moment and realizes he has never really gotten you anything just because.

Anyways after that whole interaction he is getting you anything and everything you look at for more than a second. You keep looking at some necklace at the store? Bought. He sees you liking tiktoks about girls getting flowers? Now you’re getting a bouquet every date night. Does he himself have money? No, but that No.1 hero daddy sure does. And let’s be honest he kind of owes shoto for making his childhood - for lack of a better word- awful.

In conclusion, Shoto loves his pretty girl and will do anything she asks of him without question.

Hanta Sero

Clawing at my cage for this man.

Now sero has been… infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you one faithful morning. You were ordering at some coffee shop he passes by on his way to school and just one glance had him stopped dead in his tracks. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, your face in general because holy shit- you were gorgeous. Straight out of a magazine. He quickly took notice of the little embellishments you made to your uniform.. uniform? The same one Mina has. OH MY GOD YOU GO TO UA AND HE HAS NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?

He literally cannot stop thinking about you and boom you appear again in the halls. Your going the opposite direction has him with your friends and he sees you all have a little cafe cup. Did you buy them all a drink before class? So you’re stupidly gorgeous and nice. Great, he, for sure, has no chance with you now.

But oh that’s where he is wrong.

When you guys start dating he actually cannot believe it. He is very guarded at first because- now it’s my personal hc that sero is a bit insecure- he can’t fathom how you, YOU, would actually want to date someone like…him.

But once those walls come down he doesn’t shut up about you. Seriously all his friends are so annoyed:

“Good god soy sauce if you mention your little girly friend again I’m hurling you across the city.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have a girl as pretty as mine- don’t worry baku-man, I’m sure one day some poor person will take pity on your soul.”

Sero did in fact get hurled across the city that day.

Now where he differs from Shoto is that this man is a GOD with a camera. He has that artistic eye and is able to capture you being your baddest/cutest/authentic self.

Literally ya’ll

He also has a good sense of style. He never thinks you look bad in one thing versus another but he will take into account the vibe of where you’re going and what’s you’ll be doing and give his opinion based on that. Because he grew up with sister and knows how to get around the “which one looks better?” Type question without hurting you.

Now sero doesn’t have money to spoil you senseless but what he does have is the forever lasting instinct to put your comfort above his own. It’s freezing and you didn’t wear a jacket because “a hoe ever gets cold”? Don’t worry sero will give you his and be visibly growing icicles on his body to keep you warm. Feet hurt from those impractical shoes? He’s caring you all the way home even if he is still terribly sore from a killer arm workout the day before with kirishima. A no a mudy puddle and you’re wearing your new white shoes :(! Well sero is laying his jacket down over it or simply caring you over the puddle. He isn’t the type to roll his eyes at how “ridiculous” or “spoiled” you’re being. You are y/n freaking l/n. He’ll do whatever you need to make sure nothing in your life goes wrong.

He also is the type to spam comments in your TikTok or Insta post and makes all his friends do the same. Not that you need it- he just loves fueling your ego.

#woohoo first day back after my 6 month leave #not that any of yall care #also I started watching jjk (yeah in late I know)#sero x reader #sero hanta #mha headcanons #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki

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miintsprigz · 4 months

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Mercs x GN! reader who drew them (ALL NINE!)

This goes out to everyone, not just my artists.

But yes, all my fic material is extremely self-serving.

Big thank you to a dear friend of mine for helping me with mercs like Pyro, Engie, Sniper, and Medic when I got stuck.

VERY LONG POST INCOMING

Scout

• Well, he IS an artist himself, that’s probably how the two of you first started talking.

• Ran past one day, only to immediately throw it in reverse and go “hey whoa whoa whoa when were you gonna tell me you could draw?!”

•Naturally…it was only a matter of time.

•He was always so encouraging about your stuff, so…after working up the guts, you showed him.

• “Yo wait a sec…you drew me??? I…” For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been drawn—not even a self-portrait. For as cocky as he seems…well…

•He just…stares for a second. Marveling. Is that…really what I look like?

• “Do you like it?” “Abso-friggin-lutely, (Y/N)!!! You kiddin’? I don’t even look that beautiful in real life! And ya know, that’s sayin’ somethin!”

•You laugh, and he pulls you in so fast to hug you that you weren’t even ready. “But seriously…thank you. I’ve uh…I’ve never been drawn before. You did amazing. …you know I gotta draw you now, right?”

•And he does. He’s a complete perfectionist about it—he feels like he can’t replicate you, you’re one of a kind. (He actually does very well! But he’s so shy showing it to you…d’aww.)

Pyro

•Pyro was more of a doodler than anything. They loved color. And of course, you could resonate with that.

•Sometimes you’d draw designs and let them color it in. They giggled all the while…they just adored how creative you were.

•Being the most secretive about their appearance, they’re hard to nail down…even for you. Pyro is most themself in their full gear. You, out of everyone, know that best.

•So you took a…different approach. Abstraction.

•Their hands, the ones that so often seemed to be magnetically drawn to you.

•Their back, the strong shoulders when they just felt content to sit in the quiet with you.

•The brief glimpses you’d caught of their face—split second instances in shadows—those were easy, yet challenging. Their brief sightings made them easy to be abstract about, and yet, it made them harder to actually nail down.

•Conjuring a rather fittingly smoky composition, it had a dreamlike feel to it. Pure Pyro.

•You were only a bit hesitant to show them, but when they did see…they surprised you a bit.

•You could see them straighten up a bit…surprised. They craned their neck a bit, looking closer, gently curling their fingers over yours to hold the snapshot-like portraits with you.

• “Hmmm…” There was a sort of…tranquility to them. So unlike your little sparky fella.

• “Do you like them?” Immediately, the edge of their mask bumped against your forehead—your own personal way of kissing. That was all the answer you needed.

•They couldn’t verbalize it, but…seeing beauty in images of themself. The same beauty they saw all around them…it made them see themself in a way they never had before.

•And of course, it made them fall even deeper in love with you, the one who cared for them so much that they took the time to look so deeply.

Heavy

•Heavy is a very intelligent man, but he’s never had much gift for creative work. Even his insults were kind of just the same thing repeated, when the other mercs made it an art form.

•So he couldn’t help but be enraptured by your artistic endeavors and how much work you put into them.

•He loved to see you covered in your medium of choice, your passion for it. Made him lovesick. How lovely you were doing what you loved.

•If he could paint, he would have wanted to paint that. So he could look at it forever.

•So of course, imagine his delight when you decided to draw him!

• That roaring laugh you so enjoyed boomed immediately, just elated.

•“Ohhhh…look at that! You captured me perfectly! Beautiful!” You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

•“Can Heavy keep this?” “Of course you can, hon.” This warranted a sudden barrage of kisses to your face, which cracked you up of course.

•“Very happy to have such talented artist as yourself to love. But to me? You are most beautiful. In all the world.” Despite being more eloquent in his native language, Heavy could still get you to turn red. “Oh gosh…” “Is true!”

Demoman

•Tavish had always been a pretty sentimental fellow. He really did enjoy artwork, but didn’t talk about it much.

•Once he discovered that you were an artist, he was over the moon. Finally, he felt, he could talk to someone about art without them possibly poking fun.

•He’d never go in your sketchbook unless you allowed him to, but he always looked with such admiration in his eyes. “That’s bloody brilliant. So long as ya luv it, never stop doin’ this. Cuz I’ll never stop lookin.”

•One day, you told him you had a surprise for it. “I dunno if I like surprises…” “Oh trust me, Demo,” you chirped, “I think you’ll like this one.”

•As you held up the finished product, his mouth went agape. Almost instantly, he began to smile.

•“Well aren’t you just the sweetest!! That’s me there???” “Yes, love. I uh, I hope that you like it.” His gaze shifted over to you, and you could see his eye had grown somewhat misty.

•Demo was at a loss for words. He had never thought of himself as particularly good-looking, certainly not good enough to be drawn. And yet. You had drawn him. Drawn him very well. And he liked how he looked. Was that how you saw him?

•“Aw, Tav…you okay??” He blinked quick, trying to keep composed.“Never better…c’mere, you…”

•Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a kiss, just about taking your breath away.

•“My little artist…ya made me look so good.” You caught him rubbing his eye a bit. “I just drew what I saw.” “Well, ya see a work of art in me. And that? That’s the best surprise of all.”

Engineer

•With how much designing went into his machines, Dell could always appreciate the skills of an artist. So when he learned that you were one, well, that only sweetened an already sweet deal.

•You were a little self-conscious at first about him watching you work. You tended to just work parallel to one another, both lost in your own stuff.

•You’d sometimes stop what you were doing to follow his hands as he put the pieces together, fingers wandering as they looked for the correct tool.

•When the inverse happened though—when Engie watched you work—he admired your spontaneity. You could start off with a total wild card and somehow managed to pull it all together and make it work, in a way he never could have come up with.

•Being rather rigid in his own trade, that was something Dell couldn’t help but be dazzled by. Very smart man for sure, but rather by-the-book. Not like you. He saw genius in the way your mind worked.

•So, one day, as the two of you perused each other’s handiwork a bit, you shyly revealed the piece you’d made of him—hard at work on an updated sentry model.

•His lips parted a little like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

•“I know it’s a little rocky…I’m not the best at drawing machinery.” Gently, he took ahold of the sketchbook and gave it a soft tug, nonverbally asking for permission to hold it. You let him.

•As he looked closer, a warm smile crept across his face. “Well, well…wouldja look at that. That’s me alright.” He chuckled heartily, but you realized it was from admiration, not amusement.

•“Look at you, (Y/N)! Saw me all covered in dirt an’ said ‘yeah, I can make art from that’. I love it…shucks, darlin’, I can hardly get my eyes off of it.”

•He looked back at you, still all aglow, only to find you blushing to the point of near luminescence. “Aw, c’mon now honey…no need to be all shy. You’re incredible, ya know that?”

•An arm slunk around your shoulders, pulling you fast to his side, quickly pecking the top of your head. “I love it, and I love you.”

Soldier

•Soldier was a brave man, that he was confident in. But even he was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t the sharpest.

•Anything he’d ever drawn looked like kids’ stuff, so to see what you could make? It blew his mind.

•Jane tried not to stare while you drew—you’d gotten all nervous when you’d caught him, and he was trying to be courteous—but he couldn’t deny how it captivated him.

•“Whatcha workin’ on now?” “I’m drawing those two goofs.” You motioned to the Spy and Scout bickering as they often did. “Why them, of all things?” “I just like capturing the moment sometimes.”

•One day, as you sat while he drilled the rest of the team, you started to do just that. You found it hard not to chuckle just a little as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

•Sure, you got their annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be pulled in by Jane’s excitement and hot-bloodedness.

•“Seemed pretty lost in your work there, or I woulda asked you to join in.” A strong hand ruffling your hair snapped you out of your daze. “Capturing the moment again?”

•“Uh-huh. I think this is my best one yet.” You turned the book around to show him, and you saw his lips part slightly in surprise before he suddenly laughed. “Haha! Look at that! It’s me!”

•You laughed with him, just happy to see him so tickled by it. “I think I really captured you.” “I’d say so, kid! I’d say so…wow.” The amusement gave way to what you realized was…almost awe.

•“I look…strong. Proud.” “Yep.” “…I look good.” “Of course you do.” He nudged his helmet down a bit with his hand, chuckling to himself. From what little bit of his face you saw…was he blushing?

•Imitating him playfully—it was something you two tended to do, he found it cute—you joked, in your best impression of him, “‘Are you going soft on me, maggot??? You’re red as a tomato!’” “Noooo…oh, (Y/N), what am I gonna do with you?”

•He caught the side of your face softly and pecked you on the cheek. “But…really. Thank you, sweetheart. I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

Sniper

•Truthfully, Mick had never given a lot of thought to the arts before he’d met you. What really caught his eye was the amount of time you put into it.

•Sniper knew better than anyone that holding still, completely focused on your task, being all but absorbed in it…that was respectable.

•The fact that he could leave for work and come back to find you in the same spot? It was just very attractive to him.

•You stopped by to watch him sometimes, very discreetly, on less busy days, although he wouldn’t lie, it got him nervous. He trusted in his own skills plenty, but…you weren’t just anyone. He couldn’t have you getting hurt.

•So one day, as he finally wrapped up, he saw you, still hard at work. He didn’t want to interrupt you, but if it was time to go, he wanted to go. Giving you a light pat on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Almost done there, darlin? Quittin’ time.”

•“Just a bit more…there. Perfect. Check it out.” You held up what you’d been working on: a full sketch of him invested in his own work.

•It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he couldn’t help but be amazed. Slightly slack-jawed, he looked up at you, the faintest trace of a smile.

•“Never considered myself the modelin’ type, ‘specially not out here, but…wow. Ya really did it. And I look bloody good, too!” “Well duh!” “Oh, stop—” Oh, that got him. The Aussie was surprisingly easy to fluster once he’d fully grown comfortable, and you loved it.

•“Awww, are you blushing?” “Just a little…now c’mon.” Taking your hand, he helped you up, quickly hugging you around the shoulders, catching you somewhat off-guard.

•“But really. Great job there. Thanks…it’s an honor, ya know that? To be drawn by you?” “Gosh—” “Heh, now you’re the one goin’ all red.” “Oh, stop—”

Medic

•The good(?) doctor first learned of your artistic prowess when he caught you trying to draw the charts he had on his wall. “Ooh! Very impressive.”

•Medic could do a lot of things, but drawing wasn’t really one of them. He couldn’t resist watching you work, even though he knew it was a bit touchy.

•“Poetry in motion, Liebe. Really.” Simp. “Oh, come on—” “I mean it! You have such precision, such grace…it’s a sight to behold!”

•So of course, when you were working on something that you absolutely would not let him look at, he wanted to see even more.

•“I promise that whatever it is, I will find it as beautiful as you!” “It’s not that, silly—it’s supposed to be a surprise!” He seemed almost sulky about it…it was kind of cute, although you did feel a bit bad.

•Eventually though, it was done—him, with Archimedes on his shoulder. “Okay, honey, you can look now.”

•One hand comes up over his mouth, audibly gasping. “Is that…? It is!!! Haha!”

•You had never seen him this happy, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N)! Look at that…and Archimedes too!”

•Perhaps unsurprisingly, he brings the bird out to show him too. It’s hard to gauge the response from a dove, but the tranquil cooing seems to suggest that he enjoys it.

•The doctor catches you off-guard as he sweeps you into a kiss. “Oh…danke, Schatz (treasure). May I keep this?” “Of course~”

•Best believe this man is showing your art off to EVERYONE who he treats, going on and on about what an incredible artist and person you are.

Spy

•This guy is a man of culture, he can appreciate good art. And good artists, wink.

•But in all seriousness, your attention to detail was incredibly attractive to him. After you’d been together for a while, the two of you would sit in his smoking room and relax together once the work day was over.

•Sometimes he’d be off to the side just doing his own thing, reading, but other times he’d actually sit beside you and watch. There was an intimacy to it, one you took time to grow fully comfortable with, but he was patient.

•So when you were very secretive one night, it caught his attention. Nothing slipped past him—not even you. You sensed him behind you surprisingly quickly though, and quickly closed the project up.

•“Shy tonight, are we? So unlike you, mon bijou (my jewel)…” “Hehe…be patient, babe, it’s not done yet.”

•His arms wrapped around you from behind briefly…gosh, it was difficult to keep anything secret from this man. “Very well. Keep your secrets…for now.”

•But he respected that you didn’t want him to see it just yet, and so he waited.

•“…Okay, you can look now.” In an instant, he was behind you again. It was hard to even look up at the guy right now, but once you did…there was this sense of wonder in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

•It wasn’t often that Spy looked at himself unmasked for longer than a few seconds—he’d almost forgotten his own face by now. For spies, he reasoned, it was better that way. But the way you had captured every detail of him…

•“Oh, what a handsome devil…wonder who that could be…” Was he trying to brush off his own flustering? Maybe a little.

•You couldn’t help but giggle as he almost hurriedly sat down next to you, quickly drawing you in close as he continued to look. Almost entranced.

•That element of intimacy I mentioned before? It was his turn to feel it now. Not even in a physical way, which is what this Casanova is so used to.

•No, the fact that you had clearly just…looked at his face, so intently. There was something raw and vulnerable to it. And as much as he wanted to look at it even more, his eyes were magnetically drawn to you.

•“I wouldn’t have ever asked it of you, but…I always wondered what it would look like if you drew me. I…”

•Glancing back down, he found that he couldn’t even come up with anything to say. The act of love had rendered him speechless. YOU BROKE HIM OH MY GOSH/j

•“…Do you like it?” Before you could say anything else, you were swiftly kissed, and I mean kissed.

•Spy always looked at you with a sort of passion, but this was different. He had never felt so much love for someone. Felt like a young, hopeless romantic boy all over again.

•“I adore it…and most of all, I adore you, mon cœur (my heart).”

AAAAND IM DONE. WHEW. That was fun!

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mysisters-bike · 7 months

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Eric Harris: Online

We explore Eric's affinity for escapism and his behavior online. Super long post, tl;dr at end.

As a teenager, Eric grew more withdrawn. His interests began to take shape around computers and he was particularly fond of Doom II, a 90’s first-person shooter in which the main character (Doomguy) fights hoards of demons on Earth. Doom II included multiplayer, as did its predecessor, Doom. However, one large development that Eric especially enjoyed was the ability to create custom levels for Doom II.

To this day, Eric’s Doom files (.wad) still roam the internet, somehow miraculously not lost to the sands of time. He seemed to particularly enjoy creating deathmatch levels and would encourage users reading the .readme files for his levels to email him and play with him.

Creating these levels for Doom was a passion project for Eric. He would work carefully on his wads, even going as far to create his own monster death animations. While it’s very easy to create and distribute modifications for most games today, this was an impressive feat in the mid-late 1990s. Computers and access to the internet was still hitting the homefront, albeit in a massive boom. As technology flourished in the home, Eric found a means to channel his creativity.

In the infamous “U.A.C. Labs” level, Eric created two fast-paced levels that incorporate jump-scares, plot-twists, and lots of action. He nearly overloaded one of the areas with a spawn of 150+ some monsters that is triggered by the player coming too close to a key that’s required to access the next area. Eric was very proud of this particular level, writing in the .readme: …This one took a damn long time to do, so send me some bloody credit man!...Authors may NOT use this level as a base to build additional levels. You may NOT change a damn thing with this WAD, if you do, I will blow you up. And it will be cool.

See below: blueprints drawn by Eric in his journal detailing one of his wads. These can be found throughout his writings.

Clearly, Eric was interested in protecting the level’s artistic integrity. This was work he took a great deal of pride in. Eric was described as being interested in pursuing a career in digital development by Brooks, who thought it was feasible he may end up as a videogame designer.

What was it about Doom that Eric enjoyed so much?

For starters, the game was paramount in its offering of gore, metal music, and gameplay. Doom was nonstop action with intriguing stories that could be followed along in both game and book. It is my theory that Eric enjoyed high-paced, high-action activities to stimulate a mind he was not entirely comfortable being alone with. This was also a world in which Eric could control – he could smite down the monsters in his path and he knew what lay around every corner. This may be considered a form of escapism, which is not necessarily new behavior in teenagers. Interestingly, however, there are multiple studies that have been conducted specifically observing the video game escapism phenomenon.

During periods of heightened psychological distress and escapism, the individual increases the amount of online activity, video game play-time, and gambling frequency (Jouhki, Savolainen, Sirola, & Oksanen, 2022). These three behaviors are specifically intriguing as they all provide forms of distraction.

Have you ever been to a casino? There are no windows, therefore, there is no sense of the passage of time. You are inundated by flashing lights, loud sounds, bright colors, and excitement. I once found myself with a drink in hand, sitting at a digital slot machine with interesting animations and upbeat music. It was a penny slot, but I won $20 on my first try. Next thing I knew, my friend and I had spent 5 fast hours playing slots, digital blackjack, and having the time of our lives. I ended up only losing $10 in the end.

Casinos are intended to be a distracting environment that draws in the consumer and traps them for hours of endless stimulation. This is the same idea applied to video games, which are intended to provide hours of entertainment, something humans are constantly in search of. For example, small rodents do not require a television. While providing pet rodents with enrichment is undoubtedly very healthy for them, their enrichment simulates foraging, which is their biological purpose. Humans, now more than ever, rely on entertainment from every angle. It is especially difficult for those going through a psychological hardship to not stimulate their minds. Rather, it can be easier to avoid and escape the difficult and, often, intrusive thoughts. Psychological distress and a method to avoid dealing with such troubles creates the perfect storm within an emotionally unintelligent and unequipped teenage boy.

Eric spending hours building a new level in Doom was simply a way to ease the passage of time. Controlling and manipulating the environment may have provided a sense of control that was not otherwise found in everyday life. In addition to this, Eric understood Doom better than he was capable of understanding his emotions.

To Eric, Doom symbolized something he was not: powerful, strong, and capable. In the basement tapes, Eric and Dylan explain their murderous motivations. Eric references his favorite game: “It’s gonna be like fucking Doom man; after the bombs explode.”

I often argue against the claim that video games were to blame for Eric’s violent behavior and plans despite this evidence. Longitudinal studies have proven that video games do not influence violent crime or behavior. After a 2-year study on Singapore youth, it was concluded that 27 hours of gameplay per day would be required to see any clinical effects or behavioral changes due to violent video games (Ferguson and Wang, 2019). In Eric’s own words, he was fighting himself to separate from his moral compass in order to follow through with the plan he and Dylan had been concocting. In order to do this, he began to think of their plan like it was another Doom level he was crafting. Video games may not be the direct cause of Eric’s violence, but I do believe he used them to justify his violence (to himself).

It was also during this time that the social internet was booming. WebChat Broadcasting System (WBS) and American Online (AOL) began the excitement of site hosting and chatrooms. Personal profiles encouraged a space for teenagers like Eric to freely share their thoughts and interests and connect with others on a scale that had not yet been seen before. Eric took an extremely strong liking to the new social sphere he’d discovered and created multiple AOL profiles and webpages.

Eric even created a webpage to host a series of “Jo Mamma” anti-jokes, crediting himself, Dylan, and Zack Heckler under their respective screen names Reb, VoDkA, and KiBBZ. One of the jokes on their site read: Jo mamma so fat she doesnt even look at the nutrition value tables on the food boxes she eats.....she just buys them and eats them.....cause shes fat...JJJEEYAAAAAA!!!!

Much like people today sharing private thoughts on Facebook or Twitter, Eric was sharing his private thoughts on his own websites. Ranging from “jo mamma” jokes to death threats, Eric didn’t hesitate over-sharing every thought he had on his personal blog.

Online oversharing is an extremely new and modern communicative phenomenon. The scale at which humans are now able to communicate is unprecedented and, frankly, not something humans were ever equipped to be able to do. Eric’s internet presence feels like a primitive version of how a teenager today would dump their opinions and ideas onto Twitter.

On these blogs, Eric would share self-described “missions” in which he and Dylan would test homemade pipe bombs. He described lists of things he hated, desires to kill others, and people he hated. As we have already discussed, Eric would also make mention of Brooks Brown.

Eric would also describe fantasizing breaking into Brooks’s home and urinating on him and his family members and would also, unprompted, share Brooks’s phone number in a “mission” post. Eric would share Brooks’s number online on multiple occasions:

…This mission was also liquor free as a result of this person named Brooks Brown (phone number) who tried to narc on us.

A reason he might have shared such tenacious things online was to seek the thrill of seeing what he could publicly get away with or attention from outsiders. Eric might have enjoyed attention from any angle, be it support for his ideals or shock. This attention, no matter where it came from, would still feed his ego. Eric wanted people to see and he didn’t care what they thought.

Studies have shown that individuals who post their own photos or private messages to personal blogs are attempting to construct their desired public identity (Jung, Song, & Vorderer, 2012). As Eric shared more and more deeply personal thoughts, he was further crafting the public Doom-esque image of himself he wanted others to see.

Eric also displayed a troubling tendency to overshare online. Have you ever scrolled on your social media timelines and found a post that was just unsettlingly personal and wondered, Why on Earth would anyone want to share that publicly?

The tendency to overshare just stems from an overall need for attention. Social media provides a very easy way to continuously farm serotonin. Consistently sharing ideas and thoughts into a space where others can very easily validate them can almost serve as catharsis for a large amount of people. However, oversharing on social media has actually been discovered to have a direct association with anxiety issues, problematic social media use, and attention-seeking behaviors (Shabahang, Shim, Aruguete, & Zsila, 2022).

I theorize that Eric was mainly searching for attention with each new entry he put forth onto the internet. This was a teenager who had been deprived of the right kinds of attention and would seek to push boundaries in order to get it. His posts were also indicative of his declining mental state. As his posts became darker and darker, it became clear that this was not only Eric’s outlet for gaining attention, but in some areas had evolved into his personal massacre planner.

Read one of Eric's most troubling online posts here (pages 39 and 40)

What would prompt someone to write such horrible things? Why did Eric feel this way? Why did he claim to hate the world? What about his life left him and Dylan feeling like they “had no other choice?” I theorize that Eric projected his loneliness and lack of meaningful relationships onto the rest of the world. After all, how could any of this be his fault? In his mind, something must have been terribly wrong with him to be rejected by everyone.

Why was he so angry? Truly, we can see that Eric’s anger was displaced. I theorize that Eric blamed the world that felt like it had betrayed him so many times for his shortcomings. His self-esteem was incredibly low and he was poor at maintaining friendships. From time to time, he was targeted by bullies and felt like an outsider. Rejected children often react aggressively and underestimate how disliked they are by their peers.

Numerous witness statements describe a distaste or distrust of Eric. One incident after another, people found Eric unapproachable. He kept mutual friends with Dylan, but it’s most likely he was more Dylan’s friend in the circle than he was anyone else’s.

TL;DR:

Playing Doom and creating .wads for the game was a form of escapism for Eric; he could create a world he was in control of

Escapism damages an individual's ability to solve emotional problems; it's not a relief, it's merely "putting off" the problem the individual must solve without teaching any healthy coping mechanisms

Eric was crafting an image of himself that he wanted others to perceive; someone who was strong, badass, in control, and took no names...all of which he did not truly think he was. Eric knew he was just an average teenage boy and he hated it

Eric needed attention from anyone he could find, whether or not those accolades be positive or negative. He was pushing his boundaries to see what he could get away with; to see what he could feel

I've been taking all of what I'm posting from a case study I wrote a while back. I keep forgetting to cite my sources since it's...you know...tumblr.

References:

Ferguson, C. J. & Wang, C. K. J. (2019). Aggressive video games are not a risk factor for future aggression in youth: A longitudinal stud. Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 48. https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10964-019-01069-0

Jouhki, H., Savolainen, I., Sirola, A., & Oksanen, A. (2022). Escapism and Excessive Online Behaviors: A Three-Wave Longitudinal Study in Finland during the COVID-19 Pandemic. Int J Environ Res Public Health, 19(19). doi: 10.3390/ijerph191912491.

Jung, Y., Song, H., & Vorderer, P. (2012). Why do people post and read personal messages in public? The motivation of using persona blogs and its effects on user's loneliness, belonging, and well-being. Computers in Human Behavior, 28(5). pp 1626-1633. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2012.04.001

Shabahang, R., Shim, H., Aruguete, M. A., & Zsila, A. (2022). Oversharing on Social Media: Anxiety, Attention-Seeking, and Social Media Addiction Predict the Breadth and Depth of Sharing. Psychological Reports. https://doi.org/10.1177/00332941221122861

#eric harris #dylan klebold #columbine #true crime #tcc #true crime community #psychology #i have a degree :-|

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queenofallimagines · 4 months

Text

Satan if you were a satanist before you arrived in the devildom

A/n: listennnn in between getting dragged by the Lucifer chat bots, writing two really long fics and having brain worms about this Au I’ve had so many thoughts and Satan has landed in my radar☺️ asmo and Simon are NEXT bc guardian angels are a whole DIFFERENT can of worms

I’m gunna use like ACTUAL satanic lore mixed in w the game lore

Satan:

- okay so boom

- Right off the bat he can tell you are different

- Sitting back waiting to see how you react to everyone

- Takes note you’re much more respectful to him than the rest

- Thought you were walking on eggshells because you were terrified of him but you ain’t scared at all

- You see through all his pranks

- “He’ll probably see that coming a mile away. Try moving it over here Lucifer don’t check there.”

- Color him impressed

- Does see you don’t really freak out like his brothers when he goes into one of his little rage fits

- When he offered to make the pact with you to piss Lucifer off you were really caught at a pass

- Like for one you technically already have a soft pact with him being a devotee

- But also you don’t want to disrespect him by saying no

- Choosing to not get on Lucifer’s bad side because you still do have a mission to do in that attic, soyou politely decline

- “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make a pact with you that isn’t built on a mutual trust and understanding”

- He’s always told you to sniff out a trap and you were NOT falling for it

- Blinded by rage for not getting his way, that’s when he lashes out

- He feels something weird in his chest when he looks at you in that moment but he can’t quite understand it. Like a tugging feeling at the back of his head trying to tell him something

- When you get caught I. The middle of the whole “they’re the same person thing” you just roll your eyes

- “No shit they’re not the same person🙄😒 Satan and Lucifer couldn’t be more different, Lucifer is the morning star and Satan is more tricker than anything :/ crazy how yall don’t do research”

- Ngl he almost fell for you right then and there

- He cannot STAND that especially when humans call anything and everything Satan and refer to him and Lucifer like they’re the same person.

- Looks at you with star eyes for a second before sticking to you like glue. He’s very fascinated with you and wants to study you under a microscope

- Ask you if you’re like Solomon and have been studying for years

- Did you manage to get your hands on some devildom textbook somehow?

- Maybe even some texts form the celestial realm

- “Not really but that would be super cool to read.”

- He himself hates misinformation so you be correcting all the demon brothers with the quickness

- Lucifer is very annoyed and Satan is elated

- Notices you looking at him a lot, like you’re analyzing him

- Ofc he’s blunt and isn’t gunna beat around the bush he asks you what you’re doing starring at him like that

- “It’s really nice to see what you actually look like… if you’re shape shifting all the time and this is the form you stay in full time it’s… nice to see you face to face”

- Confused for a second because he doesn’t often make trips directly to the human world even for a summoning

- “Well I mean, in the human world we don’t actually know what you look like. The only book that has a description of what you looked like and are has the pages mysteriously ripped out and have never been found. I assume that was your doing?”

- Shocked pikachu bc he fr forgot he did that in his younger years

- His mischievous tendencies have been delegated directly to Lucifer, he understands the value of books now

- “Ah,,, I do recall doing that. It would make sense why you’re starring at me so hard.”

- Blushes when you call him a pretty boy

- Like he’s in his room kicking his feet giggling

- You bring him his offerings directly

- He won’t even realize you’re doing deity work with him and is just excited to spend time with you

- Whenever you come back home from class or whatever you give him little things you got in your way back or snacks he likes

- Nobody has ever seen satan smile this much

- Lucifer peeps when it’s your turn to cook dinner you just so happen to favor foods Satan likes and uses ingredients he does to cook too

- Will be very suspicious of you mirroring his behavior

- Satan is none the wiser truly he’s assure at familiar feeling is like some star crossed lovers stuff and you were meant to meet by fates hands

- Has so many cute cat themed things in his room from you

- Lucifer is not liking how you seem to be trying to gain his trust for your own reasons but he can’t sense anything malicious.

- He can’t pinpoint any alternate motive for this behavior

- Satan will not notice until someone points it out to him

- Lucy straight up asks you why you’re getting so friendly with him

- Mammon also chimes in that you seem like you’re sucking up to him, and Satan feels conflicted be he doesn’t like how they’re accusing you but also the fact that you might be just being nice to him because you want something is setting his nerves on fire

- Rolling your eyes you shoot back at Lucifer that you’re just worshiping Satan like you usually do

- The old man is takes aback and Satan is like…. I beg your pardon?😀

- “Satan has been my patron for years now, the only thing that’s different is that I can give him my offerings and ask him for help directly”

- Mammon is chewing the carpet he’s supposed to be your first man!

- Satan is flabbergasted and is searching his memory for this information

- Before he remembers

- “How did I not notice??”

- “I thought you knew??”

- “NO???”

- Dinner is wild bc now asmo asking for embarrassing memories of you

- Rip bc Satan gon tell it ALL😭

- I feel like he’d be the type to keep a log so he might not remember every single face and name because he does fuck with some people who summon him

- Grabs your notebook from his room and starts reciting shit BAR FOR BAR

- “Oh yeah i remember this! You were quite a rowdy child picking fights with everyone. Your temper was awful”

- “YOU DO NOT GET TO FUCKING SAY THAY TO ME!!”

- laughing because he’s taking a stroll down memory lane and he’s dragging you along

- Can feel your anger a mile away, he’s in your ear now more than EVER going “don’t you want to go apeshit?”

- Constantly encouraging you to loose your temper on Lucifer

- He feeds off your rage and it feels almost euphoric to him, because he’s an instigator if anything😭

- “Where the fuck is your rage?? Lucifer was definitely disrespecting you👀👀”

- Exhausting

- Lucifer will get on him about having you up for hours on end reading and studying when you need to sleep

- You will NOT fail any class not on his fucking watch! He’s gunna make sure you excel in this exchange program academically

- Even if he’s not who you ask for things he’s helping you

- “Do NOT as belphie for help with dream interpretation I’ll help you!!”

- Very proud to show you off

- “Y’all see MY human?”

- Mammon is trying not to start problems on purpose

- He will probably bend you over Lucifer’s desk bestie it’s inevitable

- If you’re intimate before he knows he’s really gentle and makes sure to take his time with you

- If it’s after he will be rough and mean

- He definitely cares about you and loves you but he will pretend he’s using you as a toy

- As if he’s your god and you’re nothing but a lowly mortal designed to be used and filled up by him

- Choking you out and breeding you for hours on end

- Will be so incredibly gentle with aftercare it’s almost like he’s a different person

- “Look at you drooling and can’t even keep your eyes focused. Pathetic. You’re too stupid to think of anything other than how I’m ruining you”

- Makes you struggle to walk every time

- Gets carried away and marks you everywhere like diavolo asking you why there’s a hickey on your ankle😭

- Almost buys you a collar if Lucifer didn’t stop him

- Wants you to know you belong to him and you’re his little follower

- Tells you how good you are for him and gives you a nice reward

- “You’re so good for me, so eager to please and make me happy. My human deserves a reward hm?”

- Cocky asf for no reason PLEASE humble his ass!!

- Gets off on it when you pin him down and call him pathetic

- “The great avatar of wrath Satan himself bouncing on my lap like a whore desperate to get off.”

- He’s literally turning to mush for you

- Whimpering and looking at you with teary eyes

- “P-please I need to cum I’ll do anything”

- Bites back a moan when you coo at him that he’s so pathetic needing a mortal to get off

- He can feel how mean you are and your anger through your pact and it’s making his body buzz with excitement

- Panting and wiggling his hips he’s begging you to fill him up

- Call him a good kitty and he probably won’t be able to last

- Likes when you punish him like best his ass fr leave bruises make his ass bright red!!

- He’s really just attached to you and will cause a big issue when you have to leave the devildom at the end of the year😅

#x black reader #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x black reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #my wrtitng #satan smut #Satan obmswd #obm satan #Satan x Reader smut #obey me smut #satan om

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vin-taege · 1 year

Note

spoilers!!!! hello!!! you asked for chishiya x reader request? can i request oneshot or headcannon of them reuniting in the hospital in the last episode?(they both were in borderland) so they were dating before and during and after borderland (maybe they were walking together in shibuya that kind of thing so they both are alive)

It's been a while so I might be rusty :') For this, I decided to set pre-borderlands reader and chishiya at the beginning stage of their relationship (think first date) so the reunion impact has much more oomf (in my silly little head, this makes sense). I hope you like it!!

What's Missing?

Summary: You had made a promise, but you can't remember for the life of you what nor to whom—but a certain blonde with a Cheshire smile may help you recall.

TW: blood, SPOILERS FOR S2

Genre: fluff, alice in borderland au, hinted established relationship

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1.1k

You couldn't feel your dominant hand. The pain had dwindled into numbness, but you were certain a silver bullet had dug its way in between the bones of your lower arm. Chishiya had managed to take his jacket off despite the blood pouring out his own side. Through his shallow breathing, he tied it it tightly around your wound, trying his best to ignore your pained groan.

The bullet-fire had stopped a good hour ago, leading you both to think that the King of Spades was long gone. But your wounds didn't stem from that game—it was from the godforsaken shootout Niragi started.

You and the blonde sat side by side, huddled behind a dented car Usagi and Arisu had dragged you towards. You tried your best to shift a little so you can face him better, bringing your other arm to press against his blood-soaked torso. He spared a small grunt, the only thing telling you that he was in as much—if not, more—pain as you are. His warm hand covered yours, the two of you trying to put pressure on his wound.

"___," he exhaled slowly. "Promise me."

You hummed in response, whispering, "Okay."

Chishiya let out a low chuckle, "I haven't said what for yet."

"You don't need to," you turned your head up, eyes meeting his. "I'll do anything for you."

He gave you a small smile—the type void of his usual snark. In a way, he seemed almost sad, fearful. "I know. Sometimes I wish you wouldn't."

The blood pool underneath you grew. You didn't know which blood was whose, and you'd rather not find out.

"Promise me you'll remember," he quietly murmured. If you weren't paying attention you would have most likely missed it underneath the boom of fireworks, suddenly appearing the way they did when you first came into this wretched place. The familiar robotic voice greeted all surviving players with a congratulatory message, one you drowned out in favor of focusing on the only person that mattered: Chishiya.

"I promise. We'll find each other again."

Unbeknownst to you, your eyebrows knit together in worry upon seeing his paler complexion. The blush in his cheeks and the color from his lips have drained out, blooming on the cement instead. A dull spark in his deep brown irises fought to stay alive. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You would've done anything to feel his lips against yours again, or his fingers in between your hair. Even inches from death, he looked so beautiful, but you were scared that the slightest touch would rip him away from you.

"That's all I need," Chishiya gave your hand a small squeeze, the light of fireworks reflecting off his cat-like eyes.

The disembodied voice in the background asked one last question, one you both knew the answer to. In a blink of an eye, everything melted away.

Disoriented, you found yourself back in Shibuya, waiting for your date outside a coffee shop. You blinked twice, as if waking up from a dream, the only thing grounding you being the buzz of the hundreds of people coming and going. From the corner of your eye, you saw the flash of platinum blonde hair—and felt the impact of the meteor immediately after.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

The first thing you woke up to was systematic beeping.

Your body hurt all over, especially your dominant arm. With a glance, you realized that it hung in a cast. With enough effort and pain tolerance, you could still wiggle your fingers.

Something was missing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a nurse walking into your room, her small gasp catching your attention. She quickly scampered off to most likely find a doctor, but you couldn't have cared less. Your mind was stuck on somewhere—someone?—else. There's something important you had to do, but you didn't know what.

You needed to meet someone.

It would be days later when this thought would flash across your head.

That's right. There was someone you had to see.

You've healed enough to roam around the hospital now, but you still couldn't be discharged because they had to monitor the fracture in your lower arm. The way the bones have splintered could've only been caused by a gunshot wound, which stumped the doctors because how on earth could you have been shot during the impact?

Subconsciously, your walk has led you to a patient lounge area. Looking around, you saw a girl with chin length-hair laughing across a boy with long, shaggy hair, a small bandage stuck across his cheek. Other patients were scattered among the tables, some watching TV, others silently reading by themselves. That's when you locked eyes.

At the furthermost corner, a man sat with a set chessboard and an open pack of crackers. A flash of recognition sparked across your mind, and a part of you knew he felt it too.

You promised something. Promised what? To whom?

Without breaking eye contact, you walked towards the bookshelves his table was placed next to. He raised an eyebrow, light blonde strands of hair framing his sharp eyes. You gulped, second-guessing yourself.

You promised.

Half-heartedly browsing the shelf, you picked a book out, halting when you heard the blonde clear his throat.

"Your supposed to sign the logbook before borrowing," he nodded towards a bookstand, which was set beside a large window overlooking the hospital's garden.

"Ah, thank you," you replied meekly.

It was only when you were in front of the logbook that you realized: shit, you couldn't write.

Struggling, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to properly hold the pen. You could feel him watching you, smirking at your helplessness. Weirdly enough, you didn't feel offended or annoyed. Instead, warmth nestled within your chest.

I promise I'll find you.

You had barely scrawled three letters when you felt his presence closer to you. You looked over to your side, slowly taking him in.

His hair was tied into a small ponytail, a few loose strands poking out. His eyes looked less cold upfront, specks of sunlight entrapped in the rich brown. He felt like home, like hot chocolate after a long day or the rediscovery of a childhood toy.

"I thought you needed help," his lips curled slightly, a boyish grin adorning his features.

You chuckled lightly, "Thank you. My name is—"

And before you even finished, he had written your entire name—as if he knew it by heart, as if it was an oath he'd held onto dearly.

You tore your eyes from the paper, meeting his intense gaze again. He gingerly raised his hand, his heart yearning to reach out to you. He didn't know why but it all felt right when he first saw you. Everything was in its place.

You held his hand in midair, bringing it over to your cheek.

You've done this lifetimes before.

"Chishiya," his name left your mouth like a whisper—a wish scattered upon the heavens to come true.

"You were late to our date," you teased him.

He snorted a little, eyes crinkling as his grin widened. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

#alice in borderland imagines #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #asks #requested

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gothicminxx · 3 months

Text

Part 1 here

Part 2 is finally here! It took me forever to write, there’s a happy ending in this one I promise!

Satosugu x Fem! Reader

CW: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, pet names (baby and angel), established relationship with Gojo, mentions of sex if you squint. A slight razzle dazzle of the Shibuya arc.

WC: 5.2k

Also do y’all like love and deadspace? Thinking of posting a Zayne one shot soon.

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Late hours of the night brought the city to life, lights glittered brightly and it hid the beauty of the stars in the dark sky. Any attraction given to the charm of nature was only given to the full moon, bright and massive with a tint of blood orange to it tonight— a fitting color for Halloween night. The streets of Shibuya littered with college students and foreigners from different countries that had come down to experience a party of a lifetime. Common and unique costumes alike wandered drunkenly on the pavement, stumbling not only over their feet but words as well.

Halloween night in Shibuya was known for its array of bars, genres of music that boomed loudly in the city, and the small community of party goers that it created— a splendid environment for extroverts. It set the perfect trap for those with intentions that were the least bit pure to bait and capture the great Satoru Gojo, the man that had dampened the lives of curses the moment he was born.

The night had begun like any other, Satoru stood in the rather large kitchen with a gray towelette resting on his shoulder. He wore an apron that wrapped tightly around his slender waist as he concentrated on perfecting his tonkatsu chicken for dinner. Quietly he hummed along to a random playlist on his phone, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. His back muscles flexed the moment he began cutting up vegetables for dinner.

You stood in the kitchen with your husband, preparing a sweet cream that would accompany the matcha swiss rolls you were working hard on. Satoru, being a greedy man, adored having sweet pastries after dinner made by his lovely wife. He constantly begged you for a delicious confection, coaxing you with a much needed massage, or even a bath for two which always ended in a moment of tangled moans. You never complained when it came to indulging his addiction to sugar, it was a mere excuse to spend time together in the kitchen for a couple of hours, even if you already spent a lot of time with him.

Satoru grabbed plates from the cupboard to assemble your dinner as you popped your tasty dessert in the oven. Sauntering over to the small dining table you began to set everything up, allowing Satoru to pull a chair out for you before setting your dinner in front of you. Together you savored the flavors of each item of food, sharing in conversation about mundane things that held no importance at the time.

As dessert cooled down from the oven both of you sat on the cozy sectional couch in your living room, sitting on his lap to feed him dessert. Giggling as he threw compliments your way like a love sick puppy dog after each bite. Even if you had been married to Satoru for three years now the two of you acted like teenagers in love.

You laid snuggled up in his side with his arms wrapped tightly around you, watching a movie, slowly dozing off. Before a perfect night could conclude, Satoru’s phone rang loudly, begging for attention obnoxiously snapping you out of a sleepy haze. Groaning loudly he reached for his phone, pressing the green accept button with a roll of his eyes, “What is it now, Nanami?”

The deep gentle voice of Nanami flowed through his phone as he pressed it to his ear, furrowing his brows as he listened along. Being the nosy person you were, you tried your hardest to listen to the conversation but his voice was muffled. Whatever Nanami was telling Satoru it appeared to be serious, his body stiffened underneath you, “Uh huh, be there soon.” Satoru’s slender finger clicked the red decline button before he tossed the mobile device to the side.

A loud groan escaped his lips, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. A sense of worry washed over you as you quickly sat up, “I'm sorry baby, but we gotta get going.” He stated, standing from the couch as he extended his hand down to help you up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a perplexed expression falling on your beautiful face.

“It seems a veil has been casted down in Shibuya. Non-sorcerers are trapped inside without a way out, sorcerers may move freely in certain areas, while others are blocked off.” The situation sounded grave, it was concerning to be left in the dark, nobody had any idea of who could possibly be behind it.

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Leaning back against a metal pole you let out a loud heaving breath, clutching your cursed tool tightly that the white of your knuckles were visible. The head of a deformed human was held in your hand, blood spilling against the tile before you discarded it on the floor. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire after the relentless pace of bolting through the crowded subway station, slicing each deformed human that came near you. Mahito had an endless supply of these things, spitting more out from his mouth in globs that it seemed nearly impossible to kill them all.

Satoru had been separated from you for a mere second which was absolutely devastating for the powerful sorcerer, his main goal as it always has been, was to keep you safe in the confinements of his limitless technique. But Hanami and Jogo had different plans, separating him from you the moment an opportunity presented itself. You were ultimately the biggest thing he cared about, the cursed spirits had an understanding that as long as you were near Satoru, he would be reckless in his movements. Without hesitation he would hurt those that stood near as he used infinite void to destroy the cursed spirits if it meant keeping you safe. A technique that without fail would earn him victory.

Mahito had been put in charge of tiring you out, to exhaust all of your cursed energy, he doubted your abilities believing that you were a mere weakling. But as soon as his doubt came, it quickly deteriorated, the blade of your Katana burned bright red and pink resembling a wildfire. It terrified yet intrigued the patch face curse to witness first hand, he had only been warned that you were a reversed curse technique user with the special ability of bringing back the dead. The power of your cursed energy, the way you transferred it to the blade burning it, causing it to turn a lovely shade of glowing orange-- excited him, “I never knew you’d be this much fun!” Mahito giggled, twirling with his arms extended like a child.

Wiping sweat from your brow a smirk etched itself on your face, “I didn’t expect you to be this annoying.” You hissed, gripping the handle of the katana, digging your heel into the ground preparing to race towards him.

The cursed spirit had become a nuisance rather quickly that it had gotten under your skin. Your main focus was to run downstairs towards Satoru to be by his side, where you belonged. You knew better than to be worried about him, he was the strongest after all but you couldn’t help it— something was off. Digging the ball of your foot on the tile ground you lunged forward, the fiery blade coming in contact with the cursed spirit. Mahito’s eyes widened as your movements caught him off guard, piercing through his abdomen causing a choked cough to escape him. You twist the blade, listening to the squelch of his organs before pulling the Katana away, “I’m getting sick of your shit.” Your words are dripping with venom.

Another cackle stems from his lips that it only manages to enrage you more. The moment you had arrived with Satoru to Shibuya, warning bells rang in your head, the thick layers of the veil were enough to give you a clear sign. “Awe, you don’t mean that.” Mahito cooed, jutting his lips in a pout.

Igniting the katana with more cursed energy, your legs lept into another sprint, quick to dodge a blow from Mahito’s fist that stretched out like a rubber band. The fiery blade makes contact with his abdomen once more earning a groan of pain from his lips, crimson blood decorating the blade of your katana as it’s ripped away from Mahitos stomach. You could feel the familiar burn in your lungs and the ache in your muscles from exhaustion, constantly running circles around him for the last thirty minutes was draining.

Annoyingly enough for the patch face curse, exerting your physical stamina would never be enough to exhaust the cursed energy stored in your body. You were far too calculating, too aware of how much energy you needed to exude from yourself in order to take an opponent down; it was infuriating. If Mahito hadn’t been instructed to keep you alive, he would have touched the essence of your soul and morphed you into a doll he could play with.

Mahito tilted his head, clutching his fists tightly almost as if he was preparing to send another attack your way. Instead, he snickered as his gaze drifted to the stairs that led to the lower level of the subway station, “Come play some more, doll.” he licked his lips almost predatory as he sprinted toward the stairs, listening to your feet not far behind him-- it was all according to plan.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cerulean eyes held a barbaric gaze, wild grin plastered on his face as his long legs took strides toward the volcano head curse, that coward in fear from the mere sight of him. His pale cheeks stained with crimson blood and his breath was frantic from eradicating deformed humans. The plan of separating him from you failed, ultimately he had released his infinite void domain for a tenth of a second to rid of the nuisances that were Mahito’s doing.

“You crying?” Satoru snickered as he stepped closer to Jogo, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins; he felt like a god. His head tilted to the side in a mocking manner, dusting his blue blazer with a displeased look on his face, “I don’t take too kindly to being separated from my wife, you understand that… right, Jogo?”

Satoru had become fed up with the constant battle, the pathetic back and forth with curses that believed they could defeat him; he was a force to be reckoned with. As he stared at the trepidation in Jogo’s eyes; though it brought him satisfaction, he simply wanted to be at your side again to protect you. Reaching his large hand out, Saturo took a hold of Jogo’s arm, ripping the appendage off his body, a giggle escaping his lips. The curse let out a panicked yelp, trying his best to create distance between him and the six eyed sorcerer; he had to keep him busy for a few more minutes but it was starting to feel like an eternity to him. Being put against Satoru was pure misery for the volcano head.

He pushed through the crowd of frozen bodies that had been affected by his infinite void domain, finding joy in the chase. Jogo was quick on his feet but Satoru wasn’t too far behind, in his panic he found himself throwing balls of fire at the white haired man; bouncing off his limitless. Jogo knew it was a desperate attempt, that he would never be able to hit Gojo, his limitless too powerful.

Racing footsteps echoed throughout the lower level of the subway station, laughter bouncing off the walls; it sounded all too familiar to Jogo. His footsteps slowed down as the shadow of a figure danced along the wall, long blue hair flowing in the wind— Mahito appeared down the stairs, giggling like a maniac. The new presence halted Satoru the moment he laid eyes on you chasing after the patch face curse, your katana blazing an angry red.

His heart fluttered as relief washed over him; you were okay. His focus soon shifts towards you, the chase soon dispersing from his mind as Satoru’s feet quickly move in your direction; planning to shield you in the confinements of his limitless technique. It felt as though he had gone a lifetime separated from you, the worry had been gnawing at him. Yet he knew better, knew that you were capable of defending yourself in the face of danger, but it never made him worry any less.

Mahito raced toward Jogo, a smirk evident on his face, “Jogo, it’s time!” He exclaimed.

Milky hair came into your view, hand grasping your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His hold was firm as if to shield you from the world, hearing Mahito’s words was enough for the six eyes to sense a threat approaching. “Stay close to me.” Satoru instructed his jaw clenched tightly, you could only nod in response.

It was a late reaction as your eyes widened, feeling his firm body against yours; wanting to feel you close to him. Since the events that had perspired with Suguru a few years ago, Satoru kept you under lock and key like a guard dog protecting its home. It was rare for you to be out of his sight, never too far as the fear of losing you too stayed with him, sticking like gum. He requested the higher ups to keep you at Jujutsu High where you spent most of your days training the students and helping in the infirmary. While most of the teacher’s received missions often that required their attention, to keep you safe, he made sure you stayed busy at school. It was never that Satoru didn’t believe you to be capable of defending yourself or even that he doubted your abilities, he knew you were strong. But you were also the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if even a tiny scratch scathed your pretty skin.

Jogo followed Mahito, a loud whistle erupting from his lips as if he were signaling something or someone. Satoru’s arms tightened around your waist as a figure appeared in the distance, responding to Jogo. Your throat felt tight as the silence was deafening, the footsteps rang loudly in your ears, the air impossibly thick. Instinctually your hand reached Satoru’s blazer to grasp it tightly, afraid to be separated from him once more.

“Satoru and Name, been awhile.” The voice was gentle, a silky melody that made your hearts drop to your stomachs. You knew that voice anywhere.

As the figure approached from the shadows of the subway tunnel, long raven hair entered your peripheral vision. Your grip on Satoru tightened, a lump forming in your throat that it felt as though it was closing up your esophagus. The face of the lover you lost to the grim reaper a few years ago now stood in front of you. Memories of his limp body falling in your arms that nearly crushed you, your wails and screams filling every crevice of your mind. Suguru’s bloody face flashed before your eyes, bringing you back to the field of the school-- begging Satoru that it didn’t have to end this way. You blinked a few times as he approached, how was a dead man walking? You looked up at Satoru as if asking for reassurance that he too was seeing the same thing as you. His jaw was clenched, his face drained of any color, and his lip quivered slightly-- he saw him too. “You’re the one behind this?” You blurted, unable to halt the words from escaping.

Suguru smirked, he appeared to be looking around him with admiration at the chaos that the curses caused. His coffee eyes soon focused on the two of you, “I guess so,” he chuckled, he took a step closer, “Didn’t you miss me?”

Satoru dug his nails inside of his palm the longer he stared at Suguru. His features were the same as if he had never died, as if he never left his lovers. He gritted his teeth preparing his red technique, to muster the courage to do it all over again-- to end it, but he couldn’t, “My six eyes keep telling me it’s Suguru Geto, but my heart and soul know otherwise!” He hissed, the agony he felt evident in his voice.

“So observant.” He cooed. Suguru tossed a metal cube in front of you, using the shock of the situation to his advantage. The cube opened, quick to entrap your wrists and Satoru’s tightly like cuffs.

The raven haired man reached up and pulled at the stitches engraved in his forehead, pulling up his scalp to reveal Kenjaku, a curse that has the ability to use the victim's body as his own. “Someone was kind enough to leave this body for me.”

Kenjaku’s words confused you. Satoru had taken you to the crematorium after Suguru’s death, a place where they laid sorcerer's to rest. It was a small place just outside Kyoto, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Satoru had picked this crematorium for this reason. Suguru admired the pink color, the sweet aroma the flowers brought each season. At the time he picked an apartment with a cherry blossom tree in the backyard. Every spring he would pick the flowers to make mochi, sitting outside to delight in the sweet confection with the two of you. The cherry blossom tree held a special meaning for the both of you, it was Suguru.

The white haired man had taken you by the hand, leading you to a small koi pond. A marble tombstone with Suguru’s name had come into view, a few flowers already scattered on his grave. You reached out your fingertips to trace his name, tears rolling down your face as the reality had finally set in that he was gone. You remember setting down his favorite tea and Cherry blossom mochi that you and Satoru had stayed up all night to make that wasn’t nearly as good as his. It never made sense to you as to why your husband never allowed you to have an urn with Suguru’s ashes. You had begged him, pleaded with him to let you have that last piece of him but Satoru insisted he’d be better off somewhere lovely. His ashes were placed in the ground that would one day make a cherry blossom tree.

As he stood here now, you realized Satoru had never gotten rid of Suguru’s body. That when he had instructed Shoko to take him to get cremated it had never happened. The grave you had spent hours at, talking to him, dropping him gifts-- it was empty. “What?” You choked, your eyes immediately falling on your snowy haired lover.

Satoru avoided your gaze, dropping his head to the ground ashamed that a secret he had held onto for so long had finally come to light. He had planned to tell you one day, but as time passed and visits to Suguru’s ‘grave’ became more frequent-- he couldn’t. Kenjaku tsked, “What a pity, it was quite simple to retrieve this body. Surprised you would be so weak to not tell her.”

You winced at his mocking tone, each word stung deeper than a knife. Satoru had lied to you, kept you away from resurrecting the man you each had spent decades loving. You understood Suguru’s values would never match up to your own, that his existence alone was a threat to human society, and yet, none of it mattered. The love you held in your heart for him was much greater than the mistakes he had made, than the lives he had taken. You could never see him as a monster, Suguru had always been misunderstood. “Sato-”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “How much longer are you going to let it control you, Suguru?!” Satoru called out.

Suguru’s hand began to twitch, his hand lunging forward at his own throat causing Kenjaku to laugh in amusement, “I’ve never had a body fight back before. How entertaining.”

“You’re one of the strongest, don’t let it consume you, Sugu.” You added, his hand doing anything it can to choke the curse living inside of him.

Kenjaku laughed, peeling each finger off his neck with brute force, “Times up.” The cube that had surrounded you and Satoru slowly began to close, muffling the sounds of the outside world as it entrapped you inside its prison-- each surrounding going black.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The prison realm was compact, reeking of death from the various skeletons from past prisoners that surrounded you. The bones made for an uncomfortable mattress, Satoru had laid you on top of his body to provide you some form of cushion. It was silent in the metal box that imprisoned you compared to the noisy outside world that continued with or without you, it was a bleak thought. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress your tears, the last thing you wanted was to be near him. Your heart felt heavy in your chest almost like a fifty pound weight rested there, it ached an agonizing pain that you could barely ignore it.

Satoru’s heart steadily beat against your ear, the only other sound that could be heard besides his breaths. He held you tightly, his arm around your waist and the other moved from your hair to infront of your eyes, obscuring your vision to total darkness, “Don’t think.” He murmured.

Your lips quivered, his words setting off each emotion you felt deeply, a choked sob raking your body. A few of your tears touched the palm of his hand, Satoru’s heart stung the more you gripped his hand, whimpering like an injured puppy. It pained him to see the damage his actions had caused, he swore to himself that he would tell you the truth on Suguru’s birthday. The day you had tirelessly baked a chocolate cake for hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect it just for him. Dolling yourself up in the mirror, that day you made sure to wear Suguru’s favorite dress that he had bought for you, a white one that made you appear like an angel sent from above. When you sat at his tombstone with balloons, cake, and sunflowers, lighting up candles on the cake as you and Satoru sang him happy birthday. He promised then that he would tell you, but he never did.

He kissed the top of your head, holding his hand still over your teary eyes, providing the only darkness he knew would calm you down. It was his form of silencing the world around you, allowing you to focus on the atmosphere around you-- acknowledging each emotion you felt that you often failed to discern. “Don’t think, just focus.” Satoru instructed once more.

Another wail left your lips that caused him to wince, holding you tighter as he buried his face in your hair. A tear slid down his face as he listened to you cry, he hated himself for the agony he had caused you. Holding his wrist tighter to keep his hand as a blind fold you listened to the quiet atmosphere around you, that stench of death that made your stomach churn reminding you of the prison you were in. Trying to grasp at the emotions that overwhelmed you, “How could you do this to me?” You choked out.

Nuzzling his cheek against your hair, you could feel the wetness-- he was crying. Satoru held onto you as his life depended on it, petrified that if he let go that you would disappear and leave him alone in this cruel world. The person he loved with his entire being, the one he would sacrifice his own life for in a heartbeat because you were absolutely everything to him. He felt like an idiot for lying to you, the truth always came out, he was a fool for believing otherwise, “Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Satoru croaked, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you but I…”

“Decided to be selfish and lie to me instead?”

“Name-”

“No, you thought I’d be reckless and bring him back,” You shoved his hand away, sitting up on him, “Didn’t you?”

Your face was flushed, sticky with tears that persisted on falling from your eyes. Your chest heaving up and down, a clear indication that you were furious at him. Satoru sat up, averting his gaze from those pretty sad eyes of yours-- he felt sick. “Look at me!” You pleaded, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at the hurt he caused.

He placed his hands on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he found the strength to muster words, “I did.”

You dropped your hand from his chin, dropping your gaze to his abdomen as you frantically wiped at your tears. He doubted you, but was he wrong? His death had affected you gravely that it took months to cope, even now you still struggled on certain days. Suguru’s birthday was the hardest date to get by, alongside the day he passed, those days you wore his clothes that had already lost his scent. You drank his favorite tea even if you preferred coffee, you just wanted to feel close to him again. Satoru clung onto you those days, he sought after your comfort-- as you did his. It was silent around your home for long periods of time, embracing each other tightly to communicate how much you missed him, to remind one another that you were still here.

Suguru’s spot in bed remained untouched, a cold spot that reminded you of the once warm body that lay there. His things never left your house, not even after you and Satoru moved to a new home, there was always a piece of him there. Thinking now, if Satoru had told you that Shoko stored his body somewhere safe you would have spent days, even months searching for it-- you’d bring him back. You had been blessed with the ability to bring those back from the dead, it didn't matter how long they were gone, if the body was well preserved you could bring them back. Playing with death would have its consequences someday, but you would have risked it for Suguru. Your husband wasn’t wrong to hide the truth from you, you couldn’t let Suguru go.

“I would have.” You chuckled bitterly, resting your forehead against Satoru’s, “I still would.”

His hand cupped your cheek, gently wiping away the fat tears that cascaded down your face, “I know.”

“I miss him, Toru.”

“Me too, baby.”

You stared up at the black sky, Kenjaku now had Suguru’s body. It was a harsh reality. While he created chaos as your deceased lover, you were locked away in a box, hoping to be rescued by the other sorcerers. The time of when you’d be free from this hell wasn’t certain nor was it definite, you relied on those outside to save you; you had faith. Once freed, it was inevitable that Satoru would fight against Kenjaku, face the reality of hurting Suguru’s body once more-- something he hadn’t forgiven himself for. “I can bring him back, once we get out… I can bring Sugu back.” You blurted.

Satoru sucked in a breath at your words, it had never left your mind to bring him back. He knew you still thought of the days where it was just the three of you, he did too. The six eyes craved to have his old life back where the raven haired man was in the picture, his gentle smile, his soft voice-- he missed it all. It sounded like a dream come true to have that life back, perhaps the old Suguru would return, at least that’s what he told himself.

His silence was deafening, “Please,” You choked, more tears fell from your eyes, “Please let me bring him back, Toru. We can eat mochi under cherry blossom trees again, just like we used to. You can drag us out of bed on snow days and I won’t complain, I promise. Then he’ll scold you for eating too many sweets and for buying candy behind his back. Please… I-” Your head fell against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, pleading with him over and over again.

He buried his face in your hair once more, holding the back of your head with his hand, gently rocking your bodies together. Satoru wanted that fantasy life more than anything, your promises sounded like honey. It was a life that had once been reality before Suguru disappeared to pursue his own ideals, a life that remained cherished. Satoru cried with you, biting his lip to suppress his whimpers; he knew better. Suguru had changed, too stuck in his ways, his values so engraved in his brain that it was impossible to persuade him differently. His own lovers couldn’t stray him from the society he saw fit, Suguru would return to his old ways-- Satoru would let him, neither of you would deny him that anymore and that terrified him. “We can’t.” His voice weak, the words struggled to come out almost as if he didn’t believe what he was telling you.

Your body shook with each sob that left your lips, each tear staining his navy blazer. Your husband held you tighter, silence loomed overhead as you both cried. In the end the both of you knew that your love for Suguru remained, neither of you have stopped grieving him. “I can’t let him go.” You rasped.

It was Satoru’s turn to sob, cradling your head in his hand. The rocking of your bodies pacified the emotions from causing anxiety, his body was warm— a big protective blanket that you found yourself sinking into further. A sharp pang spread through his heart as he reminisced on the past. It would be selfish to bring him back, to turn the world upside down as Satoru and you finally stood by him. He couldn’t let him go either.

Pulling back from the hug, Satoru cupped his hands on both of your cheeks, he was a selfish man. Two selfish lovers disregarding the pain of the innocent for a love unforgotten.

He had lived for others, sacrificed himself for the greater good. Satoru constantly fought tooth and nail to protect the weak, constantly worrying about you because the weak could not control their cursed energy— curses would continue to be born. But they were only human. The guilt was gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraled out of control the more he looked at his precious wife. Suguru was right, it was your turn to be happy.

“Okay, once we get out of here… let’s get our Sugu back, angel.”

Maybe it was selfish, but neither of you cared anymore. The decision had been made. When the prison realm freed you, and the battle became a gruesome bloody mess. With Kenjaku ripped from Suguru’s body, you did the only thing you knew— resurrect the man that held onto your hearts after all these years.

As he wrapped his arms around you both, holding you close. The smell of cedar wood and jasmine enveloped you like he never left, he held your dizzying body tightly that felt exhausted after using up your cursed energy for the day. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish, the long lost lover had returned, never to be separated from either of you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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jacesbeloved · 2 years

Text

for the kingdom: part II

summary: being the youngest daughter of alicent, you hadn’t known what it was like to feel restraint until you had been betrothed to the eldest son of queen rhaenyra for a pact. for who? for the kingdom

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings/notes: sexual innuendos, tension again, drunk jace and rude y/n, mild enemies/rivals to lovers, them arguing 60% of the time. (a/n: i haven’t read the part in the book w/ jace being in the north and w/ cregan so pls don’t come at me at the latter part <3 and also meraxes the dragon is alive yay)

part: I, II, III, IV

ftk taglist: @kentarosbaby @lady-ashfade @simrah1012 @mfrnchsk @sexualityisajoke @elsyyie @instabull @ephemeralninon @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @mainstreambitchlife @alexandra-001 @writer-lee5 @nightly-polaris

jace taglist: @cosmicfairygirl @simrah1012 @lucerysvelaryonstan @lady-stark-winter-rose @moon1gt @aureliapappa @jcrsctrl @bobfloydluvsblackwomen

It was quite mind boggling to you how Jace managed to irritate you even more than your pre-wedding feast.

After telling you that both of you had to travel around Westeros, he only clarified now that you two would head north to Winterfell. Telling you there's no need to pack or choose your clothes to bring since he already had them tailor different clothes.

Your voice boomed around you and Jace's chambers, furiously ranting about your own style and preferences all the while, Jace stared at a random book he picked up on his cabinet.

"What do you even know about my clothing!?" You roared, glaring at your husband. "I'm well aware of your tastes and colors, beloved. No need to yell," Jace replies swiftly, his tone calm as if you weren't hysterical at him, loudly slamming the book shut.

"Rich green and white colored gowns, hand-sewn images of Meraxes on the cloth, golden accents and belts, emphasis on the bust area, curvy patterns. I may elaborate further if it pleases you." He started to list out before you could respond, each thing he mentioned describing your own collection of gowns perfectly. He stood from his seat, eyebrows arching in challenge as he saw the surprise in your eyes.

You scoff at him before leaving him in your room, walking out, and yelling at him to get on with the flight. Your husband followed quickly right after.

With your and Jace's bags loaded onto carts and horses set to journey to the north, you and him, along with the Kingsguards, head outside the walls of King's Landing to your dragons. Vermax was brought outside by dragonriders, while Meraxes, your dragon, lived outside. She didn't fit in the Dragonpit.

Your blank face slowly brightens as you see your dragon, and you smirk when you hear Jace marvel at the sight of her. "Meraxes is beautiful," Jacaerys comments, staring at the silver beauty that is your dragon.

Having been riding Meraxes since you were 12, you were quite proud of your dragon. Her silver scales that made her look white, her red eyes that made any person gulp in fear, and the fact it was first ridden by Rhaenys Targaryen, sister-wife to Aegon the Conqueror, gave you all the more boast.

You side-eyed him, getting a glimpse of his dragon before sighing. "Vermax is small, very much uglier as well."

Some of the kingsguards stifle a quiet chuckle at your comment while you smile sweetly at Jace. Your husband glared at you before scoffing.

"Truly such an honest woman, aren't you, my dear wife?"

"Only for you, my lovely husband," you grin, and he scoffs sarcastically before turning to his dragon. You did the same, patting the side of Meraxes' head as she mewled, the ground rumbling when she started moving.

You easily mount your dragon, pulling at the ropes cautiously and patting the base of its neck as it starts to rise. You see Jace rise the same way, his dragon roaring as well.

"I bid you a safe flight, my princess." Criston Cole spoke, bowing with respect. "And to you, Prince Jacaerys."

The both of you nod at him, your heads gliding as you glance at each other with squinted eyes, the wind blowing in your faces.

"May you reach Winterfell safely, my beloved," he says loudly, nodding at you.

"See you there." Was the only thing you replied before ascending with your dragon.

Winterfell appeared to be much colder at night. The infamous grey direwolf that every person in Westeros recognizes greeted all of you inside the castle walls warmly, contrary to the cold environment surrounding it.

You walked the pathway of Winterfell with your head held high, meeting halfway with Jace after you and Meraxes had to take a detour. Your husband now wore a thick fur coat around him, placing a matching coat onto your shoulders after you arrived at his side.

Jace leans over to your side, breath fanning over your ear. "I see Vermax may be uglier, certainly faster though." He withdraws with a cheeky grin as the both of you arrive in the very heart of Winterfell, the courtyard.

The guards holding the Targaryen banners halted when you both did, facing the people of Winterfell as you and Jace did.

In one united motion, they all descended onto their knees, bending the knee to you both, bowing their heads out of respect. Jace inhaled a sharp breath before beckoning the lord up, his people following after.

"Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Heir to the Iron Throne, and Princess Y/N Targaryen, his future Queen Consort, daughter of the late King Viserys, the first of his name."

"You honor us, Lord Cregan," Jace was the first to speak, smiling warmly at the older man before they hugged. "It is our honor to have you both in Winterfell," Cregan says, pulling away from Jace and kissing your hand.

You nod at Cregan's council, sisters, and children beside him, them bowing in return whilst Jace shook their hands.

"How long has it been, a decade? More than?" Cregan inquires, "I'm afraid more than, Lord Cregan. It's been quite some time, if I may say so myself." Jace says with sympathy.

While Jace had been conversing with Cregan, you let yourself stare at the people surrounding him. You're not really familiar with any of them; you haven't really known much about them aside from what's written in the books in the Red Keep and what you hear from your mother.

They all had a small smile as you looked at them; even the children looked happy, like they were excited to hear the prince and princess would come to their castle. Although, one of the men caught your attention.

A lowborn. His face was dirty and messy, blank expression, and his clothes were torn. He was haunting. You two locked eyes with each other, as everything else seemed rather irrelevant.

"Beloved, are you okay?" Your husband's hand lightly holds your arm, startling you a bit. You looked at him alarmed before your face softened, turning to Lord Cregan.

"I’m fine." You nod, smiling tightly at him. Jacaerys stared at you weirdly before nodding as well and turning back to Cregan.

The man clapped loudly, a jolly smile on his face as he spoke. "Well then! Let us have them settled and rested for the hunt tomorrow!" The rest of them clapped as well, slowly dispersing away as you heard your horses neighing, glancing to see your stuff being taken off of the carts.

Cregan led the both of you to the guest house himself after feasting for a bit, cracking jokes with you and Jace. He was actually much more jolly and warm than you had expected.

You enter first, a massive door opening up to a warm living room with a fireplace already burning in the middle. There were heads of wild animals decorating the walls, and a staple, the House Stark banner, in the middle of it all.

"We gave the princess her own table of sweets, we heard the princess loves that." Cregan directs your attention to a platter of fruits, crackers, and pies.

"That is well appreciated, Lord Cregan. Such thoughtfulness," you replied, nodding softly at him. Cregan nodded his head at you—a bit ambiguous, which made you and Jace confused a bit.

When he saw the way both you and Jace looked confused, he chuckled loudly. "Oh, are these the newlyweds that threw away tradition? I see why now, you two are still stiff with each other."

"My prince, go on, feed her." Cregan encourages, patting the other's back rather harshly, which made him lunge forward a bit.

Your forehead creased, looking at Jace to see what Cregan meant, and the man had the same amount of confusion as you did. He tried to utter something, but the smile on Cregan's face never faltered, now resulting in Jace laughing dryly and nodding, picking up a fork from the silver tray, cutting a piece of the pie, and gathering a big amount of cream on it.

You swallow harshly, wondering if that big of a pie slice is going to fit in your mouth. It was the side of a fist, and Jace had a grin on his face as he cut it.

"Say "ahh," my beloved," Jace holds up the fork, your eyes going over to Cregan, a proud smile on his face.

"There's, uh, there's a lot on it, husband," you chuckled at Jace, the man clearly knowing the smile on your face only meant a threat.

"You can take it, go on." You glare at him as the pie eventually dissolves in your mouth, surprisingly fitting. The sweet taste of the blueberries and the sweetness of the cream on top of it mixed so well. "Very good," Jace whispers, wiping the leftover cream on the side of your mouth.

You quickly swallow the pie down whole, quickly grabbing the fork from Jace as you cut an even larger piece than the one Jace made you eat. Cregan laughed loudly at this, thinking of it as a sweet interaction between the two newlyweds, but it was just both of you trying to shove pies down each other's throats.

There wasn't a second you wasted, after cutting the piece, you scooped it up on your fork, shooting the fork inside Jace's mouth as you ignored his nervous excuses.

"It's- Gods, it's really good. Thank you, Lord Cregan," Jace says while munching on the pie, grabbing a glass of wine to drink as he side-eyes you. "And you as well, my dear wife."

"Truly such a sweet couple," Cregan sighs, walking away to head upstairs. You smirk at Jace, hitting his side before following Cregan. Jace had clutched his side before following you. He led the two of you upstairs, where there were only two doors, one of which you recognized as the room with the chamber pot.

You look at Jace, trying to communicate with him with your eyes as he still holds his side now with a delicious cup of wine in his other hand. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw your glare, a jerk to your head to the door and he finally gets it.

"And, uh, this is our chambers then?" Jace asked, gesturing at the door.

"Ah, of course! This is where I hope the miracle would happen," Cregan winks at your husband, the latter freezing in place. "Rest easy now, my princess, prince, and be ready for the feast tomorrow! We have a hunt!" He bows at the both of you before excusing himself, leaving the two of you there now.

"Miracle," you grimaced, glaring at him while he rolled his eyes, ignoring you and opening the chamber's door for you.

The door revealed a beautifully lit and decorated room, warm fur all around, an incredibly large bed with fabric draped on the frame, and a dozen candles all around. The room had everything.

Your things had already been arranged inside the room when you saw your familiar knick-knacks and bottles by the mirror. Jace's things were also mixed in with yours, his black and red coats hang beside your green and white ones on a wooden hook.

Your hands quickly pulled open the cabinet, ready to lash out again at Jace when your mouth dropped.

The green color of your gowns was just as rich as you always liked, the amount of gold accents were just right, the appropriate buckles, buttons, laces, everything. Even the embroidered images of Meraxes were done well.

"Told you. A beaut, aren't they?" Jace smirks, joining you by your side to look at the extravagant dresses inside the cabinet.

You swallowed down the need for complaining in your throat, tonguing at your cheek before grabbing a hold of one of the gowns and inspecting it critically as if you had five sets of eyes. You had wanted to look at something to nitpick at, but none of them were ugly or imperfect.

"What now, Jacaerys? Do you want me to fall to my knees in front of you? Do you want me to smother you in kisses? Warm our bed? Tell me, I'd give it to you since you're such a darling for having such beautiful gowns tailored for me." Jace could hear the sarcasm even if he was deaf. The sarcastic look in your face contradicted your actions as you tried to give him lovestruck eyes while walking towards the bed.

"Does your family have a knack for drama?" Jace remarks. "You're welcome, Y/N. I see giving thanks is not your specialty."

You lay on the edge of the bed, your head lying beside Jace's figure. "I give thanks in different ways, Jace. Would you like to know how?"

The man's eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, licking his own in a split second before standing up, the knock on the door making you both stand quick.

The door opens to reveal Lord Cregan's sister, holding a fruit basket. "I beg your pardon, my prince. I did not mean to interrupt you and your wife, my brother, Lord Stark, had just wanted me to give you these."

She smiled sweetly at him. The man reciprocates the smile as he takes the fruit basket gratefully, surprised at another basket. He inspects a few of the fruits in the front, glancing at you, who had been lighting a few candles before handing Sara an apple.

Sara furrowed her eyebrow at him, chuckling lightly at the prince as she waved her hand as a no.

"Go on." Jacaerys gives her his hand after she takes the apple. "I don't think we've been properly introduced to each other, I am Jacaerys-"

"I already know who you are, my prince. I am Sara Snow, Lord Cregan's sister," she replies, shaking Jacaerys' hand.

"I already know who you are as well, Lady Snow," The two laugh lightly before waving, Jace closing the door.

When he stepped back into the room, you still had your back to him, lighting your candles.

"So you prefer brunettes," you spoke quietly while fanning the matchstick you held, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You're taking an interest in my preferences, might I say you like me?" Jace replies, walking over to you to grab his clothes from his cabinet.

You laugh at him, side-eyeing your husband as he pulls off his shirt. "And you're always undressing in front of me, might I say you are hinting at something?" He halts his movement, turning to face you with his bare chest in front of you. His lips jutted out as he cocked his head to the side.

It was tempting to look down. It took every bit of control you had not to look at his body.

You had expected him to reply, but he doesn't. He merely looks at you from your head to your legs before taking the cup of wine he had set aside earlier on your dresser and drinking it, walking away from you.

The whole hunt had been boring—mainly just Jace and Cregan laughing and drinking with each other, not paying you any mind. You hated being bored, so here you were, playing with three highborns from Winterfell for hours.

"A boar's arse? Just a peck?" One of the boys clarified with you, the other two were already thinking about how they'd get to do it.

"No, kiss a boar's arse also using your tongue. You must kiss its ass for two minutes. All four of us must be present for it to be valid," you explained once more, laughing to yourself when you saw them look at each other worriedly.

They nodded at you, making you laugh at how stupid they were. They even kneeled, swearing to you that they'd do their best. As if you'd actually let them ride Meraxes, you'd rather jump off of your dragon mid-flight than place another person with you on your dragon.

The maidens beside you looked scared but intrigued, anticipating whether or not they would actually do it.

"Oh, and, the boy that could do that and climb the broken tower in the middle of Winterfell, I'll bring him to King's Landing on dragonba-"

"I'm deeply sorry, my lords, my wife is not bringing anyone to King's Landing on dragonback," the familiar voice cuts you off, placing an arm around your shoulders while you roll your eyes. "If I may have a word with her, that would be splendid."

The three boys and maidens beside you all bowed to the prince, scurrying away while they still hoped your offer still stood. They wanted to ride a dragon that badly. You winked at one of the boys, nodding to him teasingly.

"A boar's arse, really, Y/N?" Jace spoke, disappointment in his tone, as he took a seat on the log beside you, holding a canteen of wine, courtesy of Cregan, as you expected.

"You should've seen earlier, one of them ate a rabbit raw after I told them I'd take them to see Meraxes—not even a ride, just see." You laugh at the memory, remembering the boy puking his guts out because of it.

You glance at Jace; he still has a disappointed look on his face. "Oh, come on, at least I'm keeping myself busy. What d'you want me to do, chatter with the maidens? Head back to the halls? This is honestly so boring, Jacaerys." You groaned while dramatically massaging your own forehead, even closing your eyes.

Jacaerys reciprocates the same gesture, probably even more stressed than you were after he'd been hearing your tricks and challenges to the mindless boys with you, seducing and playing with their feelings and desires.

"Do whatever you wish for entertainment, but leave the poor boys alone," Jace says, and you giggle at him, slowly cocking your head in his direction while batting your eyelashes. "Or else what?"

He turns to you, no longer stressed nor disappointed, but amused, "Do you really have to turn everything provocative?"

"I just asked what would you do if I did it again, how is that provocative?" He crossed his arms. "I am either provocative or dramatic, which of me do you like more?" You asked, crossing your arms as well.

"Isn't there a nice one of you?" You smiled at his question, one that he's always seen from you.

"Go kiss a boar's arse, my lovely husband."

After the day-long hunt, a boar was piked on top of a fire, with rabbits and birds being roasted beside it as well. Dozens of Cregan's men had their tents set up, declaring that, as per Cregan's joyful experience with earlier's hunt, they'd sleep in the woods and continue tomorrow.

And there you were, laying inside your tent while studying the handle of your own sword, given to you by your father, Viserys.

"Keep it, be someone they don't want you to be." The words of your father echoed in your head, telling the story of your older sister Rhaenyra, who was forbidden to be a queen, told not to be one as it breaks the law. But your father didn't care; he still named her heir, and no one could do anything about it.

Not even your mother.

You sheathed it back, throwing it aside as you pulled a cushion underneath your head. Closing your eyes while the rest sang songs and danced around the fire. You didn't even know where your husband-

"There you are," speak of the devil.

A relieved sigh sounds from the entrance of the tent. You didn't need to look at the speaker, you already knew who it was.

"They're... They're asking for you, for the princess." Jace slurred his words, audibly drunk.

"So you came to me, the princess, your wife, because your companions are looking for me? Not because you just so happened to wonder about what I was doing?" Your voice came out gargled as you had your face planted on the cushion.

"And also to make sure you're not tormenting boys. Who knows, someone might just throw themselves in the fire, saying you'll give them a kiss if they do," you laugh at Jace's allegation, seeing that the alcohol has given him quite a different personality now.

Alcohol does change people, at least for a few hours.

You raise your middle finger at him from your back, and you feel him sit beside you. The rustling and clanking of glasses make you sit up. And there you saw that Jace wasn't only audibly drunk, he was the most obvious drunk you have ever seen. His eyes were puffy, his hair disheveled, his cheeks a light shade of red, and his lips in a pout as he took a sip of his wine once more.

If you knew any less, you'd actually think he was adorable right now. He looked like the type to read stories at night, but you knew better than to expect nice things.

Silence floats around the air between the two of you, him silently sipping on his wine all the while you watch him blankly, taking a sip of your own wine as well.

"Well then? I am alright here. You can go back to your companions and drink 'til you drop. Tell them to just drop you outside of our tent after." Jace nods however, he refuses to leave the tent. Making himself comfortable with a cushion.

"Can't I stay in our tent?" Jace furrows his eyebrows at you.

You groaned, slapping your hand onto your forehead. "There's no fun in our tent, Jacaerys."

"Who said that? Of course there is." He smiled. For a second, you thought something else, but then you see him holding a ball—various balls—and throwing them upwards in amusement as he tried to catch them again with the same hand he used to throw them.

You watch him entertain himself with some balls and wine while drinking some wine yourself.

"Oh, so you'd rather drink here with me, have fun with me?" you spoke. "That's... provocative," Jace replies, clearly drunk as he downs his wine, making you scoff.

"Do you want to see how provocative I can be, husband?" You whisper just enough for him to hear, and he gulps.

You stood up from your seat, walking slowly to the older man before sitting down in front of him. The two of you are now inches apart. You placed the cup somewhere, making sure it was far from both of you as you unclipped your coat, throwing it to your side of the tent as you were now left in your dress. You stood once more, swinging your leg over him as you straddled him, making sure there was still a decent amount of space between you two.

Jace froze completely, not sure what to do as he was intoxicated. His mind was hazy, drunk and nervous. This is the first time you two have ever been this close. You placed your hands on top of his shoulders, leaning in slowly.

You manage to give him a short kiss, his own lips moving subtly with yours as you taste the strong wine on his lips. Before you could fully close the distance between you two and continue, he spoke. "Don't."

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

#hotd #jacaerys imagines #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys x reader imagine #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys x reader #hotd fics #jacaerys fic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen

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clownsuu · 11 months

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i have so many curious questions about the designs for each of your characters. like, home having big floaty cloud hair?? how do you decide/design them?

I always wanted to talk a sec about my Home's design lmAO so I guess I'll take a sec to do a lil ramble about him

Cw me ramblin my ass off HDHDHJD

Every time I make a design for a character, I always gotta look at everything about em in some way and try my best to implement each iconic aspect of them in their design- from minor to major differences

So like his head, his blue flow-y hair was inspired by his roof and what's underneath his building (that little black void with the swirl- it somehow translated to whispy curly hair in my lil noggin). His colors of his facial hair is obviously colored according to his normal version (red facial hair/brick, a yellow line for the door). I also wanted a way to implement his windows, cause it's a very iconic look for Home, so boom, g l a s s e s (I was gunna put bumps underneath the frames but it looked weird so I just gave him long ass lashes)

His stitched up body/outfit is mostly inspired by the armchair wally sits on that has a very noticeable Barnaby print in the back. Although iv never really drawn it, Home's pants have patches of every single character's skin on it (yes the spots for Barnaby and Howdy would be fluffy LMAO). And his shirt, although it doesn't look like much, the two color patches on his shoulders are color inspired by the trees behind him, and his sleeves obviously of the greenary around him. (also his race, Iv debated what athnicity he'd be since there were two (or three for both) to choose from (wally being afro-latino), and iv ultimately decided Latino, since a large part of my family is such and I know a lot more on that culture being born in it)

As for age? Home himself to me just f e e l s warm and comforting, he has big soft eyes and is literally a Home, so what kinda person makes you f e e l (likespiderman) like home while also being one? A more elderly figure, specifically that one elderly person you feel so comforted being at home with as a kid, smothered in love and happiness and never wanting to leave smhhh. I just wanted him to make you feel like at home whenever ya get a hug by him.

Also his relationship at first wasn't actually gunna be Wally's father, moreso just a guardian, but after he was done being colored and such (and I got a lotta comments sayin he looks like wally) I just went "f it" and made him wally's dadpa (nobody can really choose if it's father or grandfather- I say father since wally is a grown ass man, but other says grandpa cause home is so old looking lmAO, so he gets to be both).

I didn't want his relationship with wally to be anything NEAR negative, but rather a huge comfort and support Wally has with a guardian (yeah adults can live with their parents it ain't that weird). One of my biggest drives for it was cause Wally is heavily neurodivergent coded, and the last thing I wanted was to have a large scary figure in Wally's life terrify and heavily dictate Wally's choices to a point Wally is completely suffocated and extremely uncomfortable. Not only that but lock Wally inside refusing him to do what he wants and getting upset over the smallest things? Complete nightmare! Specially someone who's neurodivergent! Sure I like the suspense and drama in a alternative universe, but in the main one I'd rather not. At least for me anyway (as a neurodivergent whos gone through similar things).

#Liddol ramble #Home is one of my favorite characters in the whole series and I wanna do him justice

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bonitanightmxres · 11 months

Text

Birthday Cake(s) || JOEL MILLER

PAIRING: Joel Miller x wife!reader (non-outbreak au)

SYNOPSIS: It’s joel’s birthday, and you have a few surprises in store for him.

WARNINGS: fluff, slight suggestiveness (aka joel wanting to get laid), mentions of pregnancy

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

A/N: Can be read as a “continuation” of “Pinky Promise”, or read on its own!

“I have to say, Tommy, you did a pretty good job with the decorating.” You take a step back, taking in all the banners and balloons and streamers that are hung around the house. It hadn’t been easy, doing all the planning for Joel’s birthday behind his back, but somehow you and Tommy managed to get it all done.

“I know right,” Tommy laughs as he reaches into the fridge for a drink. A large white box takes up most of the room inside, undoubtedly the cake; but he’s confused when he sees a smaller one sitting next to it. “Hey, what’s in this small box?” Tommy reaches for it, letting curiosity get the best of him.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!” The sudden boom of your voice makes him jump, and Tommy lowers his hand. “I-it’s just a cake. A personal one.”

Tommy crosses his arms, raising a brow, trying to decide if he believes you. “You mean to tell me you got my brother two cakes, and he gets to have one all to himself? I love him, but he ain’t that special.”

“One day a woman will buy you two cakes for your birthday too, Tommy. You just need to learn how to keep her first,” You shoo him away from the fridge, guarding it with such protection, as if it were the last thing you’d ever do.

“Ouch,” he laughs. “Anyways, what’d you get Joel? Is there a way I can sign it and say it's from me too?”

The mental picture of the small little box wrapped neatly in your bedroom takes over your mind. As small as the gift was, you were sure it’d have an even bigger impact on Joel once he opened it. “Sorry, Tommy, not this year. It’s not exactly something you can say we both got him.”

“What the hell is it then?”

“You’ll see.” Excitement pumped through your veins, making you giddy and nervous at the same time.

It was still early in the afternoon, and there were many hours to go before Joel would be on his way home, which made it that much harder to sit around with his gift practically teasing you, begging to be opened. And when Joel did finally pull into the driveway that evening, your excitement and nerves only increased.

You and Tommy shut off every light source in the house, nearly tripping and stubbing your toes multiple times as you did so. Hiding behind the dining table, you could hear the jangle of Joel’s keys as he unlocked the door, making you squeal from the anticipation.

“Seems like you’re more excited for his birthday this year than usual,” Tommy whispers, “What’re you planning?”

You don’t get to answer before Joel is stepping inside the house, turning on the light as he walks in.

“SURPRISE!” You leap up, throwing your hands in the air.

Joel is mesmerized by the shiny decorations, but he’s even more mesmerized by you. Seeing your bright smile and the happiness in your eyes makes him grin widely. He hurries over to you, wrapping one of his big arms around your waist, and pulling you in for a soft and sweet kiss. Your lips are soft against his, and he can taste the cherry lip balm.

“Happy birthday, love.” You say after pulling your lips away from Joel’s, much to his dismay.

His hands wander up and down your sides, playing with the hem of your dress. “My favorite color… Did you wear it just for me?”

Giggling, you playfully smack his hands, and turn to the stove, “C’mon, let’s eat. I made your favorite.”

“Not possible, my favorite meal’s standing in front of me.” He smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Joel!” Your cheeks flush red, turning your attention to where Tommy had been the whole time.

Once Joel realized that it wasn’t just you and him home, his face turned red too. “Sorry, brother. I’ll keep it PG for you.”

Tommy chuckled, and was finally able to wish Joel a happy birthday, now that his attention hadn’t been completely on you.

You could barely eat anything at dinner, too overwhelmed by eagerness for Joel to open his gift. The brothers had barely finished their meal before you’re clearing the table, tossing dishes in the sink, and lighting the candles on the large cake. Together with Tommy, you sing him “happy birthday”, as you carefully bring the cake over and set it down in front of him. The dancing flames light up Joel’s face softly and beautifully, and the genuine happiness on his face makes you fall in love with him a little bit more.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of candles.” Joel says with a light chuckle. He pulls you to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he watches the wax drip onto the frosting. “Pretty soon they all won’t fit.”

Tommy snorts as he stands across from you two, “Yeah, that’s why she got two cakes.”

You shoot him a death glare with a look that says shut up, and Tommy immediately regrets having opened his mouth.

“Two?” Joel questions. “What for?”

“Nevermind that, just focus on this one.” You scoot it a little closer to him, encouraging him to blow out the candles, and he does.

Joel cuts the cake, serving slices for the three of you while you still sit with him. At some point, you feed him cake playfully, and wipe frosting on his nose. Joel kisses your cheek, transferring frosting onto your face, and whispers, “So… what do ya say we send Tommy home early and you can give me my birthday present?”

The birthday present.

“Shit!” You practically jump off from Joel’s lap, and retrieve the mini cake and gift. As excited and restless as you had been during the day, the thought of the present had completely slipped your mind as you ate dinner and sang to Joel.

With the smaller cake in front of him, Joel was… confused, to say the least. “‘Happy birthday, Daddy.’” He read the letters of icing out loud, blushing a bit. As soon as the words left his mouth, your heart pounded even harder in your chest, waiting for his reaction.

Tommy seemed to have gotten the hint first, because he let out a gasp louder than you’ve ever heard, “Wait a minute, are you–”

You send him another death glare, and by now, you’ve given him enough of those that he knows to shut up.

“Darlin’, you sure we shouldn’t send Tommy home early?” Joel asks, chuckling as he rubs the back of his neck.

With a confused look on your face, you wonder why you’d need to send Tommy home over a cake. Happy birthday, Daddy. That’s all it said… Wait a minute…

Daddy.

Oh.

A pink tint brushed over your cheeks when you realized. “Joel, get your mind together and just open the gift already.”

You know he tears the gift open painstakingly slow on purpose to mess with you, but it doesn’t stop the urge to rip the gift away from his hands and open it for him, shoving the thing in his face; but, as you never lack common sense, you wait patiently… even though you’re visibly annoyed and Joel can tell–which only makes him open it slower.

“Joel, if you keep it up, Tommy’s spending the night and you won’t get what you want, and you know what I mean.” You threaten.

It turns out, you should’ve just threatened him a long time ago, because you’d never seen gift wrap fly off a box faster than you did at that moment.

Joel freezes in place as his eyes are glued to the thing in the box, and suddenly he’s forgotten English. His expression intrigues Tommy, who rushes over to his brother, looking over his shoulder. You’re amused as Tommy’s eyes go wide too, jaw practically dropping to the floor. “I knew it! You are! I’m gonna be a– You’re–”

“Pregnant?” Joel picks up the positive test, holding it in his hand to make sure it’s real. He looks over at you with a softness in his eyes and adoration, and a smile creeps onto his lips. “For real?”

Nodding your head eagerly, your hand travels over your stomach. “I took like a dozen tests, you’re holding number thirteen.”

“I’m gonna be an uncle, oh my god,” Tommy whoops and hollers in the kitchen, grabbing his cell phone and walking to the porch with a grin on his face. “Just wait ‘til I tell the guys at work that I’m gonna be an uncle.”

Dropping the test back into its box, he rushes over to you. Joel grabs your face with his hands, kissing you playfully all over. “I can’t believe this. You’re amazing.” He drops to his knees, kissing your stomach through your dress. “Hi, babygirl, thank you for making this the best birthday ever. Daddy loves you.”

You giggle as he continues kissing your stomach, tickling you with every kiss he lays. “How do you know the baby’s gonna be a girl?”

Joel gets up, caressing your face with a smile, “I just know.”

---

a/n: yet another late night fic... back at it again with domestic joel bc he owns my heart😭

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo

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